More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (6 page)

Placing her hands on her hips, she looked him in the eye meaningfully. “I have Papa’s blessing, but only if I can garner Mama’s as well. I have not yet spoken with her; I’m waiting for just the right moment.
Nothing
can go wrong between now and when they leave. I mean it,” she said, raising an eyebrow for emphasis. “I won’t have you and your friend upsetting the delicate balance of things while you are here. The last thing I need is Mama and Papa rethinking the mental capacity of their offspring.”

Richard barked with laughter. “You do have a way with words, Bit. Are you sure you don’t want to take another look at that lead in
Othello
?”

“Very funny. I’m quite serious, however. If you do
anything
to mess this up for me, you will live to regret it, I assure you.”

This time Richard rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother. Although I think if you wanted to be truly dramatic, you could say, ‘You’ll
rue
the day you messed with me.’” He shook his fist theatrically to punctuate “rue
.
” “It has a certain flair, don’t you think?”

She shook her head at his antics. “Yes, a good ruing always spices things up.” She paused and fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. As casually as she could manage, she said, “Speaking of spicing things up, who, exactly, is this Mr. Benedict?” Just saying his name made a tiny thrill dance through her.

“As he said, just an old friend.”

“If he is such an old friend, why have I never heard of him before? I would have sworn that I knew all of your friends, old or otherwise.”

“I’m sure I mentioned him at some point,” he said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “You must have just forgotten. And really, what does it matter? We’ll be here only a few days, and then we will be on our way.”

Evie furrowed her brow. He hadn’t ever mentioned the man, she was sure of it. But perhaps he was right; it didn’t really matter. “All right, then. You’d best go freshen up before our little gathering. You look and smell like somebody dragged you through the stables.”

Richard exhaled, sounding as if he had been holding his breath. “Right. I am going to say hello to Mother before washing up, and you are going to go gather the girls. In”—he checked his watch fob—“approximately twenty-six minutes, I will see you in the drawing room. I fully expect you to revert to your earlier enthusiasm at the divine pleasure of my company by then. No more worries about Richard behaving badly, all right?”

She nodded, and he winked before taking his leave. Despite his nonchalance about the whole thing, she found herself thinking there was just something . . .
off
about Mr. Benedict. She gave a little shrug and started up the grand, curving staircase. It was probably nothing. And really, when one was as handsome as he, one could get away with a bit of peculiarity here and there.

When she reached the top of the stairs, the door to a nearby guest room clicked closed, catching her attention. Evidently, Mr. Benedict had been given the Blue Room.

Anticipation skittered through her at the thought of seeing him again, and she bit her lip against the delectable feeling. Why was it she had the sudden desire to go knock on the man’s door? She shook her head at the scandalous thought.

Perhaps it wasn’t Richard’s behavior she should be concerned with.

Chapter Four

Bravery aside, I am a man of my word, and I wouldn’t break an agreement with a lady. I also wouldn’t break one with you. Besides, it is much more fun to banter with you by letter than to mind my manners in person. Wouldn’t you agree?

—From Hastings to Evie

W
hen the last servant shuffled from the room and pulled the door closed behind him, Benedict closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.

Thank God
that
was over.

Too bad he had mere minutes to come up with an explanation for Richard that would not result in Benedict either being kicked out on his arse or meeting Richard on a grassy knoll at dawn, weapon in hand. Or worse—being handed over to Evie as the liar he was.

Peeling off his jacket, Benedict tossed it across the foot of the gigantic four-poster bed and inspected his surroundings. Across from the bed, a small sitting area was arranged around a fireplace where freshly lit logs cracked and popped noisily. The meager warmth of the fire worked to chase the faint chill from the enormous room. Huge, nearly floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, and the afternoon sunlight poured through in slanted columns, highlighting the stirred-up dust in the freshly prepared room.

He dropped onto the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed and went to work removing his boots.

What could he possibly say to Richard to explain his reasoning? Perhaps he should say he was running from the law and had assumed a false identity to avoid capture. Or that a jilted lover was after him. Or that he had suffered an attack of the mind and had momentarily forgotten his own name.

He dropped his left boot on the floor with a thud. No, he should tell Richard the truth—or at least as much of it as possible. He was Benedict’s closest friend, for God’s sake. He couldn’t look himself in the eye if he just started piling on the lies.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. “Enter,” he called, yanking off the right boot.

Richard strode in, looking remarkably refreshed. “All settled? Yes? Good—now I am positively rapt to know what the devil possessed you to introduce yourself the way you did,
Mister
Benedict.” The question was said without anger, but with genuine curiosity. He settled on one of the blue-and-white-striped chairs beside the fireplace and waited for Benedict’s response.

Benedict ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath.
Here goes nothing.
“I know—not my most intelligent decision today. But you remember the correspondence your sister and I shared when we were children?” Richard nodded, and Benedict continued. “From what I have gathered over the years, she never actually shared with you how that particular relationship ended.”

Richard’s left eyebrow rose. “I had assumed it died naturally when you left school, but my astounding powers of deductive reasoning now lead me to believe that wasn’t the case.”

“Not exactly. I was young, and an idiot, and I didn’t want my old life following me to my exciting new one. Evie is a bit, well, persistent, shall we say, and when she wouldn’t take the hint that I didn’t wish to continue writing, I sent a rather strongly worded letter that ended the correspondence.” Benedict tried not to cringe when the wording of that last letter flitted through his mind. God, all these years later and he still felt like the worst sort of cad. It was definitely for the best that Hastings remained in the past when it came to Evie.

Richard looked genuinely surprised. “How odd. She never said a word about it.”

“Which should tell you something about how she felt about the letter. I know how close the two of you are. Has she ever kept anything from you before?”

“Not that I’m aware of, though I must admit now I’m not so sure.” Richard sat forward, rubbing his palms over his knees. “Still, that was nearly a decade ago—do you really think it’s necessary to lie about your name?”

“Not a lie so much as a rearranging, really. My middle name is James, after all. But really, would you want to be me when she realized that the blackguard who called her an ‘annoying little pest of a girl with all the grace and decorum of a horsefly’ is here in the flesh?”

Richard smothered a horrified laugh beneath his hand. “No, I most definitely would not. That was not well done of you at all, my friend. As a matter of fact,” he said, rubbing a hand over his chin, “it might be worth it to tell her the truth just to see what she will do to you.”

“You did go along with it when I introduced myself,” Benedict reminded him. His tone was lighthearted despite the disquiet slipping through his belly. With so much turmoil in his life right now and all that was at stake with his future, he could ill afford to be distracted by further drama.

“True enough. Interestingly, despite bringing up the fact she has never heard mention of a James Benedict, Evie seemed to take our sudden appearance relatively in stride. Rather worrisome, really. She is bound to pin me down sooner or later.”

“Perhaps she’ll let it drop.”

Richard snorted. “Certainly. And I can expect to sprout wings and take flight sometime in the next hour or so. Care to join me?”

An unexpected grin lifted the corner of Benedict’s mouth. It was a gift really, that Richard could make him laugh, even now. “All right, I suppose we should get our story straight. I can be an old friend passing through on the way to take a new fellowship position in the north.”

“An academic? That is rich.”

“Well, if I were a peer, they would know my family name, and I’d rather not impersonate a parson or military man. Simple, respectable, and unremarkable.”

“I suppose that could work,” Richard said doubtfully.

“Just keep to the story, and I will strive to be as uninteresting as I can manage.”

“Yes, but what are you going to do differently?”

Benedict ignored him completely. “And I will do everything I can to stay out of her way while I am here.”

An odd sound filtered through the door, and the men exchanged glances. Dread dropped in Benedict’s stomach like a lead weight. He’d been a spy too long not to know a suspicious sound when he heard one. Richard held a finger to his lips and rose from the chair. Benedict shook his head and pointed to his stocking feet. Quick as a wraith, he was out of his chair and across the room.

In one swift movement, he twisted the knob and yanked the door open. A blond-headed female stumbled into the room and right into his chest for the second time that day. Oh God, had Evie heard—

“Beatrice!” Richard exclaimed, his brow knitted in consternation. “What do you think you are doing, you little eavesdropper?”

Beatrice? Benedict breathed a long sigh as relief swept through him. Quickly, he set the interloper away from him and closed the door. It was obvious now that she was just a look-alike to her older sister. Both her hair and her eyes were darker, and she was of a much slighter build.

The girl’s pale skin flared a dull red as she lifted her shoulders in a sort of half shrug. “Well, I’m sorry, but when you didn’t come to see us, I slipped away from our lessons to come see you, but just as I came down the stairs, you disappeared into the guest room, and then I heard your voices, and, well”—she paused to suck in a breath—“I didn’t want to interrupt if it was an important conversation, after all.”

Richard’s lips were pursed, and his hands rested on his hips; yet his expression was rather indulgent. “And what did you hear, you naughty girl?”

She grinned and turned to Benedict, dropping a quick curtsy. “Hello, Mr. Hastings. It is
so
thrilling to finally meet you in person.”

Richard and Benedict groaned in unison. Bloody hell, this was
not
going to be his day—or his week. Perhaps not even his year.

“All right, Bea,” Richard said, hooking an arm about his sister’s shoulders and guiding her to the settee by the windows. “What is it going to take to keep you quiet?”

“Why doesn’t anyone think I can keep a secret?” she grumbled, managing to look genuinely miffed.

“Well, my dear, everyone knows you can’t trust a spy.”

Benedict made a face. That little quip really stung. Giving himself a mental shake, he retraced his steps to the bed to retrieve his jacket. If he must have the disadvantage of being bootless in front of the girl, he could at least be properly outfitted from the knees up. “Lady Beatrice, I apologize that you have been drawn into our little ruse. I know that you wouldn’t want to mislead your sister—”

“Is that what we are calling lying through one’s teeth these days?” She smiled innocently as she spoke.

Benedict ground his teeth against the retort that sprang to his lips. He needed the girl in his corner, whether he liked it or not. Grabbing one of the chairs by the fireplace, he carried it over to the settee and set it directly in front of her. Any good manipulator knew that being on eye level was important when trying to garner an opponent’s favor. “I merely wish to spare your sister the hurt of dredging up old memories. Had I known she was in residence, I never would have come. As I will be here only a short time, surely you can see I simply wished to spare her feelings.”

Beatrice snorted. “You merely wished to spare
yourself
the hurt of her thrashing you when she discovers who you really are.”

“That is uncalled for, Bea,” Richard warned, his features for once looking serious.

“Says the man who played along with the deception.”

“Says the girl who relies on her only brother to send her oil paints.”

Beatrice gasped, drawing back in horror. “What has that to do with anything?”

Richard leaned back against the cushions, smug now. “Only that if you choose to tattle to anyone—Evie, Mother or Father, or even your maid—you’ll soon be reacquainted with the delights of painting only with watercolors. You know, just as a proper young lady should.”

“But that isn’t fair!”

“Such is life, my dear.”

A cautious smile came to Benedict’s lips. Beatrice looked truly appalled by the threat. He held his peace, however, waiting to see what she would say.

After several seconds, her thin shoulders drooped and she gave a tiny nod. “Very well. I won’t tell her anything. But just so you know,” she said, straightening a little, “it’s not just because of the paints. She wants something very badly, and I think her reaction to Hastings’s presence could jeopardize her plans.”