Read A Taste for Scandal Online
Authors: Erin Knightley
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
A Taste for Scandal
PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF ERIN KNIGHTLEY
A TASTE FOR SCANDAL
“One of the sweetest and most beautifully crafted romances I’ve read in years.”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Jillian Hunter
MORE THAN A STRANGER
“This sweet treat of a romance will entrance you with its delicious humor, dollop of suspense, and delectable characters. It’ll make your mouth water!”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries
“
More Than a Stranger
is more than a romance—it’s a witty and engaging love story that had me turning pages well into the night, just so I could find out what would happen next. It’s a truly captivating tale of two headstrong friends who become much more to each other than they could have imagined.”
—Lydia Dare
“Wonderful and witty. Erin Knightley will delight readers.”
—Vicky Dreiling
Also by Erin Knightley
More Than a Stranger
SIGNET ECLIPSE
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First Printing, December 2012
Copyright © Erin Rieber, 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
For all the incredible women who have come before me, but particularly for my mother, Lynn. I could ask for no better example of how to be a hardworking, dedicated, upstanding woman of virtue.
And for Kirk, who didn’t take it personally when I reacted to his business trips with glee when my deadline was looming, and who dutifully tried every recipe I made for this novel. A good man knows when he’s needed; a better one knows when to get the heck out of Dodge and let his woman write!
Acknowledgments
As always, a book is the product of many hands. I am forever grateful for my wonderful editor, Kerry Donovan, and her team at NAL. Besides their work on the story itself, I must point out what an amazing job they did on the gorgeous cover for this book. A big thank-you as well to my fantastic agent, Deidre Knight, and her intrepid team at the Knight Agency.
Before I knew anything about this book, I knew what my heroine’s perfectly English name would be. Thanks to my niece for lending me her first name and to my friend Katie for lending me her last. Also, I’d like to say thanks to my neighbors Nicole and Christina for helping to keep me sane whenever I come up for air, to Olivia Kelly and my critique group for your sharp eyes and ever-present friendships, to Melody May, who’s always up for a good contest, and most of all, to my incredibly supportive family.
Contents
Chapter One
Richard Moore, Earl of Raleigh, grinned as the first golden rays of sunshine stretched across the cloudless sky above him, heralding a new spring day. There were few things more magnificent than a sunrise—provided it was the backdrop to the end of a delectable evening, not the ungodly early start to a new day. It mattered little that the sun was already well above the horizon; it had only just breached the towering roofs of Mayfair, and that was close enough to a sunrise for him.
Yawning hugely, he approached the lacquered black door to Granville House without the slightest hesitation and, as always, it swung open on well-oiled hinges just in time.
“Good morning, Lord Raleigh.”
“Good night, Finnington,” Richard replied, winking as he handed over his hat and gloves and headed for the stairs. It was damned inconvenient that the suite of rooms he rented during the Season—when his whole family converged on Granville House en masse—was still in the midst of repairs and was therefore uninhabitable, but having Finnington
almost
made up for it.
As Richard mounted the landing and turned toward his room, he belatedly remembered to tread carefully so as not to disturb the family. It was strange, tiptoeing around in his own home. For nine months of the year, his parents and sisters stayed at their county estate in Aylesbury and Richard had the run of the place. Of course, it would be the only time of the year that they were in town that a portion of the century-old roof of his bachelor lodgings would choose to collapse, flooding his rooms in the process. The sooner those repairs were done, the better.
Just as he was about to pass the master suite, the door whispered open and his father stepped out, freshly shaved and dressed. They both paused, startled by the other’s presence.
Though they shared the same light blue eyes and tall, athletic build, at that moment Richard and the impeccably groomed Marquis of Granville were jarringly incongruous in their appearance. His father looked him up and down, no doubt taking in Richard’s tousled hair, rumpled jacket, and simply tied cravat, all of which had been pristine when Richard left the previous evening. “Spend the night elsewhere?”
In his sleep-deprived state, Richard couldn’t tell if it was amusement or disbelief lifting his father’s brow. “I suppose you could say that. Though, is it considered spending the night if one never actually goes to sleep?” Of course, a bed
was
involved, so the argument could be made in either direction.
The marquis shook his head. “Do you know, pondering that sort of philosophical question rarely seems to fill my time these days?”
“And here I thought you were returning from a night of revelry as well. Don’t tell me you’ve awoken on purpose this early in the morning.” Country hours were for milkmaids and particularly ill-mannered roosters, not marquises.
“Eight o’clock is hardly early. I’ve already had my morning ride, and was just on my way to my study. It won’t be long before the clamor of preparations for tonight’s ball makes concentration impossible.”
“Ah, the ball. I almost forgot. I’d best get some rest while the opportunity still exists.” It was
almost
worth leasing a new set of rooms while his family was here for the Season. The house never seemed to be quiet anymore, save for the middle of the night. And really, what good did that do him? He was rarely home that time of night.
The marquis nodded in agreement. “Yes, you do that. You rather look like hell, and your mother would be none too pleased if you scared off all the eligible debutantes she so carefully selected for you.”
He should be so lucky. “What a tragedy that would be.”
“There are worse things in life than a mother who cares and would like to see you happily wed.”
Richard quirked an eyebrow. “Only just. All right—rest for me, then. I need to be in top form when Mother’s handpicked debutantes descend on the house tonight.”
The murmur of voices carried from the stairway, and within moments his mother and three youngest sisters appeared. Damn—there was no way he could escape into his chambers without acknowledging them now. Not that he didn’t adore them. He simply did not want to be trapped by their feminine zeal, which from the sound of things was already in full effect.
His father slipped past him, murmuring good-mornings as he escaped to his study. Richard, of course, had no such escape plan. As luck would have it, the girls merely called out their greetings as they passed on their way to the drawing room. He actually thought he might get away unscathed when his mother headed right for him.
“Oh, Richard, thank goodness you’re up.” She paused in her approach, her eyebrow lifting in distaste as she eyed the state of his clothes. “Or are you? Did you sleep in those clothes?”
“Of course not.” It was the God’s honest truth. He didn’t, however, mention that they had spent a good part of the evening rumpled on the floor. “Was there something you needed?”