Free Sally James by Miranda of the Island Page A

fascinating topic of conversation in the clubs and at dinner parties that night. Cynical roués pronounced the word ward sneeringly, but even they were given pause when it was revealed that the charmer was residing with Lady Beverley, for there had never been a breath of scandal attached to her name, and she would countenance no illicit liaison.
    Optimistic mothers and ambitious daughters dwelt fearfully on the lyrical descriptions of her beauty, and many wondered whether the elusive Sir Denzil was at last caught. Some concluded dolefully that she must be a considerable heiress, though it was conceded Sir Denzil was wealthy enough not to need to marry a fortune.
    The first Judith and Miranda knew of the speculation was when a morning caller was announced.
    “Mrs Floode, my lady,” Parsons announced woodenly, and Miranda looked up from the magazine she was perusing to see a tall, commanding woman sweep into the room.
    “Why, Ma’am, how very pleasant to see you,” Judith exclaimed mendaciously. She had known this meeting was bound to come, and had been looking forward to it with considerable misgiving.
    “Lady Beverley, how excessively kind you are, as always,” Mrs Floode gushed, and then turned expectantly towards Miranda, surveying her with keen, hard eyes.
    “Miss Miranda de Lisle,” Judith presented the two ladies, and they greeted one another.
    Mrs Floode sank down into a fragile chair, disposed her reticule and shawl about her, and then addressed some general remarks to her hostess, while Judith recovered her forces. Then the visitor turned to Miranda.
    “Are you making a prolonged visit to town, my dear?”
    “I do not know, I have no idea,” Miranda told her, and the forbidding eyes of her interlocutor shot up.
    “Miss de Lisle is my brother’s ward,” Judith interposed, “and I am taking her in charge for her coming-out. We have no plans other than to remain in London until Christmas.”
    “Indeed? I had no notion Denzil had a ward.”
    “Did you not? I do not believe many people did,” Judith said coolly, and went on to enquire about a mutual acquaintance. But Mrs Floode was not to be deterred by Judith’s obvious unwillingness to vouchsafe further information. She disposed of the acquaintance speedily, and returned to Miranda.
    “Do you belong to the Gloucestershire de Lisles?” she queried.
    “I have never heard of them,” Miranda responded truthfully.
    “No, for I must suppose that if you were connections of theirs Denzil could not be your guardian. I thought I knew all your connections, Lady Beverley. But I believe there is another family, far more obscure, in Yorkshire. Perhaps you are related to them?”
    “No.” Miranda smiled sweetly, and Mrs Floode’s fears grew. They had not exaggerated about this girl!
    “Miranda has not been to London before, and I am looking forward immensely to showing her all the sights,” Judith volunteered.
    “Where have you been living then?” A direct question that could not be ignored.
    “In Cornwall.”
    “Then your estates are near to Denzil’s?”
    “I have no estates,” Miranda replied quietly, and Mrs Floode’s fears lessened slightly. She was not, then, the great heiress some had surmised. Less of a threat to Araminta, who had a substantial portion.
    “Cornwall is reputed to be a wild place, but I have never been there. It is an omission I mean to repair in the near future, as you may guess, Lady Beverley!”
    “We love it, despite the wildness, Mrs Floode,” Judith replied, growing a trifle curt at this innuendo.
    “People lost on the moors, and wrecked on the dangerous coast,” Mrs Floode mused.
    “It is only dangerous to those who omit sensible precautions.”
    Mrs Floode laughed indulgently. “We have all heard of the Cornish wreckers. But does not Denzil sail? I understood he went down to his estates every year at this time partly to indulge in that pastime?”
    Miranda shivered slightly, and Mrs Floode’s sharp eyes were