Free A Kiss from the Heart by Barbara Cartland

seven-year-old Miranda Whitby flashed into his mind.
    â€˜Where is she now?’ he wondered. ‘And is she still as pretty as she was then?’
    He recalled her long blonde hair with its flowing waves and her serious grey eyes fringed with dark-brown lashes.
    Her tilted nose was just like a china doll and her mouth, a perfect rosebud, added to the overall effect.
    He smiled to himself as he strode over the cobbled courtyard to the stables. One of the stable boys was now coming towards him leading a large black stallion that appeared to be in a somewhat skittish mood.
    â€œHe’s not ’imself today, my Lord. Don’t take any trouble off ’im!” said the boy, as he held Monty’s bridle while the Earl mounted.
    â€œDon’t worry, I shall make certain he knows I am the Master!” called the Earl, kicking the horse’s side with his tall leather boots.
    Within moments Monty was cantering along the lane, shaking his head and snorting a great deal. The Earl reined him in tight and spurred him on as they reached the open fields.
    The Grange was only a short ride away so the Earl soon found himself dismounting by the main entrance.
    He smiled to himself fondly as he noticed that the old cattle trough was still there.
    â€œFancy some water, old boy?” he murmured, as he tethered Monty to a post.
    He stood looking up at the house before he moved towards it. Its windows and brickwork were so familiar and comforting.
    Yet the house seemed somehow smaller since the last time he had seen it – and that was, when? Five years ago? Six?
    He moved with a sigh towards the front door and then before his hand could ring the bell a soft melodious voice came from behind him.
    â€œCan I help you?”
    He spun round to gaze into a pair of pale-grey eyes the colour of a pigeon’s wing. The rosebud mouth was relaxed and he noticed that the young woman wore her hair in the latest style. Unusual, he thought, for this part of the country.
    Her skin was fresh yet not sullied by the sun’s rays and she was quite the most utterly beautiful young thing he had seen for a long time. There was something about her poise that was elegant yet countrified at the same time.
    Slowly a look of recognition crossed her face.
    â€œRobert? Is it you? Can it really be – ?”
    â€œMiranda!”
    Within seconds he had scooped her up in a friendly embrace whirling her around on the spot.
    â€œI hardly recognise you. You are all grown up!” he cried.
    â€œAnd you, so tall and handsome!” she responded. “The Army has been good for you, I can see.”
    She let her hand rest for just a moment on the firm bicep that swelled underneath his close-fitting riding habit and then took it away.
    â€œPapa will be so thrilled that you have come to see us!” she said, knocking sharply on the door. “And Mama is back from Bath only yesterday! She will be delighted you have paid us a visit.”
    The Whitby butler opened the door and was taken aback by the gale of laughter that greeted him.
    â€œMervin, look who has come to pay a call!” cried Miranda.
    Inside the long hall, Lady Whitby came hurrying towards them.
    â€œIs it? Can it be? Well, bless my soul! Young Lord Robert! Come inside.”
    â€œOh, Mama, he is no longer young Lord Robert! He is Lord Templeton now!” chided Miranda.
    Lady Whitby went off to find her husband and left Miranda and the Earl together in the drawing room. He looked around the room and was delighted that everything was how it had been on his last visit.
    â€œI am so sorry that I did not attend your father’s funeral,” said Miranda, settling him down in a comfortable chair. “Papa did not tell me as he did not wish to spoil my stay in London. I was very cross with him as I would have so liked to have paid my respects to him by attending.”
    â€œIt does not matter, but I am glad that you are here and not in London. I have