The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever

'Well, hurry up,' Olivia said. 'Get dressed, and I'll have my maid do the finishing touches. She's positively magical with hair.'

Miranda wondered when Olivia would notice that she had not moved a muscle.

'Get up, Miranda.'

Miranda nearly jumped a foot. 'Good heavens, Olivia. Has no one told you it's rude to bellow in another human being's ear?'

Olivia's face loomed over hers, a little too close. 'You don't look quite human this morning, to tell the truth.'

Miranda rolled over. 'I don't feel human.'

'You'll feel better after breakfast.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'But you can't miss breakfast.'

Miranda clenched her teeth. Such chirpiness ought to be illegal before noon.

'Miranda.'

Miranda shoved a pillow over her head. 'If you say my name one more time, I will have to kill you.'

'But we have work to do.'

Miranda paused. What the devil was Livvy talking about? 'Work?' she echoed.

'Yes, work.' Olivia wrenched the pillow away and tossed it on the floor. 'I've had the most wonderful idea. It came to me in a dream.'

'You're joking.'

'Very well, I'm joking, but it did come to me this morning as I was lying in bed.' Olivia smiled- a rather feline sort of smile, actually, the sort that meant she'd either had a flash of brilliance or was going to destroy the world as they knew it. And then she waited- it was about the only time she ever waited- and so Miranda rewarded her with 'Very well, what is it?'

'You.'

'Me.'

'And Winston.'

For a moment, Miranda couldn't speak. Then- 'You're mad.'

Olivia shrugged and sat back. 'Or very, very clever. Think of it, Miranda. It's perfect.'

Miranda couldn't imagine thinking of anything involving gentlemen just at the moment, much less one with the Bevelstoke surname, even if it wasn't Turner.

'You know him well, and you're of an age,' Olivia said, ticking the items off on her fingers.

Miranda shook her head and escaped off the other side of the bed.

But Olivia was nimble, and she was by her side within seconds. 'You don't really want a season,' she continued. 'You've said so on numerous occasions. And you hate making conversation with people you don't know.'

Miranda attempted to dodge her by scooting to the wardrobe.

'Since you know Winston- as I have already pointed out- that eliminates the need to make conversation with strangers, and besides'- Olivia's smiling face came into view- 'it means we shall be sisters.'

Miranda went still, her fingers clutching the day dress she'd taken from the wardrobe. 'That would be lovely, Olivia,' she said, because really, what else could she say?

'Oh, I'm thrilled you agree!' Olivia exclaimed, and she threw her arms around her. 'It shall be wonderful. Splendid. Beyond splendid. It shall be perfection.'

Miranda stood still, wondering how on earth she had just managed to get herself into such a tangle.

Olivia pulled back, still beaming. 'Winston will have no idea what has hit him.'

'Is the purpose of this to make a match or simply to somehow best your brother?'

'Well, both, of course,' Olivia freely admitted. She released Miranda and plopped herself down in a nearby chair. 'Does it matter?'

Miranda opened her mouth, but Olivia was quicker. 'Of course not,' she said. 'All that matters is the commonality of the goal, Miranda. Truly, I'm surprised we have not given this serious thought before.'

As her back was to Olivia, Miranda allowed herself a wince. Of course she had not given it serious thought. She had been too busy dreaming of Turner.

'And I saw Winston looking at you last night.'

'There were only five people in the room, Olivia. He couldn't very well not look at me.'

'It was all in the how,' Olivia persisted. 'It was as if he'd never seen you before.'

Miranda started pulling on her clothes. 'I'm quite certain you're mistaken.'

'I'm not. Here, turn around, I'll do your buttons. I'm never wrong about things like these.'

Miranda stood patiently as Olivia did up her frock. And then it occurred to her-

'When have you had the opportunity to be right? We're buried in the country. It's not as if we're witness to anyone falling in love.'

'Of course we are. There was Billy Evans and- '

'They had to get married, Olivia. You know that.'

Olivia finished the last button, moved her hands to Miranda's shoulders, and twisted her until they were facing. Her expression was arch, even for Olivia. 'Yes, but why did they have to get married? Because they were in love.'

'I don't recall your predicting the match.'

'Nonsense. Of course I did. You were in Scotland. And I couldn't tell you in a letter- it makes it all seem so utterly sordid to put it into writing.'

Miranda wasn't sure why that should be the case- an unplanned pregnancy was an unplanned pregnancy was an unplanned pregnancy. Putting it down in writing wasn't going to change anything. But regardless, Olivia did have a point. Miranda went to Scotland for six weeks every year to visit her maternal grandparents, and Billy Evans did get married while she was gone. Trust Olivia to come up with the one argument she couldn't refute.

'Shall we go to breakfast?' Miranda asked wearily. There was no way she was going to get out of making an appearance, and besides, Turner had been somewhat disguised the night before. If there was any justice in the world, he'd be plastered to his bed with a throbbing head all morning.

'Not until Maria does your hair,' Olivia decided. 'We must not leave anything to chance. It is your job to be beautiful now. Oh, don't stare at me like that. You're far prettier than you think you are.'

'Olivia.'

'No, no, bad choice of words. You're not pretty. I'm pretty. Pretty and dull. You have something more.'

'A long face.'

'Not really. Not as much as when you were small, at least.' Olivia tilted her head to the side. And said nothing.

Nothing. Olivia.

'What is it?' Miranda asked suspiciously.

'I think you've grown into yourself.'

It was what Turner had said, all those years ago. Someday you're going to grow into yourself, and you will be as beautiful as you already are smart. Miranda hated that she remembered it. And she really hated that it made her want to cry.

Olivia, seeing the emotion in her eyes, misted up as well. 'Oh, Miranda,' she said, embracing her tightly. 'I love you, too. We shall be the best of sisters. I cannot wait.'

* * *

By the time Miranda arrived at breakfast (a full thirty minutes later; she vowed she had never spent so long