More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (5 page)

And at that moment the stranger stepped forward.

Chapter Three

And don’t you dare lie to me, Hastings. Our conversations may be formed through ink and paper, but I promise you I will know if you are fibbing, and you will regret it. Did you, or did you not send the blasted book?

—From Evie to Hastings, upon the arrival of an anonymously sent copy of
Mrs. Seeton’s Book of Etiquette: Rules, Direction, and Proper Behavior for the Fair Sex

O
ne second, Benedict’s brain had been frozen from the shock of discovering that the incredibly beautiful blond goddess before him was, in fact, Evie.
His
Evie. The Evie who was
supposed
to be in London, far away from the house he sought refuge in.

The next thing he knew, he was jerking into action, opening his mouth without a clue about what he would say, only suddenly very sure that Evie could
not
know he was Hastings. “Mr. James Benedict, at your service, my lady.”

The lie was like vinegar in his mouth, and he gritted his teeth with the effort to keep his expression neutral. God, what had he done? His gaze shot to Richard, who stood just to the right of his sister. At any other time, his face would have been comical. Not then. No, at that moment, Benedict could do nothing but pray his old friend wouldn’t call him out right then and there.

Blessedly oblivious to the silent battle between the men, Evie grinned. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Benedict. And thank you for speaking up; my brother does tend to like to hear himself speak.” She bumped Richard with her shoulder teasingly. Thank God she didn’t look to his face. With his mouth frozen open and his eyes akin to those of a startled owl, she would have known in an instant something was not right.

Benedict met Richard’s gaze straight on, willing him to go along with the ruse. The damned lie had just come out, as natural as taking a breath of air. Really, what the hell else could Benedict have done? Bits and pieces of that dreadful last letter came rushing back to him. If she knew who he was, she would probably eviscerate him—with words, if he were lucky, though he deserved worse.

Damn it all, he had too much to handle as it was; adding in an irate ghost from his past would make the situation unbearable.

Loosening the muscles of his jaw, he offered her his best impersonation of a lighthearted smile. “Yes, I was beginning to wonder if he’d simply forgotten who I was.”

Richard’s mouth snapped shut then, and he gave Benedict a considering look. “No,” he said slowly, “
I
for one, have not forgotten who you are,
Mister
Benedict.”

The emphasis was subtle, but unmistakable. Still, Benedict’s galloping pulse slowed a little. Richard would go along with him—for now, at least. Even as he tried to concentrate on the farce in front of him, Benedict’s mind raced to think of an explanation for when he and Richard were next alone. Whatever it was, it had to be damned good.

“Well, allow me to welcome you to Hertford Hall.” Evie gave a small flick of her wrist, encompassing the whole of the house and grounds past the stable door. Obediently, Benedict wrenched his gaze from her attractive form and surveyed the scenery as any normal guest would. It truly was impressive—even more so than his own family’s estate in Leicestershire. With the massive stone facade rising from the gently sloping hill, it had the effect of somehow presiding over the neatly manicured lawns and rolling forestland beyond. The stable block, which he knew to be the home of the family’s horse-breeding operation, paid homage to the house itself, with great arching windows and stately stone walls. There was no mistaking the pride the family took in the place.

“Thank you, my lady. It is a pleasure to finally see the place for myself.” He could have bitten his tongue.
Finally?

Her hand went to her trim waist, which was nicely emphasized by the cut of her light blue riding habit. “I hadn’t realized you’d been acquainted so very long. How is it that you and my brother know each other, Mr. Benedict?”

A very good question. Beside her, Richard crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, the first hint of amusement coloring his expression. With both siblings waiting expectantly, Benedict decided to go with the most obvious answer. “Eton, actually. We met in the early days.”

As a person who spent half his time living a lie, he knew it was best to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“When was it, exactly?” Richard asked, the very picture of innocence. “I can’t seem to remember.”

Oh yes. Clearly he was starting to enjoy himself.

Benedict opened his mouth to respond, but the distant thunder of an approaching horse gave him pause. Whoever it was, he had Benedict’s undying gratitude. He turned in time to see a lone rider on a very handsome red mount rapidly approaching. Though the man sported gray hair to Richard’s blond and a slightly stockier build, the resemblance was impossible to miss. “Richard, is that your father?”

“Indeed it is,” he responded, waving hugely at the older man. The marquis returned the gesture, and the siblings hurried forward to greet him.

Benedict hung back, glad for a second to try to gather his wits. Granville had no idea how indebted Benedict was to him for his timely—and inadvertent—rescue. He took a long, slow pull of air, trying to calm his overworked nerves.

After all these years—after all those letters—it was nothing short of shocking to see Evie in the flesh. To hear her smooth, clear voice and fleetingly feel her lithe body pressed against his.

Even toward the end, when she had invaded both his thoughts and his dreams as an ethereal, indistinct beauty, he could have never imagined how lovely she would be in person. All those emotions he had pushed into the far recesses of his mind almost a decade earlier now roared through his body, heating his blood. Her luminous, nearly crystalline blue eyes, her open yet somehow enticing smile—even her slightly tanned skin added to her allure. It was as though the forbidden fruit had been placed before him, perfect in all its untouchable glory.

Benedict swallowed, cursing his wretched luck.

Why the hell was she even here? Why wasn’t she in London, batting those long eyelashes at some dandy on the ballroom floor? He started forward, slowly approaching the chattering trio as Richard and his father embraced. Evie laughed beside them, the afternoon sun behind her turning her hair into a golden halo about her head.

A golden halo? Benedict raked a hand through his hair—he had to get a hold of himself.

Richard stepped back and beckoned. “Benedict, come meet my father.”

The implications of the statement hit Benedict anew. Of course Evie’s presence here would mean that the whole blasted family would be there. He forced a grin as he closed the distance between them. Great, now he would be lying to the lot of them. Though he had never met them, Benedict had always respected them. Richard and Evie had spoken of them often and with great fondness, and it was almost as if Benedict already knew them. They were exactly the sort of family he had dreamed of during the loneliest times of his childhood, when his own father had ignored him in favor of his hunting dogs and his mother had so thoroughly disliked him. And though his brother had once been a decent-enough companion when they were in leading strings, that all changed when he went away to school and was surrounded by those who pandered to the future earl.

After the introductions, the marquis beamed in welcome. “So good of you to join Richard for a visit, Mr. Benedict. I do hope you will feel at home.”

Granville was every bit as jovial and welcoming as Benedict had always pictured him to be. He was a good, respectable man who did not deserve to be deceived in his own home.

“Thank you, my lord. It’s so good of you to have me.”

Though he smiled and conversed easily with others, complimenting the grounds and admiring the marquis’s new mount, unease turned Benedict’s stomach. He hated concealing the truth from them, but what could he do? He had to figure out a way to leave as soon as possible. He had no clue where else he could go, but it wouldn’t be right to stay. As soon as he came up with a reasonable excuse to do so, he would leave.

Of their own volition, his eyes strayed to his beautiful former correspondent. He could fool the others, but not himself. Having finally laid eyes on her, the idea of turning around and leaving was nearly inconceivable.

Soon, he would be gone from their lives forever, but just not quite yet.

* * *

With the initial excitement of her brother’s arrival waning, Evie could not wait to get her brother alone and learn what had really brought them to the Hall. In answer to Papa’s inquiry, Richard had claimed they had grown bored of the city and wanted a change of scenery before the Season began in earnest.

It had been all she could do not to snort. Richard grow tired of the city? Not a chance. As they climbed the shallow limestone steps to the house, she waited impatiently for the opportunity to question him alone. She stole a quick glance at their guest and bit her bottom lip against the fresh flutter of butterflies within her stomach. She couldn’t wait to hear more about who the devil this Mr. Benedict was and why she had never heard of him before.

Honestly, it really wasn’t fair that such a man existed in England and she had not yet had the pleasure of laying eyes on him. She might not want to marry, but she certainly wasn’t dead.

The heavy oak door swung open on well-oiled hinges, and Finnington appeared, dipping his head to Papa. “Lord Raleigh’s chamber and a guest suite are nearly prepared, my lord.”

Evie offered the butler a discreet wink. One should never underestimate the efficiency of a well-trained staff. They had probably gone to work the moment the men reached the drive.

Papa rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. I imagine you gentlemen will want a moment to collect yourselves. Why don’t we meet for some refreshments in a half hour or so?” He turned to Richard and clasped him on the shoulder. “You should go surprise your mother before you head up to your bedchamber. She’s probably still in the drawing room. Finnington can show Mr. Benedict to his room while I go freshen up.”

Richard agreed, and Papa, Mr. Benedict, and Finnington headed up the curving staircase. Evie couldn’t have planned it better herself. As Richard turned toward the Rose Salon, Evie pounced, snagging him by the arm. She waited until the sound of the others’ footsteps receded before releasing him. “All right, out with it. What is going on?”

“Whatever do you mean?” The very picture of nonchalance, he grabbed a handful of nuts from a crystal bowl on the ornately carved side table and tossed a few in his mouth. “Nothing is ‘going on.’”

“Yes, and I’m the lead in the next production of
Othello.
”

“Really? Well, good for you, Bit. I always knew you had a flare for the dramatic.” He grinned cheekily, and she smiled despite herself.

“Don’t be an ass. You wouldn’t leave London so close to the Season without a reason.”

“As I told Father, I simply decided the country sounded like a bit of a reprieve from the city. It can get tiresome, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but
you
know no such thing. My whole life you’ve done nothing but wax poetic about the offerings of the city.” A reprieve from the city, indeed. He must think she was born yesterday. “Let me see. . . .”

She folded her arms and tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Using the most scientific of approaches, I have derived that you are here”—she paused for dramatic effect—“because of a woman.”

A sheepish grin lit her brother’s face. “Yes, of course. It was never going to be a great mystery. Though I do hate being so damned predictable.”

“If there is trouble with you, there is sure to be a woman at the heart of the matter,” she said knowingly. Their close relationship meant that she knew far more about his vices than could be called proper.

“Truer words have never been spoken, though I never thought you would admit it.”

She scowled at him, causing him to laugh.

“You didn’t think I would pass that up, did you? It was practically handed over on a silver platter. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be causing your fair amount of trouble next week when you head to town.”

“For your information, I have some very big news.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She reached out and grabbed his forearm, unable to hide her excitement. “I talked with Papa earlier this week and . . .” She trailed off, enjoying the anticipation on Richard’s face.

“Yes?”

“He said that if I can gain Mama’s blessing, I can sit this Season out. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Sit the Season out? Why ever would you want to do a thing like that?”

She smacked him soundly on the shoulder. “You cad. You know it is my greatest wish to forego the husband hunt and concentrate on my work here.”

He chuckled and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m only teasing you, Bit. It really is very exciting for you, though for the life of me I can’t imagine why the country life enthralls you so.” He shuddered. “Give me the city any day.”

“Yes, I am counting on that. I fully intend to make Hertford my home even after you inherit, so you’d best get used to the idea. The stables are my domain, and I plan to keep it that way.”

Richard adopted a perfectly snobbish expression. “And have a woman sully her hands with business on my watch? Never.”

She giggled. He could have been impersonating just about anyone in the
ton
. It really was nice to have him here—provided he didn’t cause any trouble before the family departed. That particular thought gave her pause. Whenever Richard was around, they tended to get into mischief together, despite their supposedly mature ages. She had best not leave anything to chance.