Read Online How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back by Sophie Barnes - Free Book Online
Authors: Sophie Barnes
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a whisper. “Besides, I daresay you’d have little issue with the matter if it were Adrian rather than Francis who was living next-door with an adjoining doorway.”
Emily could say nothing to that, so Beatrice merely returned her attention to Francis. “So . . . when might we have the pleasure of meeting this aunt of yours?” she asked.
“I am certain Lady Genevieve will be with us shortly,” Francis said. Then, removing his hat and handing it to Parker, he ran his fingers through his thick hair, ruffling it slightly. Emily stared at him for a moment, stunned by the change in his appearance. Gone was his sleek and carefully groomed look that she had grown so used to. He still looked handsome, but in a roguish way that made her stomach flip as she sucked in a breath.
Shifting his gaze, his eyes locked onto hers, taking in the look of confusion on her face. Something drew her in—his dark eyes captivating—as a slight shiver ran down her spine. Narrowing his eyes, his expression seemed to change. Gone was the hostility, so that for the briefest of moments, he looked as if he understood her. Then, like a candle being snuffed, the moment was gone.
It was absurd. Of course it was. She could barely stomach Francis for more than a few minutes at a time.
A loud thump brought her back to full awareness. Turning slightly, she spotted an elderly woman with silver hair coming toward them at a crooked gait. Her frame was tiny, but her posture was perfectly straight, her head was held high, and her eyes were so piercing that she could very likely strike fear even in the most courageous of men. Had Francis really described her as lovely? Militant would be a more apt description.
“Aunt Genevieve,” Francis remarked with a slight bow. “How good of you to join us.”
Silence followed as Genevieve’s eyes slowly drifted from one face to another, scrutinizing each and every detail about all of them. When she was done, she nodded with great satisfaction, her slim lips widening into a warm smile that instantly lit up her face. The cool façade had completely vanished by the time she stepped forward to welcome the sisters. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, my dears,” she said. She cast a quick look at Francis. “I see now why my presence here is required, Francis. Shame on you for not telling me how pretty these ladies are.”
“Well, I didn’t think that . . .” Francis began, while Beatrice, Claire, and Emily, their faces quite flushed with embarrassment, performed a series of awkward curtsies.
“Tut, tut.” Genevieve wagged an admonishing finger at her nephew. She then leaned forward against her cane and served Beatrice the most inquisitive of stares. “When did you last eat?”
“I . . .” Beatrice glanced sideways at her two sisters. “I mean, we . . .”
“When?” Genevieve repeated, her eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“This morning, my lady.”
Genevieve leaned back a little. “Well, that really won’t do.” She turned to Francis. “These ladies are as skinny as my cane. You did well in bringing them here, though I daresay we’ll have our work cut out for us if we’re to fatten them up in time for the next ball.”
Francis couldn’t help but notice the look of despair on the sisters’ faces. He decided that it was time to jump to their rescue. “Aunt Genevieve, I really don’t think that . . .”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Francis,” Genevieve remarked. “But I really don’t give a rat’s bottom for what you think right now. If these ladies are to attract the proper attention, then it’s imperative that they show themselves off to their best advantage. Some ample bosoms are what we need—mark my word.”
A shocked silence followed.
It was Beatrice who eventually spoke. “I know that you have our best intentions at heart, my lady, but we didn’t come here in search of husbands. And even if we did, I would certainly hope that they’d be drawn
Emily could say nothing to that, so Beatrice merely returned her attention to Francis. “So . . . when might we have the pleasure of meeting this aunt of yours?” she asked.
“I am certain Lady Genevieve will be with us shortly,” Francis said. Then, removing his hat and handing it to Parker, he ran his fingers through his thick hair, ruffling it slightly. Emily stared at him for a moment, stunned by the change in his appearance. Gone was his sleek and carefully groomed look that she had grown so used to. He still looked handsome, but in a roguish way that made her stomach flip as she sucked in a breath.
Shifting his gaze, his eyes locked onto hers, taking in the look of confusion on her face. Something drew her in—his dark eyes captivating—as a slight shiver ran down her spine. Narrowing his eyes, his expression seemed to change. Gone was the hostility, so that for the briefest of moments, he looked as if he understood her. Then, like a candle being snuffed, the moment was gone.
It was absurd. Of course it was. She could barely stomach Francis for more than a few minutes at a time.
A loud thump brought her back to full awareness. Turning slightly, she spotted an elderly woman with silver hair coming toward them at a crooked gait. Her frame was tiny, but her posture was perfectly straight, her head was held high, and her eyes were so piercing that she could very likely strike fear even in the most courageous of men. Had Francis really described her as lovely? Militant would be a more apt description.
“Aunt Genevieve,” Francis remarked with a slight bow. “How good of you to join us.”
Silence followed as Genevieve’s eyes slowly drifted from one face to another, scrutinizing each and every detail about all of them. When she was done, she nodded with great satisfaction, her slim lips widening into a warm smile that instantly lit up her face. The cool façade had completely vanished by the time she stepped forward to welcome the sisters. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you, my dears,” she said. She cast a quick look at Francis. “I see now why my presence here is required, Francis. Shame on you for not telling me how pretty these ladies are.”
“Well, I didn’t think that . . .” Francis began, while Beatrice, Claire, and Emily, their faces quite flushed with embarrassment, performed a series of awkward curtsies.
“Tut, tut.” Genevieve wagged an admonishing finger at her nephew. She then leaned forward against her cane and served Beatrice the most inquisitive of stares. “When did you last eat?”
“I . . .” Beatrice glanced sideways at her two sisters. “I mean, we . . .”
“When?” Genevieve repeated, her eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“This morning, my lady.”
Genevieve leaned back a little. “Well, that really won’t do.” She turned to Francis. “These ladies are as skinny as my cane. You did well in bringing them here, though I daresay we’ll have our work cut out for us if we’re to fatten them up in time for the next ball.”
Francis couldn’t help but notice the look of despair on the sisters’ faces. He decided that it was time to jump to their rescue. “Aunt Genevieve, I really don’t think that . . .”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Francis,” Genevieve remarked. “But I really don’t give a rat’s bottom for what you think right now. If these ladies are to attract the proper attention, then it’s imperative that they show themselves off to their best advantage. Some ample bosoms are what we need—mark my word.”
A shocked silence followed.
It was Beatrice who eventually spoke. “I know that you have our best intentions at heart, my lady, but we didn’t come here in search of husbands. And even if we did, I would certainly hope that they’d be drawn
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