Authors: Kristi Ann Hunter
A Lady of Esteem (17 page)
Her nerves had settled and bed didn’t seem such a daunting place anymore. If part of her suspected it had more to do with the tea and conversation than her heartfelt letter, she refused to admit it.
He set the tea service on the worktable with utmost care. What he really wanted to do was hurl the thing into the fireplace. That would wake the housekeeper though. He didn’t doubt his abilities to calm any ruffled feathers waking her would cause, but he preferred no one found out he’d taken tea with the lady of the house.
Servants frowned on uppity airs such as that.
Marlow.
He was Marlow. He must remember to be no one but Marlow.
He dumped the tea leaves from the pot and plunged the dish into the wash bucket. Why had he told her about his family? Not all of it, granted. The cousins in Derbyshire were a bit removed and mostly on his mother’s side. The aunt and cousin residing in London were much closer relations, but he never mentioned them.
Most of the time he tried to forget they were there.
Life would have been simpler if they weren’t. If not for his cousin, he’d have never gone to France, never been caught up in the mystique of espionage, and never found himself shining boots at a duke’s country estate.
Which meant he would never have taken midnight tea with Lady Miranda . . . and that would have been a shame.
He smiled as he left everything in the kitchen the way he had found it. No one would suspect a middle-of-the night forage.
Thoughts raced through his mind as he returned to the library. He went over every moment of the exchange, examining angles and
motivations. Why would she invite him to drink with her? He’d brought a second cup, intending to finish the pot after she had retired. He never expected she’d invite him to sit with her.
The small writing desk caught his eye as he entered the room. She had left it hastily when he returned with the tea. Was she hiding something?
Dread pooled in his stomach. By necessity, everyone in the house was a suspect until proven otherwise, but he had never truly thought Griffith or his family were behind the leaked secrets.
What if he was wrong?
Thoughts of Miranda’s charming and generous nature fell to the wayside. With absolute calm he sorted through the papers on the desk. Letters to family and other social equals were of little interest to him. There was nothing out of the ordinary there, and the post had been the first thing the War Office had searched.
His eyebrows rose at the blue paper at the bottom of the stack. It was folded crookedly, unlike the precise lines of the other letters, and it bore no direction.
He flipped it open and couldn’t believe his eyes. She was writing to the Duke of Marshington? Breath whooshed from his lungs as he read the letter. She wasn’t just writing to the duke, she was pouring her heart out to him. It indicated an intimate relationship.
He sat on the couch and stared at the dancing flames of fire. This changed everything.
We hope you’ve enjoyed this special sample of
A Noble Masquerade
by Kristi Ann Hunter. For more information on this book, please visit
www.bethanyhouse.com
or your favorite bookstore.
Ah, the acknowledgments section. Possibly the most overlooked portion of any book. Though my name is on the cover and my soul is poured across these pages, it was by no means a solo endeavor. This is a tribute to the people who made it happen, the village to my occasional idiot, the archipelago to my writer’s island.
Thank you, God, for the saving gift of Jesus Christ, without whom I would be lost, Amelia would have been alone, and Anthony wouldn’t have been redeemed. I also appreciate the months of pregnancy-induced insomnia that allowed me the time to write the first draft of this story. My apologies for all the grumbling and crying about it at the time.
To Jacob, the Hubs, the man who has encouraged and supported me every step of the way, thank you. Thank you for telling me to do something with the story when I finished it. Thank you for pushing me into going to that first writing conference. Thank you for standing with me as I cried in the laundry room and telling me I wasn’t allowed to quit. Thank you for being okay with ordering pizza one more night because the words were flowing too well and I didn’t want to stop for something as piddling as a trip to the grocery store.
I would also like to thank the pizza delivery man for not commenting on it being your third trip to my house in less than a month.
A shout-out to my kids for willingly eating said pizza without telling their grandparents. Also, thank you for never really understanding what Mommy meant when she asked you to leave her alone and let her write. The reminder that family is important and there is a life to live while my books are being written is invaluable. This gratefulness is going to be known to diminish, however, the closer I get to deadline. Please check the calendar accordingly.
For Amanda, who was the first person aside from Jacob that I allowed to see my work, a huge thank-you. Not only for your honest opinions and encouragement, but also for allowing me to read your collection of inspirational fiction in college. They inspired something in me even
as I had to hold them in such a way that I didn’t break the binding. I hope you still have the prettiest bookshelf in five counties. I can’t wait to be on it.
Everyone should thank Gayle for having the courage to tell me my first version of Anthony was a wuss. After a backbone implant, he’s doing just fine.
I have to thank my dad for indirectly providing the inspiration for this story. I’m not going to tell him how. I’m holding that information hostage until he tells us what he wants for Christmas.
To Alana, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been so much more than a sister-in-law—you’ve been a friend. Thank you for your time and insight. And for being willing to read my work when my own brother said he’s waiting for the movie.
Thank you, Patty Smith Hall, for taking me under your wing. There were days when I wanted to quit, but your encouragement kept me going. Thank you for my magical little bottle of Seekerville sand. Seeing it every morning is very inspiring.
For the rest of my writer family, my Regency Reflections sisters, the group at ACFW North Georgia, and the ever-supportive Georgia Romance Writers, this could not have happened without you. I look forward to giving to others as you have given to me. To the authors whose works have inspired me, my appreciation is limitless—even though you, too, have been a cause for more than one sleepless night.
I want to thank my editors and the rest of the team at Bethany House. The story of Anthony and Amelia has been through so much, and I was almost ready to stick them in a drawer. Thank you so much to Raela and Karen, who labored with me to hone the story into what it is today.
And lastly, I want to thank you, whoever you are, for reading not just the story, but the acknowledgments as well. I especially want to thank those who read it for something other than finding their own name. There are so many people I didn’t thank that have been there for me every step of the way. But like an Oscar speech, someone
always gets left out. I hope I have thanked you in person, and with any luck I’ll remember you next time.
Kristi Ann Hunter
graduated from Georgia Tech with a degree in Computer Science but always knew she wanted to write. Kristi is an RWA Golden Heart contest winner, an ACFW Genesis contest winner, and a Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award for Excellence winner. She is a founding member and the coordinator of the Regency Reflections blog and lives with her husband and three children in Georgia. Find her online at
www.kristiannhunter.com
.
