More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel
Read More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel Online
Authors: Erin Knightley
PRAISE FOR
MORE THAN A STRANGER
“This sweet treat of a romance will entrance you with its delicious humor, dollop of suspense, and delectable characters. It’ll make your mouth water!” —
New York Times
bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries
“
More Than a Stranger
is more than a romance—it’s a witty and engaging love story that had me turning pages well into the night, just so I could find out what would happen next. It’s a truly captivating tale of two headstrong friends who become much more to each other than they could have imagined.” —Lydia Dare
SIGNET ECLIPSE
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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, June 2012
Copyright © Erin Rieber, 2012
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
For Kirk, my very own perfect hero. Because of you, I know what it is to be well and truly loved.
Acknowledgments
What an incredible journey it has been getting this, my first book, to publication—one that would have never been possible without the help of a veritable army of people! A big thanks to Lydia Dare, Sabrina Jeffries, Heather Snow, and each and every member of my critique group. Your support, advice, wisdom, and humor not only kept me going, but helped me to thrive.
I am forever grateful to my phenomenal agent, Deidre Knight. I can’t imagine where I’d be without your council, cheerleading, and superagent talents. Also to my wonderful editor, Kerry Donovan, whose expert eye and skilled guidance helped to make this book something I will always be incredibly proud of.
Last but never least, I’m so thankful for my outrageously supportive family. A special thanks to my talented brother, Andy McLeroy, who composed an original piano piece to share with readers on my Web site that somehow took my words and transformed them into music notes. Thanks as well to my sister Kara, whose experience as a writer helped to keep me sane, and finally to my parents, whose constant support has buoyed me in all aspects of my life. The world is truly limitless for the person whose loved ones believe in them.
Contents
Special Preview of
A Taste for Scandal
Prologue
Alyesbury, England, 1804
L
ady Evelyn Moore paused to look behind her one last time before slipping into the little-used music room in the east wing. Closing the door, she grinned. Thank goodness no one had seen her. Given the number of rooms in her family’s sprawling country home, she should have plenty of time to read the newly arrived letter from her brother before anyone found her. Her governess would
not
be pleased, but really, Mrs. White should have known Evie would never be able to delay such a treat until after her lessons.
Skipping across the room to the sun-drenched settee by the window, she plopped down in a heap on the warm velvet cushions. She could hardly wait to read all about Richard’s latest adventures. Even though he had been gone to Eton only two months, it felt more like two years. Without her coconspirator, life at Hertford Hall was considerably duller these days. Not that there was anyplace else on earth she would rather be. It was just that, with her three sisters being entirely too young to be of any use to her—no respectable eleven-year-old would play with children of four and three—and the local villagers always acting so reserved around the daughter of a marquis, excitement came in short bursts, coinciding with either the arrival of the post or her daily riding lessons.
Today, the arrival of the post trumped all. Ripping open the seal, Evie unfolded the letter, the paper still cool from the crisp autumn wind outside, and smoothed a palm over the creases. She tucked her feet beneath her and pored over Richard’s words.
Within moments, however, her excitement began to fade, trickling away like water from a cracked cup, until at last she wrinkled her nose in disgust and flicked the letter away. Honestly, if she had to read one more glowing word about that new friend of his, she was going to scream. She glared at the offending piece of paper beside her, its familiar, messy scrawl repeatedly spelling out the name she had already come to despise.
Hastings
.
The boy had shown up in Richard’s very first letter from school—something about his supposed riding skills. Since then, her brother mentioned him more and more, until this new letter was naught but
Hastings this
and
Hastings that
.
As if
she
cared how wonderful Hastings was.
He surely couldn’t be a better friend to Richard than she. With only two years between them, Richard had been her best friend since . . . since—well, until he left for school, Evie couldn’t remember a single day when they were not at each other’s sides. Surely since the day she was born.
Who did this Hastings think he was, anyway?
Jumping to her feet, she slipped out of the music room, down the corridor, and up to her own bedchamber. Relieved not to have been discovered by Mrs. White—or worse, Mama—Evie hurried to her writing desk, pulled out a fresh piece of paper, and dipped her quill in the heretofore unused pot of red ink. With slow and deliberate lettering, she labored to spell out exactly the right words in her best possible handwriting.
Dear Mr. Hastings,
I am sorry to tell you that my brother already has a best friend. I don’t care that you can shoot and ride well. Besides, I promise that you cannot ride better than me. Kindly leave Richard alone.
She reread the missive and, finding it satisfactory, carefully signed her name. She painstakingly folded the letter onto itself and sealed it with a gummed wafer. Dipping her quill once more, this time in the more elegant black ink, she simply wrote
Hastings
across the top. Having already written a letter to her brother the previous evening, she added a postscript requesting Richard give the letter to his friend.
Well, that ought to take care of that.
* * *
Two weeks later, a letter, addressed in an unfamiliar hand to Lady Evelyn, arrived at the Hall. With her lessons complete and anticipation coursing through her, Evie thundered up the stairs to her room, slammed the door, and flopped down on her window seat before opening the letter.
