How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back (26 page)

It was then, at that very moment that Charlotte decided to find out what Francis’s relationship with Emily Rutherford actually was. If he had mistreated the girl or perhaps given her false hopes in any way, then perhaps she could use it to her advantage—after all, Emily Rutherford was a poor woman . . . surely she’d enjoy the prospect of taking what she could get from Francis, particularly if something made her angry enough to cloud her judgment.

Weak people were always susceptible to persuasion. And as far as Charlotte could tell, Emily Rutherford was a very weak woman indeed.

An idea began to emerge inside her head. Clearly Emily was terrified of Francis abandoning her. But if Charlotte could somehow help Emily salvage her relationship with Francis . . . if she could somehow guarantee that Francis would propose to her . . . Emily would be indebted to her forever.

A slow, deliberate smirk slid its way across Charlotte’s lips. She needed a means by which to gain access to Dunhurst Park and retrieve what was rightfully hers. Perhaps this Rutherford woman would prove to be her golden ticket . . . the ally that she required to get back inside the mansion. She would have to speak to her as soon as possible, she decided.

L
ord Farringale helped Emily outside, directing her toward a bench where he urged her to sit down. “The fresh air will do you good, Miss Rutherford,” he told her. “Would you like me to fetch you a glass of water?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, then yes, I would greatly appreciate that.”

He left her instantly to find the large decanter of ice water that stood on the refreshment table. Returning with a glass in hand, he found his path blocked by Charlotte. “Miss Browne. How do you do?”

“Quite well. Quite well indeed,” she replied with a sweet smile. “I thought perhaps I might take Miss Rutherford off your hands.”

“I . . .”

“She is clearly unwell and in need of a woman’s touch. Why don’t you run along and enjoy the party instead?”

“But Lord Dunhurst . . .”

“Will be most relieved to have a lady tending to her rather than the most notorious flirt in all of London.” She tilted her head and gave him the most convincing smile she could muster. “Really, I insist.”

“Very well then, by all means,” he said, handing her the glass of water.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

“M
iss Rutherford?”

The words were softly spoken—almost a whisper—yet Emily found herself startled by them all the same. She’d been thinking about the task that lay ahead of her, attempting to regain her composure. It simply wouldn’t do to fall apart in front of Charlotte. Somehow she would have to find the means by which to play her part—her happiness with Francis depended upon it. Now, looking up, her eyes met those of a woman who appeared to be quite beautiful in spite of her age. In fact, her skin was still fairly smooth—it was only the crow’s feet and the occasional dash of gray in her otherwise light brown hair that betrayed her. Her eyes were kind and her smile pleasant. Emily couldn’t help but like her immediately.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the woman told her, handing her a glass of water and sitting down next to her on the bench. “My name is Charlotte Browne.”

Heat rushed down Emily’s back at the sound of that name, her skin suddenly prickling with edginess. She was thankful for the darkness that would hopefully mask the stunned look upon her face.

Remaining perfectly still, she made a stoic attempt to relax and calm herself. “I’m Emily Rutherford,” she heard herself say—her voice far cooler than she felt.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know who I am?”

Emily merely shook her head, worried her anxiety would be plain in any words she spoke. The moment had come, and she would not forgive herself for making a mess of it. No, she would just have to get a hold of herself and manage to get through it . . . somehow. Indeed, she was fortunate that Charlotte had approached her in the first place, for it was less likely to make her suspicious than if Emily had sought to befriend
her
, as had been their initial plan.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you arrived together with Lord Dunhurst. You are his guest, are you not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, I used to be a close friend of his parents. I’ve known Francis all his life, in fact. He’s a good man at heart, though it seems he has been through some difficult years following his mother’s death.” Charlotte feigned a look of such sadness that Emily could not stop her own heart from clenching or the tears from forming behind her eyes.

If this woman truly was as horrid as Francis had described her, then she was far more dangerous than Emily had thought. She was a master at sympathizing and at being empathetic. What a supreme performer . . . so genuine and natural. Emily cautioned herself not to fall under her spell. She had known her for only a brief moment while Francis had known her his whole life. She would trust that what he told her about Charlotte was true, and she would do whatever she could to help him be rid of her forever. She braced herself before charging ahead—the battle of wits was on, and there was no longer any going back. If Charlotte discovered her true intentions . . . she dared not think of what a woman like Charlotte might do to those who betrayed her trust.

“Yes, I believe it very nearly destroyed him.”

“But not completely, I take it?”

“Time will tell.” Emily said no more. She did not wish to rush or seem too eager. Trust was something that was gained with time.

“I hope you don’t mind that I—instead of Lord Farringale—brought you the water.”

“Not at all,” Emily replied. “To be honest, I don’t know him that well—I’ve no idea what we might have talked about and I do so hate uncomfortable silences.”

“My sentiment exactly. Besides, I could not help but notice that you looked distressed earlier. I thought perhaps you might like to talk about . . . whatever’s bothering you.” Charlotte’s eyes met Emily’s.

What was she getting at, Emily wondered. It seemed as if she was digging for something . . . but for what?

“It was nothing,” she said after a moment’s silence. She wished to add to Charlotte’s curiosity as well as to satisfy her own. Hopefully her dismissive response would cause Charlotte to press the issue.

“Has he wronged you in any way?”

So that was it. Charlotte wanted to know about her relationship with Francis; did she love him or . . . “I thought perhaps . . .” Emily sighed deeply, then brushed at her eyes as if to remove the onset of tears. “I’m sorry, Miss Browne. How utterly inappropriate of me to burden you with my personal affairs. We barely know one another.”

Charlotte gave her the most compassionate of all smiles. It was clear to Emily that her little performance had wetted Charlotte’s appetite and she’d grown eager to find out more. “Sometimes it can be easier to confess your troubles to a stranger. I shall not judge you. On the contrary, I shall offer to advise you on the matter if you so desire.”

Emily paused, pretending to hesitate with a sense of uncertainty. “I do not wish to betray his trust, but I cannot . . . oh, it’s a terrible mess!” And without knowing how she managed it, Emily began to cry with genuine heaving sobs that shook her shoulders.

“Dear me, Miss Rutherford. Whatever is the matter?” Charlotte said as she put her arm around Emily to comfort her.

Emily wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I thought he felt the same about me as I do about him,” she sniffed.

“There, there now. Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

Emily paused, allowing time for rising suspense. “He told me we would marry, that it did not matter if we waited until after the wedding or not . . . we were betrothed, and . . . oh God,” Emily drew a trembling breath. “I’ve been such a fool.”

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “And here I was, thinking that I might be able to help the two of you resolve your issues . . . I’m so sorry, Miss Rutherford,” she said, squeezing her shoulder ever so slightly. “It seems the young buck has robbed you of the only thing you had to offer a potential husband.”

Emily stiffened—something which Charlotte surely took to be an appropriate response to what she’d just said. But the truth was that Emily was shocked by her callousness.
The only thing you had to offer.
Charlotte had in one swift move removed any illusions that she might have about somebody actually loving her for her. That is, she probably would have done so, had Emily not known her true nature. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that Charlotte was up to something. Her best move, she reasoned, was to remain quiet and wait for her to continue.

“You must be devastated. To think how carelessly he used you without ever intending to do right by you.” Charlotte shook her head with sadness.

“I just don’t understand why he would do such a thing.”

“It’s quite simple, my dear. You struck his fancy, he decided to have you by any means necessary, and once he was done, he went back on his word—hardly the mark of an honorable man. In fact, it sickens me to see situations such as this happening time and time again. You must not blame yourself, Miss Rutherford, for I am certain that the fault lies entirely with him. How upsetting it is, though, that men continue at this game without giving us women the respect that we deserve.”

“Do you mean to tell me that my . . . ah . . . situation is not unique?” Emily asked with a hint of surprise. She was beginning to see Charlotte’s plan unfold, and she could not help but marvel at her shrewdness.

Charlotte chuckled slightly. “Far from it, unfortunately.” Her voice grew serious once again. “If only there was something that could be done about it.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I daresay that an example ought to be made of one of these men.” She fixed Emily with her clear blue eyes, and that was when Emily saw the malice that Charlotte had so artfully hidden until that very moment when the taste of victory had brought it to the surface. It was so repellent that Emily could not stop the gasp that escaped her. Luckily, Charlotte was too caught-up to notice.

Emily took a slow, steady breath. “And you think that man ought to be Francis?”

“Don’t you think he deserves it after what he’s done to you?”

Emily paused, appearing as though she pondered the question. She believed that everybody ought to have the chance to prove themselves, and though Emily did trust Francis’s opinion, and Charlotte was beginning to show her true colors to some degree, Emily still hoped she wasn’t quite as bad as she feared. “Wouldn’t it pain you to see him suffer?”
After all, he’s your son.

“Why? Because I’ve known him all his life? My dear Miss Rutherford, he has wronged you most severely and ought to be punished for it, though I must admit—I never took him for the sort of man who’d ruin a sweet young woman such as yourself. Apparently I have misjudged him.” She paused for a moment. “He and I have never been very close, you know. In fact, our relationship has been rather strained of late, but that’s a private matter. Let us not stray from the main issue, however—an opportunity has presented itself and I think it would be wise of you to take it.”

Wise of you to take it.
Emily could not help but consider how manipulative this woman was, counting on the fact that she would jump at the opportunity to make a
wise
decision following her supposedly foolhardy one. But Emily had been stunned by what Charlotte had said. She’d made it quite clear that she didn’t care about what happened to Francis. Not one teensy weensy tiny little bit. On the contrary, she wished him ill—
her own son
. It was unthinkable to Emily that such a woman existed, more so that she was sitting there quietly speaking to her. Emily felt the anger rise within her, an anger so fierce that her eyes darkened and her jaw clenched.

“Perhaps,” Emily replied cautiously, from behind gritted teeth, as she quietly gauged her reaction.

“I know of a letter that would be devastating to Francis if its existence was to be made publically known.

“Your suggestion is to blackmail him?”

A slight smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips. “It’s sometimes necessary.”

Emily’s eyes widened in dismay. Had the woman no shame?

“I don’t quite see . . .”

“The thing of it is . . . his father and I developed a tendre for one another after his mother passed away. It was so tragic the way she . . .” A small sniff and a dab at her eyes completed the performance. “Francis’s father and I loved each other very much. We made promises to one another, and when he died . . . I know he left an inheritance for me, but Francis has done everything in his power to prevent me from getting my hands on it.”

Emily could scarcely believe what she was hearing. This woman, who considered another woman to be the mother of her child, sat here and spoke of love. There was no doubt that she was a slippery snake who’d managed to blind Francis’s father with her charms.

“But if it’s in the will, then surely . . .” Emily’s face looked clearly puzzled.

Charlotte looked more distressed than ever. “That’s just it, I’m afraid. You see, George never put it in the will. He made a separate amendment so that Francis would be sure never to find out until after he was gone.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t trust his son?”

“No. He knew Francis didn’t approve of me. But if I could only find the amendment . . .”

“Do you have any idea of where it might be?” Emily asked, purposefully taking the bait.

Charlotte gave her a weak smile. “Yes, but I’ll never manage to get my hands on it. Unless . . .”

“Unless . . . ?”

She shook her head. “Forget I said anything. It was a silly idea, really.”

Oh, she’s good . . . really good.
Emily placed a gentle hand on Charlotte’s arm. “What he did to me . . .” She clenched her jaw, her eyes deliberately misting over once more. “If there’s any way in which I might be able to help you . . .”

Charlotte stared back at her for a long moment. “Francis won’t let me back inside Dunhurst Park . . . that’s where the amendment is. Help me get in so I can find it and . . .”

Emily waited patiently for her to continue.

“And I’ll help you destroy Francis.”

“How?” was all Emily could think to ask.

“Years ago, I decided that, should I happen to fall on hard times, I might need some leverage to help me back on my feet. So I wrote a statement outlining the truth about Francis’s birthright—a truth which would cast absolute scandal upon him if it became publically known.” She gave Emily a reassuring smile. “If you help me, then I’ll give you that letter, to do with as you please.”

“There’s just one problem with your plan.” Emily looked quite perplexed. “How am I to gain access to Dunhurst Park? Francis and I aren’t married . . . I doubt we ever will be, and now that the season is over . . . I believe he’ll expect me to return to Hardington with my sisters.”

Charlotte took Emily’s hand and squeezed it slightly. “If you use your feminine wiles, I’m sure he’ll take you with him back to Dunhurst Park.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Charlotte chuckled at Emily’s apparent innocence. “Let him think that he can enjoy you for a while—without the complications of marriage.”

Emily gasped with shock. “I couldn’t possibly,” she stammered. “Besides, it doesn’t seem right. I’ve never done something like that and I can’t help but feel as though I’m betraying him. Worse than that, it wouldn’t be moral to do such a thing.”