Scandalized by a Scoundrel (11 page)

More than a Stranger

Prologue

Alyesbury, England, 1804

Lady 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.

Dear Lady Evelyn,

I would first like say that, as a dear family friend to your brother, I give you leave to address me simply as Hastings. I hope you will likewise allow me to address you as Evie, since that is how I think of you, thanks to your brother’s many stories.

Second, I would like to point out that Richard is free to befriend whomever he chooses. As it is, we get along rather well, so I don’t expect I shall abandon our acquaintance, particularly over his little sister’s complaint. We are, as I have stated, great friends by now.

Third, as Richard is here at Eton, and you are off in the country, I don’t think it is very well done of you to begrudge him a friend. As his friend, I, for one, would want him to have as many acquaintances as would make him happy.

And finally, I am sure you do ride very well—for a girl.

I am, my lady, your most humble servant,

The Honorable Benedict Hastings

Evie’s mouth hung wide at the impertinent response. Why, the little weasel! Insinuating that she, who loved her brother most of all, would begrudge him a friend. And to further goad her by claiming to be such
dear friends
already—it just made her sick.

Dear Hastings,

You have it all wrong. Richard may have as many friends as he likes. You just need to know he already has a best friend. And just so you know, I am eleven years old, and I can tell when someone is taunting me.

Regards,

Lady Evelyn Moore.
NOT
Evie.

Dear Evie,

Yes, I see now how I must have misinterpreted your meaning when you wrote (and I quote), “Kindly leave Richard alone.” You see, I seem to have a wild imagination and thought you wished for me to leave Richard alone. I do apologize.

I would like to propose a compromise. I shall be his friend (best or otherwise, it is up to him), as long as he is on Eton’s grounds. At all other times, I leave him to you. Does this sound fair enough to you?

Awaiting your response with a hopeful heart, I am, as always, your most humble servant,

Hastings

Dear Hastings,

Fine. Just be sure not to visit Richard here during breaks. Speaking of Richard, what a pity it was to hear from him that you almost failed your English literature exam. I suggest you spend less time playing your silly sports and more time studying.

And stop calling me Evie.

Lady Evelyn

Dear Evie,

Thank you for your concern about my academics. Have no fear; I have passed my exams and will be back next term to keep Richard, my best friend, company. How is your pony, Buttercup? Have you taken her for a nice, slow, ladylike walk recently?

Hastings

To read more, buy your copy today at
Barnes and Noble
!

About the Author

Despite being an avid reader and closet writer her whole life, Erin Knightley decided to pursue a sensible career in science.
 
It was only after earning her B.S. and working in the field for years that she realized doing the sensible thing wasn't any fun at all.
 
Following her dreams, Erin left her practical side behind and now spends her days writing. Together with her tall, dark, and handsome husband and their three spoiled mutts, she is living her own Happily Ever After in North Carolina. 

Find her at www.ErinKnightley.com, on Twitter.com/ErinKnightley, or at facebook.com/ErinKnightley

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

More than a Stranger

Copyright © 2012 by Erin Rieber

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

A Taste for Scandal

Copyright © 2012 by Erin Rieber

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Flirting with Fortune

Copyright © 2013 by Erin Rieber

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.