How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back

by Barnes, Sophie

  As Adrian hurried away, pulling a stumbling Kate after him, Emily watched them go. Something about it didn’t sit well with her, though she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. She shook away her misgivings.

  It’s just a dance.

  When she turned, she spotted a momentary look of regret upon Lady Carroway’s face, and then it was gone.

  “Come, my dear.” Lady Carroway pulled her along but said nothing more. It was clear that her thoughts were on something else entirely.

  When they joined her sisters again, Claire could barely contain her curiosity. “Why is Adrian dancing with Kate instead of with you?” she whispered.

  “I wasn’t here when he asked her,” Emily explained. “Adrian had already offered to dance with Kate before I arrived, and it really would have been badly done if he didn’t honor his prior engagement.” It was a simple explanation, yet something about the whole exchange still bothered her.

  “He should have waited.” Lady Carroway’s voice was filled with irritation. “He should have waited and danced with you first. I’m sorry about this, Emily; it’s terribly rude of him.”

  Emily wasn’t one to get too caught up in etiquette. She merely shrugged. Why did it matter whom Adrian danced with? They were all friends after all, and Kate had known him just as long as she had. Emily had never been the jealous type, and she was determined not to start now. On the contrary, it pleased her to know that her two dearest friends could get along.

  At least, that’s what she told herself.

  Her thoughts came tumbling to the ground when she felt a sharp nudge in her ribs. It was Claire. “Emily,” she whispered. “Lord Dunhurst is asking you if you would like to dance the next set with him. He is still waiting for your reply.”

  It was all too familiar to her. She had always had a tendency to daydream. As a child, her tutors had sometimes had to tap her shoulder with a ruler to bring her back to reality. At such moments it always seemed as if she had been absent for far longer than was probably the case. She now looked flustered as she noticed Francis standing before her, an eyebrow raised as he awaited her answer.

  “Please excuse me,” she told him with a faint smile. “But I must regretfully decline as I shall be dancing the next set with Mr. Fairchild.”

  She couldn’t help but notice a brief flicker of annoyance pass behind his eyes. It did nothing but aggravate her.

  “In that case, I shall disturb you no longer,” he said as he took his leave and walked away, his eyes dark and his jaw clenched tightly shut.

  Emily followed him with her eyes as she let out a deep sigh of relief. Why did he always have this effect on her? She wondered. There was just something about him that she found to be rather unpleasant. She turned toward her sisters. “He makes me feel most uncomfortable,” she noted.

  “You were rather cold toward him, Emily,” Beatrice told her. “In fact, I daresay you were quite rude.”

  “I with him? Is he not the one who never manages to smile? And how rude of him not to invite one of you to dance after I informed him that I’d be dancing with Adrian.”

  “Honestly, Emily, he was really quite polite in asking you. Perhaps he noticed the look of disappointment on your face when Adrian chose to dance with Kate instead. There’s no need denying it—you did look rather put-out, though you made a brave attempt not to. So if you ask me, I think Francis was rather thoughtful and kind when he asked you. Naturally he would not ask anyone else once you had so flatly refused him.”

  Emily had seen no such thing. Was Beatrice right? But why would Francis ask her to dance anyway? It was no secret that he disliked her company. Perhaps Beatrice was right. Perhaps he’d merely been trying to help. Emily sighed once again. She suddenly felt as if she had wronged him in some way.

  Perhaps she ought to apologize.

  But the next thing she knew, Kate and Adrian had returned, both talking amidst bursts of laughter as they walked up to her.

  “You appear to have been enjoying yourselves immensely,” Lady Carroway observed with a strained smile.

  Kate looked suddenly flushed. There was that embarrassment again.

  “We have been, indeed,” Adrian said. “Now, dear Emily, I do believe that it is your turn.”

  Emily couldn’t conceal her happiness as he took her by the arm and led her toward the dance floor. From behind her, she could hear Claire making a quiet remark, which was swiftly followed by a string of giggles. She was confident that a joke had just been made at her expense, but all she could do was smile at it. This truly was the best night ever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As Emily and Adrian faced one another across the dance floor, she knew that she had never felt happier. How handsome he looked, all dressed in black and white—so elegant. She felt her heart skip a beat. And when he gave her that winning smile of his, it all but took her breath away.

  And yet it was as if he wasn’t quite present. It seemed as if something was distracting him. Of course it was, she thought. Marriage and marriage proposals were a serious business. He was probably trying to decide on the best way in which to broach the topic.

  As the music started up, they stepped lightly toward one another, meeting for a brief moment in the middle of the floor, hands barely touching, before stepping apart once more. When they met again, they turned quickly about, his hand resting ever so gently upon her waist. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he told her.

  Her heart leapt with joy at those reassuring words. “As I have you,” she assured him.

  “I would like an opportunity to speak with you . . . in private,” he whispered. “Once this dance has ended.”

  Her stomach fluttered. He intended to ask her tonight after all. She was suddenly rendered speechless, her nerves playing havoc with her body. She simply nodded in agreement.

  As the music faded, he grasped her hand in his and pulled her along with him, away from the crowded ballroom, through French doors that had been flung open and outside onto a terrace overlooking the garden.

  The air was sweet with a faint scent of jasmine as they paused here momentarily. Adrian squeezed her hand lightly as he glanced about. Nobody else was out here. Everyone was inside enjoying the festivities.

  Spotting a low bench, he dragged her toward it. She sat down immediately, gracefully, and expectantly as he took the seat next to her, still holding her hand in his.

  “How long have we been friends, Emily?”

  “Since the beginning of time.” She managed to keep her tone even, though it was barely louder than a whisper.

  “I’ve decided to marry,” he told her abruptly.

  Emily caught her breath as tears of joy began to gather in her eyes. Finally!

  “I realize it may come as a surprise to you, though it shouldn’t really. I’ve always said that I wanted to marry before I turned thirty. I know that there is plenty of time yet—for as you know, I am but seven and twenty—but it seems so right, Emily.”

  “Does it?” she asked faintly, her heart beating so erratically she could barely concentrate on what he was telling her.

  “You and I have always been close. That’s why I want you to be the first to know . . . I’ve asked Kate to be my wife.”

  Everything slowed to a halt, and her heart felt like it had suddenly stopped. She sat perfectly still, motionless as if she were frozen in time. Had she heard him right? Had the man she’d been in love with for all eternity just told her he would marry her friend? Not her, but Kate?

  “I saw her in London, while she was there visiting her aunt and uncle . . .” Adrian was saying, but Emily had stopped listening.

  She looked down at her hands. He was still holding them in his. How quickly the significance of his touch had altered. No more than a second ago, she had taken it to be a sign of his love for her. Now, she saw it for what it was: one friend reaching out to another for approval. She felt her heart beat once and then again as her throat tightened and her eyes began to burn. How could she have bee
n so naïve as to think that he would ever have considered making her his wife?

  She was suddenly acutely aware of everything. It was unbearably clear that there had been no understanding after all. In all likelihood he didn’t even recall the conversation they’d had six years ago. “I’m not ready for marriage yet,” he’d said. “But when I will be, there’s nobody I’d rather marry than you, my dearest friend.”

  He had kissed her gently that day, beneath the cherry blossoms behind her cottage. It now dawned on her that he had done it all on a whim. He might have meant what he’d said for the briefest of moments, but that was all it had been to him. To her however . . . her heart was breaking apart, piece by piece, at an agonizingly slow pace.

  She had to get away from him with her dignity still intact. He mustn’t see her unravel as she knew she was about to. It was enough of a humiliation that the entire town would soon know that she was not to be his bride. Not now, not ever, even though that was what everyone had thought. That was what everyone had told her. And she had believed them. . . . She had hoped. . . . Oh God, what a fool she had been.

  Very slowly, as if worried that a sudden movement might cause her to shatter, she withdrew her hand. She then raised her eyes to meet his and gave him the most dazzling smile that she could muster. Then, fighting against the pain in her throat, she did her best to speak in a smooth, calm voice. “I am so happy for you, Adrian. You have made a wonderful choice in Kate, and I just know that she will make a brilliant wife. You are really very well suited for one another.”

  “So you approve? I’m so relieved. You have no idea how nervous I was about telling you. Your opinion matters more to me than anyone else’s. Thank you, Emily—you really are a true friend,” he told her sincerely. “I knew I could count on you for support.”

  Was this a nightmare? Emily wondered. Would she wake up any minute to find that it had all been nothing but a dream? That the gut-wrenching sadness she felt right now was unfounded? No, this was not a dream. She was in fact sitting here, telling the man she loved more than life itself that he had her blessing to marry somebody else.

  You are a true friend. The words echoed in her mind, viciously stabbing at her heart.

  “Are you all right?” she heard him ask.

  Panic spread erratically throughout her body. How much longer could she maintain her composure? Already the tears were welling in her eyes. Emily was thankful for the darkness of night that masked her true emotions. She nodded vigorously in response to his question, then managed to choke out, “Yes, I’m fine. Like I said, I wish both of you the best, Adrian.” Rising to her feet, she steadied herself, willing herself to remain calm for a moment longer. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye? What the devil . . . where are you going, Emily? Are you quite sure you’re all right? You’re not ill, are you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I think I’m about to be quite ill indeed,” she told him sharply, her pain transforming into anger. How could he pretend to be so ignorant of her feelings? How could he act as though he hadn’t the faintest idea of how she felt about him? It suddenly infuriated her that he had been so careless, so selfish, and so unfeeling. It wasn’t like him . . . or was it? Had she just not seen how thoughtless he could be?

  “I have to go, Adrian—I’m sorry. Please excuse me.” Snatching her hand away from his, she fled, her mind set only on getting away from him, Kate, and the rest of Hardington’s inhabitants.

  Adrian watched as she ran down the steps and disappeared into the garden. He wondered for a moment if he should run after her. After all, she had said that she was feeling ill. Then again, for whatever reason, it seemed as if she wanted to be alone. He got up slowly, his eyes unwillingly searching for her in the darkness, but she was gone.

  As he walked back inside, light notes of music floated out to greet him. He studied the ballroom for a moment, looking for Kate. Instead he located his mother and Emily’s sisters, who appeared to be deep in conversation with one another.

  “Ladies,” he greeted them, interrupting their conversation. “I merely wish to inform you that Emily appears to have taken ill. She wished to be alone for a while and, well . . . in fact, I believe she may have gone home.”

  “Dear God, Adrian!” his mother exclaimed. “And you let her leave, just like that? You should have offered her a carriage.”

  “I would have, Mother,” he said, his voice betraying his annoyance. “However, she hurried off before I had the chance to suggest it.”

  “And why was that, Adrian?” Lady Carroway asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied her son.

  “How the devil should I know?”

  “You mean to tell me that you didn’t even ask her why she was suddenly unwell? After all, she was fine before she left to dance with you. In fact, she was radiant . . . no sign of impending illness whatsoever. What did you tell her, Adrian?”

  Adrian held his mother’s gaze. “Just that I have asked Kate to marry me. I wanted her to be the first to know,” he said as all three women drew sharp breaths and stared at him in horror. “She congratulated me and wished me well, as unlike you—as it is becoming increasingly clear—I know that I can always count on her for support.”

  “You’re a damn fool, Adrian,” his mother snapped. “Beatrice and Claire, I must apologize for my son’s obvious lack of tact. Come quickly . . . we must find Francis. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Perhaps I could . . .”

  “Thank you, but I do believe that you’ve done quite enough.” Without offering her son another word, Lady Carroway turned on her heel and hurried off. Only Beatrice managed a quick goodbye, though her eyes now seemed to be filled with anything but compassion for him.

  What the hell is going on?

  Adrian watched them go. He’d be damned if he ever understood what went on in women’s brains. It all seemed to be one big muddle to him. With an exasperated sigh he glanced around once more in search of Kate. Finding her, he picked up a glass of wine from a tray held by a waiter, then made his way over to where she was standing.

  They spotted Francis in the card room, where he was having a friendly game of bridge together with Lord Hutton, Mr. Birkley, and Lord Carroway, the latter being his partner. Lady Carroway quietly requested that Claire and Beatrice wait for her by the door. She then approached her husband.

  Beatrice and Claire watched Lord Carroway’s reaction as his wife spoke to him, her voice but a whisper, close to his ear. As she straightened, he ran a hand through his hair. He made no attempt to hide his obvious concern as he threw his cards down onto the table. “Gentlemen, it appears that we are done here. Lord Dunhurst, please go with my wife. There seems to be a pressing matter that needs your immediate attention. . . . She will explain it to you.”

  Without the slightest display of emotion, Francis finished the remainder of his cognac. He then rose to his feet, gave a polite nod to his companions, and followed Lady Carroway from the room.

  “How may I be of service?” he asked. He had followed the women into the parlor, where they had each taken a seat. He had remained standing, his elbow resting against the mantle of the fireplace. The three women clearly looked disturbed by something. He couldn’t help but wonder what it might be, though he was sure that he was about to find out.

  “I’m terribly sorry to trouble you with this, Francis, but it’s a delicate matter that needs handling with some care,” Lady Carroway began.

  “Emily’s run off,” Beatrice blurted out, her voice filled with distress. Lady Carroway placed a staying hand upon her arm, held her gaze for a moment, and then turned once again toward Francis.

  He appeared unmoved by the information, save for a slightly raised eyebrow. “Why does that worry you?” he asked. “She may have been tired and decided to leave early. Perhaps she simply wished to get some fresh air and will be back at any moment.”

  Beatrice’s eyes ignited with fury. “How can you treat the situation so lightly, sir? Clearly we would not have troubled you unless we ha
d good reason to.”

  “My apologies, Miss Rutherford, but given the fact that your sister is to be engaged to Adrian—I’m not completely oblivious to the goings on around here, you know,” he said as he saw that his aunt was about to protest. “Would it not be more fitting if you asked him to ride about in search of her? Besides, if she is seeking some time alone, I very much doubt that I would be a welcome companion for her.”

  Beatrice’s first reaction was to retaliate, but she knew that he was probably right. He would be very unwelcome indeed. However, it was late and the sky was already showing signs of rain. She knew how devastated Emily must be, and she couldn’t help but worry about her being out there on her own, even if she was on her way home.

  “The situation is as follows,” Lady Carroway said. “It appears that Adrian has misled us all as far as his true intentions are concerned, though I cannot believe that he would do something like this without a word of warning to any of us. But apparently he has already proposed to Kate and has just asked Emily for her blessing.” Francis’s eyes seemed to darken, his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “My son, it seems, never felt anything more than friendship for Emily, but what is truly astounding is how ignorant he seems to be of her feelings toward him. I just don’t understand how we could have been so wrong in our assumptions. And I cannot imagine why Kate’s father has not broached this subject with my husband. I must speak to him and Adrian about this, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that Emily became ill, so to speak, and ran off as a result of Adrian’s desire to share the delightful news with her.”

  “I take it she did not find it so delightful,” Francis murmured, his face set in stone.

  “Indeed, we may be quite certain that she did not,” Beatrice said, her voice filled with resentment. Then in a more agreeable tone she added, “We would be forever grateful if you would please find her, my lord.”