Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever: A Regency Historical Romance of a Lonely Viscount and a Love Promised in Childhood

Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever: A Regency Historical Romance of a Lonely Viscount and a Love Promised in Childhood

2 March 1810 . . . Today, I fell in love. At the age of ten, Miranda Cheever showed no signs of Great Beauty. And even at ten, Miranda learned to accept the expectations society held for her—until the afternoon when Nigel Bevelstoke, the handsome and dashing Viscount Turner, solemnly kissed her hand and promised her that one day she would grow into herself, that one day she would be as beautiful as she already was smart. And even at ten, Miranda knew she would love him forever. But the years that followed were as cruel to Turner as they were kind to Miranda. She is as intriguing as the viscount boldly predicted on that memorable day—while he is a lonely, bitter man, crushed by a devastating loss. But Miranda has never forgotten the truth she set down on paper all those years earlier—and she will not allow the love that is her destiny to slip lightly through her fingers . . . 2 March 1810 . . . Today, I fell in love. At the age of ten, Miranda Cheever showed no signs of Great Beauty. And even at ten, Miranda learned to accept the expectations society held for her—until the afternoon when Nigel Bevelstoke, the handsome and dashing Viscount Turner, solemnly kissed her hand and promised her that one day she would grow into herself, that one day she would be as beautiful as she already was smart. And even at ten, Miranda knew she would love him forever. But the years that followed were as cruel to Turner as they were kind to Miranda. She is as intriguing as the viscount boldly predicted on that memorable day—while he is a lonely, bitter man, crushed by a devastating loss. But Miranda has never forgotten the truth she set down on paper all those years earlier—and she will not allow the love that is her destiny to slip lightly through her fingers . . . #1 New York Times bestselling author Julia Quinn began writing one month after graduating from college and, aside from a brief stint in medical school, she has been tapping away at her keyboard ever since. Her novels have been translated into 43 languages and are beloved the world over. A graduate of Harvard and Radcliffe Colleges, she lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest.  Look for BRIDGERTON, based on her popular series of novels about the Bridgerton family, on Netflix. Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever LP By Julia Quinn HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright © 2007 Julia Quinn All right reserved. ISBN: 9780061340925 Chapter One Nigel Bevelstoke, better known as Turner to all who cared to court his favor, knew a great many things. He knew how to read Latin and Greek, and he knew how to seduce a woman in French and Italian. He knew how to shoot a moving target while atop a moving horse, and he knew exactly how much he could drink before surrendering his dignity. He could throw a punch or fence with a master, and he could do them both while reciting Shakespeare or Donne. In short, he knew everything a gentleman ought to know, and, by all accounts, he'd excelled in every area. People looked at him. People looked up to him. But nothing—not one second of his prominent and privileged life—had prepared him for this moment. And never had he felt the weight of watchful eyes so much as now, as he stepped forward and tossed a clump of dirt on the coffin of his wife. I'm so sorry, people kept saying. I'm so sorry. We're so sorry. And all the while, Turner could not help but wonder if God might smite him down, because all he could think was— I'm not. Ah, Leticia. He had quite a lot to thank her for. Let's see, where to start? There was the loss of his reputation, of course. The devil only knew how many people were aware that he'd been cuckolded. Repeatedly. Then there was the loss of his innocence. It was difficult to recall now, but he had once given mankind the benefit of the doubt. He had, on the whole, believed the best of people—that if he treated others with honor and respect, they would do the same unto him. And then there was the loss of his soul. Because as he stepped back, clasping his hands stiffly behind him as he listened to the priest commit Leticia's body to the ground, he could not escape the fact that he had wished for this. He had wanted to be rid of her. And he would not—he did not mourn her. "Such a pity," someone behind him whispered. Turner's jaw twitched. This was not a pity. It was a farce. And now he would spend the next year wearing black for a woman who had come to him carrying another man's child. She had bewitched him, teased him until he could think of nothing but the possession of her. She had said she loved him, and she had smiled with sweet innocence and delight when he had avowed his devotion and pledged his soul. She had been his dream. And then she had been his nightmare. She'd lost that baby, the one that had prompted their marriage. The father had been some Italian count, or at least that's what she'd said. He was married, or unsuitable, or maybe both. Turner had been prepared to forgive her;