At the age of ten, Miss Miranda Cheever showed no signs of ever becoming a Great Beauty. Her hair was lamentably brown, her eyes the same muddy colour, and her legs, which were uncommonly long, lacked anything which might remotely be called grace. So, even at ten, Miranda learned to accept the expectations society held for her - until the afternoon when 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. Even at ten, Miranda knew she would love him forever.
Now, eight years later, Miranda is a woman grown, and Turner an embittered widower. But she has never forgotten his kindness. Indeed, in her diary she confides the truth: she has never stopped loving Turner, and she has never stopped hoping that one day he will see her as more than a naive girl . . .