More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (19 page)

Evie’s softly spoken plea cut straight through his anger and right to his heart. He pressed his eyes closed for a second before turning to face her. She stood at the end of the aisle, a stack of books cradled in the crook of her arm and a hesitant smile on her lips. He knew right then and there he would never be able to resist her.

“I could never be cross with you, Evie.”

She smiled slowly and took a few tentative steps forward. “I’m not sure I believe that, but I do hope that, at the very least, you have forgiven me for dragging you here with me.”

“Who am I to deny a lady anything? You wished me to accompany you, and here I am. No dragging necessary.”

“I thought that, as an academic, you might enjoy the shop. It is quite well stocked.”

The reminders of his deception always surfaced when he least expected them. He wouldn’t correct her, but he wouldn’t lie, either. “I have indeed always been a lover of books. As for the shop, it is . . . unusual.”

She chuckled, looking around at the chaos surrounding them. “Mr. Darcy is much too involved in the contents of the books to bother with the organization of them.”

“I can see that. It is a wonder he can sell anything at all—or find anything, for that matter.”

“Interestingly enough, he can find any book in the store in mere moments. I have long since given up trying to find what I need and instead simply ask for it. It does make browsing very interesting, however.”

She tilted her head and read two adjacent titles on the shelf nearest where she stood. “
The Count of Monte Cristo
and
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
. I cannot begin to guess why the two of these are grouped together.” She looked up and snapped her fingers. “I have it! Both books involve the comeuppance of a once-strong oppressor. How could I have not seen such an obvious correlation?”

He raised his shoulders briefly in an “I don’t know” gesture and looked to the shelf to his right. “Ah, I have
A Dictionary of the English Language
and
The Forest of Montalbano
. Clearly, these two have much in common.”

“Oh?” she prompted, placing her free hand on her hip.

“I daresay every word in
The Forest of Montalbano
can be found in here,” he said, thumping the spine of the dictionary. She laughed lightly, and he felt the corners of his own mouth lift. Hearing her joy illuminated a tiny corner of the darkness within him.

“Clearly. How could I have missed it?”

“There now, it is not your fault, my lady. One cannot expect the fairer sex to understand these sorts of things.”

Without missing a beat, she arched her left eyebrow and said airily, “If that is what makes the male population feel superior, then by all means, I will leave it to you. We females prefer to use our talents on more worthwhile endeavors, such as rearing the next generation.”

“Indeed? I was not aware that you were dedicating your time to the upbringing of the future generation. I bow to your superior pursuits, my lady.” He sketched a shallow, mocking bow, and she made a face at him.

“Very well, you have me there. Though, I will say, being the eldest female sibling, I certainly have had a hand in my sisters’ upbringing. But really, I have naught but the reins of the family business in my repertoire of pursuits.”

“A very unique pursuit, if I may say so. I don’t believe I have ever met a lady who was interested in working for a living.”

“That is not fair. I am convinced there are many ladies who would enjoy outside pursuits but would never do so thanks to the restrictions society places on us. Somehow I doubt you have read Mary Wollstonecraft’s
A Vindication of the Rights of Women
.”

Benedict was momentarily taken aback. Leaning his shoulder against the shelf nearest him, he said, “Actually, I have, but I would not think the same of you. She is rather vitriolic in her assessment of the aristocracy, of which, I might point out, you are a member.”

Evie shook her head. “She is disdainful of the
uselessness
of the aristocracy. In case it is not obvious enough, I am working toward being a useful member of society. I am more industrious than most men of my class.”

“Of that I will brook no argument. You, Evie, are unlike any member of the
ton
I have ever encountered.”

She paused for a moment, adjusting the position of the books in her arms. “I am going to take that as a compliment. Although I would never say that I work for a living, I do gain immense satisfaction from my involvement in the business. Nobody seems to care or understand that I enjoy the challenge and purpose that the position poses.”

“Ah, but would not ‘rearing the future generation’ also pose challenges and purpose?” He knew her well enough to anticipate her reaction and was rewarded with just the response he expected: an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

“Of course it does, you—” She paused in time to save whatever insult was poised on the tip of her tongue. “I was merely pointing out there is more than one way to contribute to society.”

He chuckled quietly. “All right, I call a truce. So, what books have you found already?”

He watched in fascination as her cheeks flushed and she flattened the books to her chest.

“Just a few silly novels. For the girls, of course,” she said, beginning to back up. “Have you found anything to pique your interest?”

He was not about to let her get away with her attempt at evasion. His hand shot out and snatched one of the books from her grasp. She cried out in dismay, but he ignored her as he read the title.

“Byron?” He couldn’t help but screw up his face in disgust. “You read treaties on the rights of women, which, by the way, expound on the ridiculousness of false sensibilities, and then you go and purchase a book of silly, romantic poems?”

Her flush deepened, and she snatched the book back, dropping the other two books she was holding. He bent to help her, but she yelped, “Don’t!” He stepped back in surprise, and she quickly snatched them off the floor.

She pushed her drooping hair off her forehead with as much dignity as she could manage and drew a deep breath. “As I said, they are not for me. Let me just leave them with Mr. Darcy while you look for something you think I might benefit from.”

He pursed his lips in an effort not to laugh at her; he did not think she would respond well to it after her defensive embarrassment. He should have known after the Austen book she had left outside his door that she harbored a romantic side. Nodding his head, he agreed. “Leave it to me. I shall find something right up your alley.”

She dipped her head and scurried off toward the counter, leaving him to peruse the random assortment of books in peace. He found he was smiling to himself as he browsed. He tried to straighten his features—he needed to discourage Evie from spending more time with him, not encourage her. Perhaps a bit of teasing was in order—something to break the building tension between them without actually hurting her. In a sudden moment of inspiration, he decided on just the book.

He followed Evie to the counter. “I wish for the book to be a surprise. Wait outside, if you will, and I will make my purchase and join you shortly.”

She gave him an odd look but shrugged her shoulders and complied.

As the shopkeeper retrieved his selection, Benedict congratulated himself for the cleverness of his choice. Anything he could do to discourage her from being in his company was a step in the right direction . . . especially since he seemed to be more drawn to her with every passing moment.

Chapter Fifteen

Perhaps, if someday the stars align, there is someone I might wish to be introduced to. If this person would also like to be introduced to me, that is a question I cannot yet answer. Perhaps the spring will bring the answer to that?

—From Evie to Hastings

A
s she prepared for dinner, Evie was still fuming about the joke Benedict had played on her. Handing over the package with an innocent smile earlier in the carriage, she had eagerly torn the brown paper away. After reading the neatly printed title, she skewered him with a glare. “What is this supposed to be?”

Richard pulled the book from her hands as Benedict affected a wounded expression and replied, “Don’t you like it? Only yesterday we were quoting Shakespeare to each other, so I thought you might enjoy my favorite of the Bard’s works.”

About this time Richard erupted into laughter, passing the book back to her. “He’s right, Bit. I have it on the best authority that you do love Shakespeare. Well chosen, my friend, well chosen.”

She dropped the offending play on the seat next to her in disgust. Oh yes, Benedict was
so
clever. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “
The Taming of the Shrew
. Ha. Ha. How exceedingly clever.”

“What? I thought you would love a play you could relate to.” Benedict was all innocence.

Richard laughed even harder at this, bending forward before rocking back in his seat. A grin broke out on Benedict’s face; it was so smug, she longed to slap it off.

Men. And others wondered why she remained unmarried.

Now, hours later, she watched in silence as Morgan worked to create a more elaborate evening hairstyle, weaving in a string of pearls among her upswept tresses. Evie liked the way the pearls caught the candlelight, highlighting the artful curls her maid had spent an age to perfect.

Tonight, Evie wanted to look so good that Benedict would eat his
and
the Bard’s words. So far everything was going to plan—her maid was doing a superb job, and the simple, elegant white gown Evie wore fit her to perfection. She debated adding a piece of lace over the low décolleté and decided against it. For the first time in her life, she wanted to attract a man specifically so she could make him as crazy as he was making her. It might be petty, but it was the only retribution she had. She couldn’t
wait
to see his face when he saw her.

When at last she was alone, Evie glanced at the clock—almost a full hour until dinner. She sighed and wandered over to her window. Pushing aside the curtains, she stared out into the evening sky, which was still tinged with a faint orange at the distant horizon. As her eyes adjusted, she felt a genuine flash of pleasure—the stars were out! Well, of course, if she had not been so preoccupied with the two idiots in the carriage with her on the way home, she would have realized the emerging blue sky would give way to a starry night.

It was too good to pass up. On a whim, she slipped on her shoes and grabbed a warm shawl. Blowing out her lamp, she made a break for the comfort of the outdoors.

By some miracle, she made it all the way to the back terrace without being stopped by a single person. In a family the size of hers, that was quite a feat. The chilly air swirled around her ankles when she lifted her skirts a few inches before descending the stone steps into the garden. It was considerably cooler than it had been on their outing, and she was glad for the shawl tucked around her arms.

Once on the pebbled path, Evie dropped her skirts and grasped the ends of the shawl, crossing her arms for further warmth as she walked toward the back gardens so the lights from the windows would not diminish the view. She knew where she was going; there were many times when she escaped from the house to gaze at the familiar patterns of stars in the heavens.

She found her favorite bench, the only one with an unobstructed view of the sky in the garden. Though the flowers were not yet in bloom, the smell of fresh life, newly tilled earth, and grass clippings filled her senses. Sitting down on the cool and thankfully dry stone, she looked down at her feet and closed her eyes. Just as she had done when she was a child, she played her own little game by throwing her head back and opening her eyes to focus on the first star that caught her attention.

This night, not one but two came into focus, and she smiled happily at the coincidence. The twin pins of light were none other than Cor Coaroli, the Heart of Charles, which meant her gaze was appropriately aimed at the Canes Venatici, the Hunting Dogs. A wide grin spread across her face. Clearly, such a coincidence had to mean good luck for the impending hunt.

From the Hunting Dogs, she traced her way through several of her favorite springtime constellations, taking comfort as she always did in the fact that the stars were completely reliable and dependable. Even if the clouds rolled in and her view was obscured, she knew the stars were still maintaining their exact locations in the heavens, patiently waiting until they could shine again.

She was feeling relaxed now, no longer obsessing about Benedict or anything else. She let all those things fall away and simply observed. It was nice to revel in the quiet, without her family, the servants, or even horses causing some sort of background noise or another.

“You’re shivering.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the softly spoken statement, letting out an odd sort of half yelp, half squeal in the process. Hand to her galloping heart, she whipped around to peer in the direction of the unexpected voice. On a small bench under a tree not twenty feet away sat Benedict, innocent as could be.

“Merciful heavens, is it your intent to stop my heart?” Evie asked breathlessly. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

She could see him now, sprawled inelegantly across the wooden bench, no hat or gloves in sight. He stood and stretched before walking toward her.

“I apologize for that. I suppose I didn’t think. I didn’t want to intrude on your quiet time, but when your teeth began chattering loud enough to wake the dead, I felt it was my duty to speak up.”