Free How Miss Rutherford Got Her Groove Back by Sophie Barnes Page A

you lost. I think I’ve earned the right to know.”
    “Let the poor girl out of her misery, Francis,” Beatrice declared. “Unless of course you want me to tell her.”
    “I suppose you’re right. Go ahead then, tell her.”
    “Very well,” Beatrice said as she straightened her back. “Francis has graciously given us the opportunity to attend the most important balls of the season.” Claire let out a squeal of delight, which Beatrice silenced by raising her hand. “In order for us to do so, however, we must dress appropriately. Francis has generously offered to cover all costs, and I have accepted. So, both you, Claire, and you, Emily, will be making your debuts this season amongst the very elite that society has to offer. It’s a gift that mustn’t be passed up.”
    Her last words were stern, taking on a demanding tone. She held Emily’s gaze as she spoke them, for she knew that her sister would protest with every fiber of her being. Emily was suffering and she wanted space and time in which to do so. She didn’t want to accept what she would surely term “charity” from anyone, least of all from Francis.
    Beatrice understood her sister’s reasoning, of course. But Francis was right. Beatrice had no idea why he was being so helpful and so kind, but she knew that the chance was unlikely to present itself twice. She would have to be firm, she realized, but she was confident that Emily would eventually do as she was asked. She would simply have to tell her younger sister how much this might affect all of them and that she mustn’t say no—if not for her own sake, then for Claire’s.

 
    C HAPTER E IGHT
     
    A ttempting to hide his surprise to the best of his abilities, Jonathan regarded his friend and employer hesitantly. “Do you have any idea how much time and effort will be involved? Not to mention the expense . . .” He let out a sigh as he shook his head in bewilderment. “What were you thinking, Francis? Taking three grown women under your wing like that . . . it’s completely out of character.”
    Francis eyed Jonathan suspiciously. “What are you saying? That I’m not capable of being charitable and kind?”
    “I merely . . .”
    “I know what everyone thinks of me, Jonathan,” Francis said, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare try and sugar it over for me. Not you, of all people. It’s what I value most about your friendship—your unfailing honesty and your loyalty. You’re never afraid of saying it as it is . . . I wish more people would be that way.”
    “Very well then,” Jonathan told him firmly. “No, I don’t think you’re capable of being that charitable or kind, unless there’s some reason behind it that I’m unaware of. So . . . what’s your angle, old friend?”
    Slumping down into a brown leather armchair, Francis’s hand caught his chin as he rested his elbow against one of the fat side arms. He let out an exhausted sigh. “I don’t know,” he muttered, glancing across at Jonathan as he spoke.
    Jonathan echoed his sigh and rubbed the brim of his nose between his thumb and his index finger. “Have you had any thoughts as to who might be able, and, more importantly, willing to sponsor them for the duration of the season? Your aunt won’t do—she’s much too old to take on such a strenuous task.”
    “I didn’t think . . .”
    “Clearly!” Jonathan remarked as he let out another exasperated sigh, shaking his head in frustration. It was fortuitous that he and Francis had known each other for as long as they had, or he might have been looking for a new job that very instant. But that wasn’t the case. They were like brothers, so when Jonathan occasionally happened to give Francis hell, it never amounted to anything more than friendly banter.
    “Just for the sake of asking,” Jonathan continued with a sudden look of hope upon his face, “is there any chance at all that you might be tempted to tell these women that you’ve had a change of