How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back (30 page)
Read How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back Online
Authors: Sophie Barnes
“Hmmm . . . perhaps in her eagerness to wish you ill, she simply failed to notice,” Emily said thoughtfully. “In any event I’m just glad that she’s finally out of our lives.”
“Me, too.”
I
t was five days since Emily had been shot, and with just over a week remaining until Claire and Richard were to wed, everyone was kept busy with the preparations. They wanted a small, private function, so when Francis had suggested that they use the chapel on his estate, they had immediately agreed.
The weather was still pleasant, and they all hoped that it would hold for the big day.
It was late afternoon, and Francis had asked Parker to bring some refreshments out into the garden.
“How do you feel?” Beatrice asked Emily as they all sat gathered around a wrought-iron table.
“Much better; I can move my arm now without it paining me to do so.”
Francis took her hand and squeezed it. “She’ll be fully recovered in another week—just in time for the wedding.”
Claire smiled as she watched her older sister. She looked so happy and content. She never would have believed that Emily would find the kind of love she’d always hoped for with Francis Riley. “So, when do the two of you plan to marry?”
“Claire!” Beatrice exclaimed. “Why do you always have to be so forward?”
Claire chuckled. “Honestly, Bea, sometimes even you surprise me. Look at them. It’s obvious that they’re head over heels in love with one another, so it’s really only a matter of time. In fact, I’m certain that Francis has already proposed.”
Emily smiled as she looked over at Francis, and then her smile broadened until both Claire and Beatrice realized that they were clearly missing something. “What is it?” Claire asked impatiently.
“Well, as a matter of fact . . .” Emily giggled. “We’re already married.”
Complete silence followed. In fact, nobody would have been more shocked if King George himself had just strolled by.
“What?” Beatrice managed to ask, her face filled with confusion. “When?”
“When Francis rescued me from Edward’s clutches.” Emily told them, relieved to finally share the happiest moment of her life with the rest of her family. “We were married that same evening—in the very chapel that’s now being readied for the two of you.” She looked toward Richard and Claire, who both stared back at her with unfeigned surprise.
“But why the secrecy? For heaven’s sake, Emily, of all the things . . . don’t you know how much we would have liked to be there?” Beatrice didn’t look as disappointed as Emily had feared, but she
did
look as if she didn’t quite know what to make of it all.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Francis said as he came to his wife’s defense. “We meant to tell you immediately after, but then Emily devised the plan to ensnare Charlotte, and we thought it best if we kept it a secret until Charlotte had been dealt with.” He gave a sidelong glance at Emily and when she nodded encouragingly, he continued. “We thought we’d have another wedding later—one where you would all be able to attend.”
“I have just the thing!” Claire exclaimed as she clutched Richard’s hand to show a united front. “We’ll have a double wedding!”
“Well, I . . . I don’t want to impose on your special day, Claire,” Emily said.
“Why, that’s nonsense,” Claire remarked. “Don’t you agree, Richard?”
“I, errr . . . I didn’t realize I had a say in the matter.”
“Well, I do wish you would at least pretend that you do, for the sake of appearances,” Claire chuckled jokingly as she kissed her fiancé tenderly on the cheek.
“What say you, Dunhurst?” Richard asked in the hopes of diverting the attention away from himself.
Francis saw his intent and favored Richard with a scowl. “I have no desire to get myself tangled up in this conversation. I shall leave it up to the ladies to decide.”
“It’s settled then,” Claire exclaimed. “Unless of course you’d rather have your own ceremony, Emily?”
“I already did,” Emily reminded her before turning to Francis for reassurance. He shrugged his shoulders to let her know that the decision was up to her. “I think a double wedding would be a wonderful idea, Claire.”
Claire immediately rushed out of her seat to hug her sister, who laughed in return. “We’ll have very little time in which to have your gown made,” Claire stated, her mind already brimming with ideas of how to go about the necessary preparations. And we’ll have to send out invitations immediately to anyone that you might like to attend.”
“Do you know,” Emily said thoughtfully. “I believe that Mrs. Hughes would be thrilled to receive an invitation. I shall write to the old dear straight away. And, then of course, we simply must invite the Fairchilds. . . . Dear me . . . there really is a lot to see to all of a sudden.”
“Actually, I already invited them,” Claire told her as she bit her bottom lip. “I invited Kate and Adrian, too. I meant to ask for your opinion first, but then you got shot, and . . . I’m sorry, Emily—I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Emily told her sister as she hugged her yet again. “In fact, I think it would be nice to have the opportunity to thank her.”
“Thank her?” Francis asked incredulously. “She and Adrian broke your heart, Emily, and may I remind you that it was because of Kate that you ran straight to Edward.” His voice grew angry as he reminded himself of what Emily had been through.
“Don’t you see, Francis? If it hadn’t been for Kate, then you and I might never have realized how we felt about each other.” She wrapped her arms around him. “As for telling me that Charlotte was your mistress . . . well, I do believe that she had my best interest at heart and hoped to warn me.”
“Still, she should have come to me first.”
Emily sighed. “We all make mistakes, Francis. I think it’s important to look at the reasoning behind it, and in this case, I do believe that the mistake is forgivable.”
“So if I were to take somebody’s life because I ‘mistakenly’ believed that they intended to take mine . . . should I not be made to pay for it?”
Emily rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help from smiling. “That is not only an exaggerated, but also a completely unrealistic example, and you know it.”
Francis shrugged. “Sometimes it’s necessary to exaggerate in order to make a point.”
“Francis Riley, I do believe you’re trying to wind me up.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is it working?”
She refused to take the bait and rather looked at him as blankly as she could manage. “Not at all,” she said.
“Then I have no choice but to . . .”
“Might I interrupt?” Beatrice asked.
Emily and Francis turned to her apologetically. They had been so carried away that they’d forgotten that they weren’t alone. “Please excuse us,” Emily said.
“By all means.” Beatrice looked genuinely amused, but her expression soon turned serious. “It’s just that . . . well, with all the excitement, I haven’t yet had the chance to tell you that Mr. Rosedale has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted.”
Claire and Emily both responded with a simultaneous, ear-deafening squeak while their prospective husbands clasped their hands over their ears.
“A triple wedding!” Claire exclaimed with unparalleled excitement as she bounced up and down, clapping her hands together. “Oh, this is famous!”
Hugs and handshakes were quickly exchanged as they all congratulated one another.
“You certainly caught me by surprise there,” Francis told Jonathan with a wide grin. “I had no idea, although Emily did suggest that something might be in the works. But marriage? It seems we’ve all been leg-shackled.”
The men laughed as they supportively patted each other on the back. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were plotting this all along,” Richard remarked. They all turned to look at the women.
“Who says we didn’t?” Emily challenged before bursting into laughter along with her sisters at the befuddled looks on their fiancés’ faces.
Francis reached for Emily and pulled her toward him. “I do believe I’ll have to keep my eye on you,” he teased as he kissed her fully on the lips for all to see. “You’ve become far too candid for your own good.”
“Do you wish that I were less so?” She asked sweetly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Looking down at her, he favored her with a brilliant smile that instantly melted her heart. “Truthfully? No.” He kissed her again with increased passion. “You are perfect in every way, Emily, and I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
“I love you, too,” she said as tears of joy threatened to spill from her misty eyes.
He tightened his hold on her as he pressed his cheek against hers. “How many children would you like, Emily?” he whispered in her ear for only her to hear.
She pulled back so she could look him straight in the eye. “Lots and lots and lots,” she told him joyfully, her eyes overflowing with love for him.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked as he scooped her up in his arms and started toward the house. “We are husband and wife, after all.”
“But it’s midafternoon,” she giggled as she turned a pleading look toward her sisters.
“Don’t look to us for help,” Claire called after them. “We’re eagerly awaiting a hoard of nieces and nephews.”
“Traitors!” Emily shouted, her voice ringing with laughter.
“P
romise me that we’ll always have this much fun,” she told Francis as he opened the door to his bedroom.
“I promise, if you will promise that we’ll always love with as much passion as we do now.”
“Always.” And to prove it, she kissed him so thoroughly that all other thoughts abandoned both of them.
They savored that moment, for in and of itself, it held a promise for the bright and happy future that they had always dreamed of.
A
special thank you to my friend and fellow author, Julia Quinn, for pointing me in the right direction.
To my wonderful editor, Esi Sogah, who patiently chipped away at all the rough edges, helping the story shine.
To my wonderful family for their words of encouragement and for their enthusiasm about my books.
A big thank you to my mother-in-law, who introduced me to the wonderful world of Regency-period romances.
And to all of you who have read the story, or are about to read it, thank you.
Moorland Manor, 1810
B
ryce stood on the neatly trimmed lawn, his feet planted in a solid stance, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The wide stone building that constituted his home lay stretched out behind him with its neatly trimmed rose bushes lining its edges. Sir Percy stood at Bryce’s side, yet neither man uttered a word. Instead they listened, their eyes riveted upon the gentle swell of hills that rose from the meadow just beyond the property line.
Any minute now, Bryce thought to himself as he drew a deep breath of crisp afternoon air. It was only mid-October—no more than a month since he’d last sat outside in the still warm afternoon sun. The days had now grown chilly and were more often than not filled with cloudy skies and showers of rain. But today was an exception. Today was one of those magical fall days where the leaves turned fiery red beneath clear blue skies while the air bit at one’s cheeks.
Bryce cocked his head, and then he heard it—a faint rumble, off in the distance. He sensed that Percy must have heard it too, for it seemed as though his friend shifted almost imperceptibly by his side. “They’re coming,” Bryce told him.
Percy nodded, his eyes still fixed upon the hills in the distance.
Like the sound of approaching thunder, the drum of horses’ hooves rose through the air as the first rider peaked out from behind the crest of the first mound. Bryce held his breath as he squinted his eyes against the sun. “It’s William,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
Bryce nodded. “And here comes Ryan, right on his heels.”
Percy let out a sigh, and Bryce couldn’t help but notice the hint of disappointment in it. “Don’t worry,” he told his friend. “She hasn’t lost yet.”
Percy had always had a particular fondness for Bryce’s youngest child, Alexandra. When Penelope had died four years earlier and Bryce had been left to raise his children on his own, Percy had disagreed with his methods. Bryce was after all a man, completely ignorant of how to raise a young lady, and had decided to raise his daughter just as he would his sons. Being a military man, this had included nothing short of learning to handle weapons to perfection.
Percy had been appalled to find Alexandra wielding a sword during one of his visits and had made a good attempt at persuading Bryce to let the girl’s aunt take her under her wing. Eventually Bryce had agreed and Virginia had taken Alexandra to live with her.
Not a week had passed before Alexandra was back home again, having stolen a horse and ridden haphazardly through the night, returning to Moorland at dawn. She’d received a good scolding for her thoughtless behavior, just as she knew she would, but Bryce had never since suggested that she leave her home, and Percy had come to understand how wrong he’d been to suggest such a thing in the first place.
Over the years he’d warmed to the idea of a girl running around in shirts and trousers, handling weapons as well as any boy could. Perhaps it was because Alexandra was that girl, Percy mused as he finally spotted her in the distance. She never looked more comfortable than when she was tearing across a field on her horse or dueling with her brothers.
Come on, girl, you can do it,
he silently prayed.
“Quit holding your breath, old chap,” Bryce told him with a grin. “Just watch her now . . . here she comes.”
They watched in silent awe as Alexandra leaned forward against her horse’s neck and spurred her on with a “yah, yah,” that carried across the meadow. Her golden locks of hair streamed behind her in a wild frenzy of tangled curls as she leapt ahead of Ryan.
Dirt churned beneath the horse’s hooves as a flock of pigeons scattered in their path, the ground reverberating as they approached.
“Now watch this,” Bryce said with an edge of excitement as Alexandra rose from her saddle while her mount rose onto her hind legs in a jump that sent both horse and rider flying over the garden fence, passing William in mid-flight.
“She won,” Percy said, his voice but a whisper of disbelief. “Good God, she actually won!”
“I told you she would,” Bryce said with a proud smile as he gave his friend a hard slap across the back.
They watched as all three horsemen eased their mounts into a walk, patting them gently on their flanks to praise their efforts. “You don’t want to reconsider letting her train for a position with the Foreign Office?” Percy asked in a muted voice.
Bryce knit his brows in a disapproving glare. “You might as well suggest that I let her enroll in the army,” he growled.
“Come now—it’s nowhere near the same thing. The army is full of men . . .”
“And the Foreign Office isn’t?” Bryce arched a mocking eyebrow.
“Well, she needn’t be surrounded by them,” Percy told him defensively. “Besides, this is Alex we’re talking about. She can hold her own.”
“I know what she can do, Percy. I trained her.” They watched as the three youngsters dismounted, handing their reins over to the awaiting grooms. “But the Foreign Office is a dangerous place for a woman—especially for a stubborn woman with a mind of her own.”
Percy regarded his friend for a moment. “Do you regret the choices that you’ve made?”
Bryce let out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve no regrets about the way I’ve raised her, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s a strong girl and she’ll make a fine woman one day, but just because she can handle a sword as if she’d been born with it in her hand, doesn’t mean I’ll put her in harm’s way by encouraging her to live a reckless life.”
“I understand your reasoning, old friend, but it’s still a pity to let such talent go to waste.”
“Listen to me, Percy,” Bryce muttered from between gritted teeth. “I won’t have you putting any ideas in her head. Do you understand what I’m telling you? If you so much as . . .” He glanced toward his approaching children. “It won’t matter that we’ve known one another since we were in short pants—I’ll still beat the living daylight out of you.” He softened his tone when he noticed his friend’s pallor. “I understand that you’re actively looking for new recruits, but I’m asking you to please leave my Alex alone. This is not the kind of life I intended for her to have, regardless of her abilities.”
Percy acknowledged his friend’s wishes with a slow, pensive nod. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alexandra’s fate was entirely different from what her father truly wanted for her. Sometimes such things simply couldn’t be changed, no matter how much one might want them to—particularly not when the ball had already been set in motion. What Bryce was, in fact, completely and utterly unaware of was that Alexandra had already approached Percy on her own. She’d wanted to know what working for the Foreign Office might involve—whether it might appeal to her or not.
Knowing full well how Bryce might react at the thought of his daughter riding off on a potentially dangerous mission for king and country, Percy had tried his best to supply her with nothing but plain fact. But Alexandra was an adventurous girl with a desperate need to make her own way in the world, so she had swallowed every piece of information that he’d given her with unparalleled greed.
It was true that she was turning into a young woman before their very eyes, but as of yet, she had more in common with a musketeer than she did with any of the young ladies of her own age. For one thing, she never, ever wore a dress, and was therefore by default completely excluded from ever attending any function where she might succeed in meeting a potential husband. But what point would there be in that, anyway, when she had clearly declared on numerous occasions that she had no desire to ever marry.
Well, she was still young, Percy thought. In a few years’ time, her view on men was likely to change, and perhaps then—once she found the right man—she might do as her father hoped: settle down and start producing a hoard of babies.
It was at that very moment that Percy reached a decision. If in four years’ time, Alexandra was still voicing an interest about the Foreign Office, Percy would do his damnedest to help her follow her dream, because what Bryce didn’t seem to understand quite yet was that he was creating a woman who would one day have a very difficult time trying to find a place for herself in the world. She was different, and as fun as that might be right now while she still clung to her childhood, Percy sensed that it might one day be more of a curse than a blessing.
“I
can’t believe she beat us again,” Ryan grumbled as he came to stand across from his father.
“Face it, Ryan—I’m a much more accomplished equestrian than you,” Alexandra grinned as she sidled up next to her disgruntled brother, giving him a playful nudge in the ribs.
“Come now,” William remarked in a playful tone. “You only beat me by two yards . . . I’d hardly say that that’s a victory to brag about.”
Alexandra let out a perplexed sigh. “Whichever way you look at it, William, I still won and you still lost.” She poked a teasing finger in the middle of William’s chest.
“That she did,” Bryce concurred.
“But you must admit that she has a clear advantage,” William stated. He didn’t mind losing to his younger sibling, even if she was a girl. In fact, he was very proud of Alexandra’s achievements, but he didn’t want anyone to think that she’d won because she was more adept than he.
“Are you honestly going to hold my weight against me again?” she asked with feigned disbelief. “I can’t help it if I’m as light as a feather while the two of you are making your poor horses sag in the middle.”
Percy coughed into his closed fist as he tried to stifle the laugh that he felt rising in his throat. As agreeable as Ryan and William were about letting their sister compete against them, he wasn’t sure they’d appreciate being laughed at.
“Never you mind,” Bryce told his sons. “We all know that if it were a matter of fisticuffs, the two of you would win while Alexandra would most likely be beaten to a bloody pulp. She may be able to match you in certain things, but there are still those in which her gender simply can’t compete.”
Alexandra glared at her father, her blue eyes laced with frost. “There’s no disputing that you have a talent,” Bryce told her. “Just keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. Modesty is so much more becoming than haughtiness.”
“But I’m not . . .”
Bryce raised the palm of his hand to silence her. “Don’t argue with me, Alex. Just take it for what it is—a solid piece of advice that’s sure to earn respect.
“Now, how about some of Rosemary’s scones and a nice hot cup of tea?” Draping his arm around Alexandra’s shoulders and squeezing her against him, he started toward the house with William and Ryan at their sides. Percy followed at a distance, still wondering what the future might hold for Lord Summersby’s brood.
