"A Charming Love Story"
Reviewed by Jessica Dunn
Posted August 19, 2012
Romance Historical
Lady Evelyn Moore is quite distraught her best friend and
brother, Richard have gone off to Eaton. Evie understands
that it is the way of things Richard is thirteen and boys
his age go off to school to become men while young ladies
like her at eleven must stay home with a governess to learn
how to become the perfect wife. Just because she
understands the way of things doesn't mean she has to like
it. To make matters worse when Richard's letters start to
arrive she notices a trend, he keeps talking about some boy
named Hastings. Evie is determined that her brother remain
her best friend so she sits down and pens a note to this
Hastings fellow so he understands in no uncertain terms to
leave Richard alone.
Benedict Hastings is just beginning to adapt to Eaton and
has become fast friends with Richard. Then one day Hastings
gets a note from Richard's sister, warning him off. Evie's
letters are clever and the two of them continue writing
throughout his years at school. As the two grow older the
letters begin to morph into something more than friendship
but before they are to meet at graduation, Benedict has to
abandon all he holds dear, including Evie. Several years
later, things in his life are in turmoil and he needs a
safe place to hide while he sorts things out.
When a stranger arrives at Hertfort Hall with Richard,
Evie is determined to uncover the secrets they are keeping
from her. Richard is just as resolved to stay away from
Evie so she won't discover who he is. Unfortunately his
plans are thwarted as Evie's allure is more than he can
bear. Evie may not recognize Benedict but her heart seems
to and the things he makes her feel are so much more then
she believed possible.
MORE THAN A STRANGER is a perfectly delightful story. The
characters leap off the page and you get caught up in their
witty tête-à-tête. Author Erin Knightley has created a
romance novel that is fun and interesting without adding
the sex scenes. Knightley waited until her books were
successful to address the subject but has recently come out
with the fact she does not write sex in her books and I
have to say you'll never miss it.
SUMMARY
When his family abandoned him at Eton, Benedict Hastings
found an unexpected ally in his best friend’s sister. Her
letters kept him going—until the day he had to leave
everything behind. Years later, Benedict has seen his
share
of betrayal, but when treachery hits close to home, he
turns
to his old friend for safe haven….
After five torturous years on the marriage circuit, Lady
Evelyn Moore is finally free to live her life as she
wishes.
So when her brother shows up with a dashing stranger, she
finds herself torn between her dreams...and newfound
desires. Despite his determination to keep Evie at a
distance, Benedict cannot deny the attraction that began
with a secret correspondence. Yet as they begin to
discover
one another, the dangers of Benedict’s world find them,
threatening their lives, their love, and everything they
thought they could never have…
Excerpt"Oof!"
The air was knocked right from her lungs as Evie
collided at full speed with an unmoving brick wall that
she
knew for a fact should not be there. She stumbled, almost
falling backward when a pair of large strong hands
grasped
her upper arms and steadied her.
"I beg your pardon. Are you quite all right?"
The brick wall spoke surprisingly good English for an
inanimate object.
Evie's gaze traveled up the dark gray greatcoat, past
the sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, and settled briefly on a
very inviting set of masculine lips before reaching the
man's dark, velvet brown eyes. Words failed her
completely.
Where had this gorgeous man come from? For endless
seconds
she stood stock–still, held not only in his grasp,
but in his curious gaze as well. He had the loveliest
eyes
she had ever seen, like the burnished mahogany of her
father's heirloom desk.
"Miss? Are you injured?"
Evie blinked. She should say something. She should
really say something. "Um. . . quite."
His dark eyebrows scrunched together as he tilted his
head slightly. "Quite . . . injured?"
"No! Quite all right. I'm fine, really. Um, thank
you."
Oh Lord, why must she lose her wits, now of all times?
Here, now, with a gorgeous stranger very nearly holding
her
in his arms? She finally understood what it meant to be
struck dumb by something, and at the worst possible time.
And now he was looking at her as if she was one horse
short of a matched pair. "You're certain?"
Evie almost laughed. Was she certain? Not in the
slightest. She felt as though she had just been spun
around
in circles, but there was no way she would tell him as
much. She took a quick step back, pulling away from his
steadying hands. It was far enough to miss his warmth,
but
at least she could still detect the subtle, enticing hint
of leather and sandalwood. She took a slow breath and
offered him a smile. "Yes, I'm certain. Please accept my
apologies for not watching where I was going, Mr. . . .
?"
"Evie!"
Evie jumped, whirling around at the unexpected voice
from behind her. "Richard! What on earth are you doing
here?"
She wouldn't have been more surprised if Prinny
himself
had been standing in her stables. Joy swooped through
her,
and she opened her arms to her brother. Grinning, he came
forward and scooped her up in a bear hug. When he
released
her, Evie looked him over, taking in his tousled blond
hair
and wind–reddened cheeks.
"Well, it's good to see you, too, Little Bit. Are you
headed out for a ride?"
"Yes, I was before I ran into our visitor. A friend of
yours, I presume?" She motioned toward the stranger but
froze when their eyes met. He was watching her with such
intensity, she instinctively took a tiny step back. The
look was gone in an instant. Evie blinked in confusion.
How
completely odd. Could she have possibly imagined the
fierceness of his gaze? Surely she had—she had only
just met the man! He'd have no cause to care one way or
another about her. Nonetheless, a tiny shiver raced down
her spine.
A chuckle drew her attention back to Richard. He
flashed
a broad, cheeky grin her way, shaking his head slowly. "I
can't believe I haven't introduced the two of you yet."
Evie raised an eyebrow. He was up to something.
She cut her eyes toward the other man. She did not
want
to embarrass herself in front of him any more than she
already had. Fortunately, he paid her no mind at all. The
whole of his attention was focused sharply on Richard.
For some reason, her brother seemed to enjoy the
moment.
With his usual flare for dramatics, he said, "My dear
Evie,
it is my great pleasure to introduce you to my friend,
the
venerated, the enigmatic, the long–aw—"
And at that moment the stranger stepped forward.
* * *
One second, Benedict's brain had been frozen from the
shock of discovering that the incredibly beautiful blond
goddess before him was, in fact, Evie. His Evie. The Evie
who was supposed to be in London, far away from the house
he sought refuge in.
The next thing he knew, he was jerking into action,
opening his mouth without a clue about what he would say,
only suddenly very sure that Evie could not know he was
Hastings. "Mr. James Benedict, at your service, my lady."
The lie was like vinegar in his mouth, and he gritted
his teeth with the effort to keep his expression neutral.
God, what had he done? His gaze shot to Richard, who
stood
just to the right of his sister. At any other time, his
face would have been comical. Not then. No, at that
moment,
Benedict could do nothing but pray his old friend
wouldn't
call him out right then and there.
Blessedly oblivious to the silent battle between the
men, Evie grinned. "It's a pleasure to make your
acquaintance, Mr. Benedict. And thank you for speaking
up;
my brother does tend to like to hear himself speak." She
bumped Richard with her shoulder teasingly. Thank God she
didn't look to his face. With his mouth frozen open and
his
eyes akin to those of a startled owl, she would have
known
in an instant something was not right.
Benedict met Richard's gaze straight on, willing him
to
go along with the ruse. The damned lie had just come out,
as natural as taking a breath of air. Really, what the
hell
else could Benedict have done? Bits and pieces of that
dreadful last letter came rushing back to him. If she
knew
who he was, she would probably eviscerate him—with
words, if he were lucky, though he deserved worse.
Damn it all, he had too much to handle as it was;
adding
in an irate ghost from his past would make the situation
unbearable.
Loosening the muscles of his jaw, he offered her his
best impersonation of a lighthearted smile. "Yes, I was
beginning to wonder if he'd simply forgotten who I was."
Richard's mouth snapped shut then, and he gave
Benedict
a considering look. "No," he said slowly, "I for one,
have
not forgotten who you are, Mister Benedict."
The emphasis was subtle, but unmistakable. Still,
Benedict's galloping pulse slowed a little. Richard would
go along with him—for now, at least. Even as he
tried
to concentrate on the farce in front of him, Benedict's
mind raced to think of an explanation for when he and
Richard were next alone. Whatever it was, it had to be
damned good.
"Well, allow me to welcome you to Hertford Hall." Evie
gave a small flick of her wrist, encompassing the whole
of
the house and grounds past the stable door. Obediently,
Benedict wrenched his gaze from her attractive form and
surveyed the scenery as any normal guest would. It truly
was impressive—even more so than his own family's
estate in Leicestershire. With the massive stone facade
rising from the gently sloping hill, it had the effect of
somehow presiding over the neatly manicured lawns and
rolling forestland beyond. There was no mistaking the
pride
the family took in the place.
"Thank you, my lady. It is a pleasure to finally see
the
place for myself." He could have bitten his tongue.
Finally?
Her hand went to her trim waist, which was nicely
emphasized by the cut of her light blue riding habit. "I
hadn't realized you'd been acquainted so very long. How
is
it that you and my brother know each other, Mr.
Benedict?"
A very good question. Beside her, Richard crossed his
arms and tilted his head to the side, the first hint of
amusement coloring his expression. With both siblings
waiting expectantly, Benedict decided to go with the most
obvious answer. "Eton, actually. We met in the early
days."
As a person who spent half his time living a lie, he
knew it was best to stick as close to the truth as
possible.
"When was it, exactly?" Richard asked, the very
picture
of innocence. "I can't seem to remember."
Oh yes. Clearly he was starting to enjoy himself.
Benedict opened his mouth to respond, but the distant
thunder of an approaching horse gave him pause. Whoever
it
was, he had Benedict's undying gratitude. He turned in
time
to see a lone rider on a very handsome red mount rapidly
approaching. Though the man sported gray hair to
Richard's
blond and a slightly stockier build, the resemblance was
impossible to miss. "Richard, is that your father?"
"Indeed it is," he responded, waving hugely at the
older
man. The marquis returned the gesture, and the siblings
hurried forward to greet him.
Benedict hung back, glad for a second to try to gather
his wits. Granville had no idea how indebted Benedict was
to him for his timely—and inadvertent—rescue.
He took a long, slow pull of air, trying to calm his
overworked nerves.
After all these years—after all those
letters—it was nothing short of shocking to see
Evie
in the flesh. To hear her smooth, clear voice and
fleetingly feel her lithe body pressed against his.
Even toward the end, when she had invaded both his
thoughts and his dreams as an ethereal, indistinct
beauty,
he could have never imagined how lovely she would be in
person. All those emotions he had pushed into the far
recesses of his mind almost a decade earlier now roared
through his body, heating his blood. Her luminous, nearly
crystalline blue eyes, her open yet somehow enticing
smile—even her slightly tanned skin added to her
allure. It was as though the forbidden fruit had been
placed before him, perfect in all its untouchable glory.
Benedict swallowed, cursing his wretched luck.
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