Carola Dunn Read Online Free Page A

plenty of paper and pens and ink.”
    “I shall go by the stationer’s this morning on my way to do the marketing.” Miranda was determined to make sure he had no excuse not to keep his nose to the grindstone. “How much paper do you suppose you will require, Mr. Daviot?”
    “Oh, a ream I suppose will do the trick. Or do I mean a quire?”
    “I have not the least notion.”
    “Perhaps I had best go with you. I’ll be glad to carry your basket.”
    “Thank you, sir, but that is not necessary.” She was not going to succumb to his blandishments. “I take one of the footmen, and in any case all the tradesmen deliver to the house.”
    Lady Wiston’s mind had moved on to the marketing. “Miranda, if the greengrocer has good red and black currants, pray order plenty. Cook shall bake tarts for my at-home this afternoon and put up the rest for the winter.”
    “You expect callers this afternoon, Aunt?” Mr. Daviot enquired. “As I recall, London is generally rather thin of company at this season.”
    “The Ton may go off to their country houses, but they are a very small proportion of the population. London still abounds in interesting people. Only last week, when we visited St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, we met a Lascar seaman, a charming gentleman.”
    “A Lascar seaman a gentleman!”
    “I find,” said Lady Wiston with some severity, “that if one treats common men and women as ladies and gentlemen, they almost invariably strive to live up to one’s expectations. I gave Sagaranu my card. I hope he will come today. The name was Sagaranu, was it not, Miranda?”
    “Something of the sort, Lady Wiston. I wrote it down in my notebook. I shall check before he arrives.”
    “What an excellent secretary you are, my dear.”
    Miranda smiled at her affectionately. “If I am to be a good marketer also, I must be on my way, or all the best currants will be sold.” She finished off her cup of tea and folded her napkin.
    “Don’t forget to go by the bookseller’s and tell them we did not receive the latest Examiner . I shall be sadly disappointed if the Hunts close down the paper and cease to bedevil the government now they are out of prison at last.”
    “Yes, indeed! What should we discuss over our Sunday breakfast?”
    Miranda went upstairs to put on her bonnet and shawl. When she came downstairs a few minutes later, she was surprised to find Mr. Daviot waiting for her in the hall, gloves and well-brushed top-hat in hand.
    “I told Ethan I shall accompany you in his place, Miss Carmichael,” he said.
    “I am quite capable of ordering paper and pens for you, sir.”
    “Of that I have no doubt. You strike me as a singularly capable female. That is why I wish to consult you.”
    “Oh?” said Miranda coldly, sure he thought to win her over by flattery and enlist her aid in fleecing Lady Wiston. Only a fear of being overheard in the house could explain his choosing to consult her in the street.
    He said no more until they were outside. The square was quiet, devoid of its usual bustling traffic. Most of the houses were shut up, only caretakers in residence, the knockers removed from front doors for the summer. Miranda and her unwanted escort turned south towards Oxford Street.
    “I am a little concerned about Aunt Artemis,” said Mr. Daviot, a supportive hand beneath her elbow as they crossed the cobbled street. “As you know, I have been absent for several years. I don’t recall her being so freakish when I left.”
    “Freakish! Lady Wiston is an original, perhaps even a trifle eccentric, but I would not call her freakish.”
    “What, when she reads seditious newspapers, invites ramshackle sailors to her at-home, visits hospitals—”
    “And orphanages,” said Miranda, not without relish, “and prisons.”
    “Prisons!”
    “We were at Newgate recently with Mrs. Elizabeth Fry, the prison reformer—we met her a fortnight ago, when we attended a Quaker meeting.”
    “Aunt Artemis doesn’t go to