Free More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel by Erin Knightley

a sigh of relief as the maid bustled in and stood to the side to await Evie’s instructions. “Well, I believe I will get out of these clothes and perhaps take a bath before dinner.”
    Her mother smoothed a hand over her hair and nodded. “That sounds like a very good idea.” She walked over to where Evie stood, licked the pad of her thumb, and brushed it over Evie’s chin. “I don’t believe mud is intended to be a cosmetic, after all.”
    Evie wrinkled her nose at the gesture. “And here I thought it was the newest thing.”
    Her mother chuckled, the skin around her soft gray eyes crinkling. “Well, I suppose that explains a great deal. Enjoy your bath, dear, and I will see you at eight.” She patted Evie’s cheek before heading for the door, then paused just before exiting. Her hand on the doorknob, she half turned and said over her shoulder, “Do be sure to wear something nice.”
    As her mother slipped from the room and closed the heavy oak door with a quiet click, Evie’s smile fell. Drat. She had a sneaking suspicion her mother had not given up on Mr. Benedict, after all.

Chapter Six
Proper punishment, indeed! When it comes to you, I shall never respect my elder. And by the way, I just added that last letter to my list of letters to send to Grandmama Hastings. The poor dear—I hope her heart can handle her grandson’s wickedness.
—From Evie to Hastings
    “G ood God, man—who tied your cravat—a wild animal?”
    “And good evening to you, too,” Benedict said, pulling back the door to admit Richard into his chambers. Outfitted in a deep blue velvet tailcoat with silver buttons, light blue trousers, and an elaborately tied white cravat, Richard could not have looked more the opposite of Benedict. “At least I don’t look as though I’ve been assaulted by a French dressmaker.”
    Richard’s mouth dropped open in mock affront. “I’ll have you know, my tailor ,Mr. Babcock, is as British as I am.” He waved a dismissive hand in Benedict’s direction and grinned. “You, on the other hand, don’t look as though you even have a tailor. Where did you even find such a plain jacket? And those trousers—good God, is that a frayed hem on the bottom of the left leg?”
    Benedict chuckled. “It sounds as though I look the part of an academic short on funds and fashion sense.”
    “You can say that again. You do realize it wouldn’t kill you to wear some color now and again. After all, I have it on the best authority that women love a stylishly dressed man.”
    “I’ll leave the rainbow to you, my friend.” Benedict had learned long ago that the simpler his wardrobe, the broader the range of situations into which he could blend. Besides, he preferred not to look like a damned peacock. He bent to search through his bag for the pair of evening gloves he had brought. Slipping them on, he took one last look in the mirror. Plain, but classic. His physique did look a little more toned than one would expect of an academic, but all in all, it would do.
    Turning back to Richard, he said, “After you.”
    When they arrived in the drawing room, only Lord Granville was present, despite their being right on time.
    “Good evening, gentlemen,” the marquis said, rising from his position on the sofa to greet them. “Well, Richard, what did Benedict think about the hunt?”
    The hunt? Benedict looked askance at his friend.
    “Actually, it completely slipped my mind. Earlier, my father and I were discussing his new Irish hunter—the one he was riding when we arrived. We are most anxious to put the horse through its paces. Would you like to join us for an impromptu hunt on Friday? It will merely be an exercise, an informal affair. It is quite the end of the season, but we are sure to enjoy ourselves, nonetheless.”
    Enjoying himself was not exactly something Benedict could imagine doing at the present moment—or in the foreseeable future, for that matter. But of course, Richard had no way of knowing the