Free Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever by Julia Quinn Page B

positions, both gazing idly out at the crowd.
    He feigned affront. “Blackmail? What an ugly word. And incorrect in this instance.”
    â€œOh?”
    He leaned toward her ever so slightly. “It was guilt.”
    â€œGuilt?” Her lips twitched, and she turned to him with mischievous eyes. “What did you do?”
    â€œIt’s what I didn’t do. Or rather, what I wasn’t doing.” He gave a careless shrug. “I’m told that you and Olivia will be successes if I offer my support.”
    â€œI expect Olivia would be a success if she were penniless and born on the wrong side of the blanket.”
    â€œI have no worries for you, either,” Turner said, smiling down at her in a somewhat annoyingly benevolent manner. Then he scowled. “And what would my mother blackmail me with, pray tell?”
    Miranda smiled to herself. She liked it when he was disconcerted. He always seemed so in control of himself to her, whereas her heart always managed to thump in triplicate whenever she saw him. Luckily the years had made her comfortable with him. If she hadn’t known him for so long, she doubted she would be able to manage a conversation in his presence. Besides, he would surely suspectsomething if she were tongue-tied each time they met.
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” she pretended to ponder. “Stories of when you were small and such.”
    â€œHush your mouth. I was a perfect angel.”
    She raised her brows dubiously. “You must think I’m very gullible.”
    â€œNo, just too polite to contradict me.”
    Miranda rolled her eyes and turned back to the crowd. Olivia was holding court across the room, surrounded by her usual bevy of gentlemen.
    â€œLivvy’s a natural at this, isn’t she?” she said.
    Turner nodded his assent. “Where are all of your admirers, Miss Cheever? I find it difficult to believe you haven’t any.”
    She blushed at his compliment. “One or two, I suppose. I tend to blend into the woodwork when Olivia is near.”
    He shot her a disbelieving look. “Let me see your dance card.”
    Reluctantly, she handed it over to him. He gave it a quick examination, then returned it. “I was right,” he said. “It is very nearly filled.”
    â€œMost of them found their way to me only because I was standing next to Olivia.”
    â€œDon’t be silly. And it’s nothing to get upset about.”
    â€œOh, but I’m not,” she replied, surprised that he should think so. “Why? Do I look upset?”
    He drew back and surveyed her. “No. No, you don’t. How odd.”
    â€œOdd?”
    â€œI have never known a lady who did not wish for a gaggle of eligible young men surrounding her at a ball.”
    Miranda bristled at the condescension in his voice and was not quite able to keep the insolence out of hers , as she said, “Well, now you do.”
    But he just chuckled. “And how, dear girl, are you going to find a husband with that attitude? Oh, don’t look at me as if I am being patronizing—”
    Which only made her teeth grind harder.
    â€œâ€”you yourself told me that you wish to find a husband this season.”
    He was right, drat the man. Which left her with no option other than to say, “Don’t call me ‘dear girl,’ if you please.”
    He grinned. “Why, Miss Cheever, do I detect a bit of temper in you?”
    â€œI’ve always had a temper,” she bit off.
    â€œApparently so.” He was still smiling as he said it, which was all the more irritating.
    â€œI thought you were meant to be moody and brooding,” she grumbled.
    He gave her a lopsided shrug. “You seem to bring out the best in me.”
    Miranda gave him a pointed look. Had he forgotten the night of Leticia’s funeral? “The best?” she nearly drawled. “Really?”
    He had the grace to look sheepish, at least.