My Enchanting Hoyden (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel, #3) (31 page)

Amelia waved her hand. “You needn’t worry about Eustice. That’s the other thing I came to tell you. Our cousin has already had an offer for her hand.”

“Eustice?” Not that he didn’t think she was a lovely lady, she was, but it was not the sort of apparent loveliness that one would think inspired quick offers of marriage.

Amelia pressed her lips together, but he could still see the corners pulling up in a smile. “I know! I had the same thought I see going across your face, but I’m thrilled to say Lord Hodgeworth fell hopelessly for Eustice on their very first meeting. It seems he’s never met a lady who knows as much about mathematics and nature as he does.” Amelia sat back in her chair and gazed up at Philip. “Now, I do hope you no longer feel required to marry for money to save Eustice and Mother from any harm or hardship.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” he asked, slightly amused and slightly irritated.

Amelia shook her head. “No. Sophia told me all. But there are a few things I feel required to tell
you
.”

“I can only imagine,” he said drolly.

“You may not know it yet, but I assure you that you love Jemma.”

Philip considered denying it, just to irritate Amelia and see her work herself into a fit, but he allowed a slow smile to spread. “I already know it, and I’ve told her as much.”

Amelia jumped up and hugged him. “Will you be asking for her hand?”

“You can be sure that I will,” he said, his chest tightening with happiness at the very real fact that, unless some disaster occurred, Jemma—his flame-haired, dazzling-eyed hoyden—would soon be his wife. He’d never have a day of peace again, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it. Life with Jemma would never be dull. It would be like an epic poem.

“I feel so much better for deceiving you now,” Amelia said.

Philip narrowed his gaze on his sister. “I beg your pardon?”

A blush covered her face. “Er, this is the rest of what I need to tell you. When you asked Sophia to help you make the list, she believed, as I did, that you and Jemma would make a perfect match, so Sophia purposely put debutantes on the list she knew would not suit you, except you wanted ten names. She could only think of eight completely unsuitable women, so we had to scheme to make sure you disliked the other two upon meeting them.”

Philip gaped at his sister. “I cannot believe you did that.”

Amelia pursed her lips. “Really? And here I thought you truly knew me.”

He wanted to be angry, but it was difficult considering how things had turned out. “Which two?” It was hard to say, given all the ladies he had encountered had not been suitable in his mind.

Amelia grinned. “Lady Barbara and Lady Margaret.”

Philip snorted. “That would explain how strange Lady Barbara acted.”

Amelia giggled. “I went to great personal sacrifice to persuade her to do so. I had to secure her another suitor because she thought you were rather handsome.”

He coughed to cover his laugh.

Amelia glared, but her smile still twitched her lips.

Philip crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose Lady Margaret did not have a dead fiancé named Philip.”

Amelia shook her head. “Are you angry?”

Instead of chiding his sister for her interference, he took her hand and kissed it. “I should be, but I’m too happy about Jemma. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to see if I can secure employment
and
a bride.”

Amelia’s laughter and call of “Good luck!” followed him as he walked out of the room and down the hall, whistling and twirling his top hat as he went.

“J
emma,” Grandfather scolded from his chair, “if you pace across my favorite Aubusson rug one more time, you will wear a hole in it and I’ll be most displeased. Your grandmother personally chose this rug for me. Do sit down. Your beau will come.”

“Yes, do take a seat,” Anne urged. “Your constant pacing is making it hard to concentrate on my book.”

Jemma caught the inside of her cheek between her teeth and worried the flesh. She’d told Grandfather that she loved Philip and wished to marry him to ensure there would be no doubt about what she desired when Philip came. She’d also wanted to make sure Grandfather was going to permit the union, but there had been absolutely no worry there. Grandfather heartily approved of Philip. All she needed now was
Philip
.

Jemma walked to the window and stared out at the empty drive again, wringing her hands. “It’s already four. Philip said he would come early. What if he’s changed his mind?”

“Don’t be silly,” Anne said. “He loves you. It’s quite obvious.”

Jemma glanced at Grandfather. She loved her sister, but Anne could be fanciful. Grandfather was far from fanciful. He nodded. “Your sister is right. It’s obvious even to an old man like me.”

That should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. Perhaps it was the fact that love had let her down so terribly before.
But Philip is not Will,
she reminded herself.

Still, it was four o’clock. Where was he?

Grandfather stood as he bellowed for Mr. Sims. “Why don’t you go for a ride in the park? It will make you feel better.”

She shook her head. Only Philip appearing and asking for her hand would make her feel better. Grandfather was in front of her before she could blink, propelling her toward the door where Mr. Sims was entering.

“Your Grace?” the butler asked.

“Ready my carriage. My granddaughter is taking a ride in Hyde Park to calm her nerves.”

Jemma bristled at the description. “I am not a nervous lady.”

“Not usually,” Anne sang in an overly cheery voice, “but today you are positively tangled up! I agree with Grandfather: you should go to Hyde Park and get some fresh air. Do you want me to come?” Anne asked as she rubbed her leg.

Jemma shook her head. She knew Anne’s leg had been paining her today, and she didn’t want to make her sister feel any worse. “What if Philip comes while I am out?” Jemma asked.

“He’ll speak with me first, as is proper,” Grandfather supplied.

“But what if I’m not back by the time the two of you are finished discussing things?”

Grandfather quirked a bushy eyebrow. “I imagine he’ll wait for you, as you’ve done for him all day.”

Jemma detected a note of amusement in her grandfather’s tone, and maybe even a tinge of vengeance. Was he trying to pay Philip back for making her wait? Still, she didn’t want to go. “I think I’ll stay and—”

“I insist you go,” Grandfather demanded in a tone that allowed no rebuttal. “Your fretting has increased by the hour and is making my own nerves sing. And the cook vows that there is no more counter space in the kitchen for all the cookies you’ve baked. Take a short ride. You needn’t be here when Lord Harthorne arrives. And if he tries to leave before you return, we’ll chain him in the dungeon.”

“You don’t have dungeon,” she grumbled as Anne’s laughter rang out through the study.

“I knew I should have built one,” Grandfather joked, but then he grew serious. “I do not care to see you made nervous by Lord Harthorne. Are you sure that you are certain of him?”

Her heart expanded at his protectiveness of her. “I’m certain.”

“Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands. “Off you go. Allow me the pleasure of securing a marriage of love for you, as I failed to do with your mother.”

Jemma caught her breath. So this was the true heart of the matter. She could not deny him that.

“All right. I’m off. I’ll take Eliza with me.”

Within minutes, Jemma was riding in the carriage to Hyde Park. She had to admit that she was feeling much more relaxed by the time they arrived at the park. The sun filled the sky, almost blindingly so, and the scent of roses and fresh grass swirled in the air. She decided to take a walk around the Serpentine, so she and Eliza set out on foot.

As they approached the water, she spotted a couple facing each other. They appeared to be arguing, and Jemma was about to turn away when she realized it was Mr. Frazier and Lady Beatrice.

Jemma smiled with grim satisfaction that the note she’d sent around to Lady Beatrice this morning had apparently worked to awaken the lady to the scoundrel before her, but Jemma’s heart also twisted for poor Lady Beatrice. Jemma, grabbing Eliza’s hand, scuttled back behind the tree, afraid if they turned and fled now, Mr. Frazier would see her. She’d wait until he faced the other direction or, better yet,
left
.

Soon Lady Beatrice was heading straight toward them with Mr. Frazier on her heels, calling her name. Jemma cringed at the desperation tingeing his tone. She pulled Eliza farther behind the tree and prayed neither Lady Beatrice nor Mr. Frazier would spot them. When Lady Beatrice stomped by without slowing and then Mr. Frazier followed, Jemma let out a relieved breath and waited until both parties had rounded the bend in the path before she ventured out from behind the tree.

“I’m sorry, Eliza,” she said to her lady’s maid, who was pulling stray twigs from her bun. “That man is odious, and I certainly didn’t want to come in contact with him.”

“I understand, my lady. He’s the gentleman that hurt your sister, yes?”

“He’s no gentleman. He’s a blackhearted rake, if ever there was one, and I hope he rots in— Whatever is the matter?” Eliza’s eyes had grown very wide.

“Ah do believe wha’s th’ matter is me,” Mr. Frazier said from behind Jemma.

“I’m sorry, Miss!” Eliza hastened. “He appeared like a ghost.”

Or a devil,
Jemma thought, turning to face him. “Hello, Mr. Frazier.”

“Miss Adair. I dinnot suppose ye ken who might’ve told Lady Beatrice Ah was interested more in her money than th’ fair lass herself.”

“I’ve no idea to what you are referring,” Jemma lied.

Mr. Frazier stepped closer to her, threateningly so. “Do ye not, now? Ah beg ta differ. Ah saw ye starin’ at me last night with yer eyes all narrowed and yer face twisted in a grimace as Ah was speakin’ with Lady Beatrice.”

Mindful of Eliza hovering behind her like a scared mouse, Jemma squared her shoulders to show Mr. Frazier he didn’t intimidate her. “Perhaps, Mr. Frazier, you’re not as clever as you believed. Perhaps each woman you try to trick into marriage will see through your false words to the man you really are. A man who does not want a woman for who she is at all but only for the money she will bring him.”

His jaw clenched. “Dinnot fool yerself, Miss Adair. All men want a wife first fur th’ money she will bring him and next fur what she will bring ta his bed.”

She tilted her chin up. “You’re wrong. Only rakes with no consciences think that way.”

A malicious smile spread across his face. “Then yer Lord Harthorne is a rake with nae conscience. Ah saw ye starin’ at him all dove-eyed last night, thinkin’ he’s so above me.”

“He is above you,” she spat. “But that has nothing to do with his rank and everything to do with the fact that he is an honorable gentleman.”

Mr. Frazier’s hand shot out, and he jerked her toward him. Behind her, Eliza shrieked, but a dark look from Mr. Frazier silenced her. Jemma’s heart pounded, but slowly, she raised her gaze to Mr. Frazier’s. “If you don’t unhand me at once I’ll tell Lord Harthorne of your treatment of me, and then I’ll be pleased to watch as he kills you in a duel.”

“I’m sure ye would,” Mr. Frazier snarled, shoving her away so hard that she staggered into Eliza and they both nearly toppled over. Once she’d regained her balance, she motioned for Eliza to follow her, and Jemma moved to step around Mr. Frazier.

He blocked her path with his arm. “A moment, Miss Adair. There’s somethin’ Ah think ye ought ta know ’bout the man ye fancy ta be perfect.”

“And what is that?” she asked, pleased with how cold and strong her voice sounded.

“If ye think a man wantin’ ta marry fur money makes a man a blackhearted, no good, rotten rake, then Lord Harthorne is the king of rakes. He’s certainly fooled ye.”

A wave of uneasiness rippled through her. Mr. Frazier was wrong. Of course, he was. But he’d said it with such conviction. “You’re wrong. Lord Harthorne comes from a good family and does not need to marry for money. Besides, if he did, he certainly wouldn’t be pursuing me. My grandfather has never said I would be given any sort of dowry.”

“Never announced it, no, Ah grant ye that. But Ah told Harthorne it was so. Yer sister told me of the dowry and Ah told him.”

All her doubts about men, love, and Philip assaulted her at once, but she refused to give in to them. She believed in Philip. Yet Anne
had
told Mr. Frazier. Jemma’s stomach clenched, even as she tilted her chin up. “You’re lying. He would have said something. He, unlike you, is honorable.”

Mr. Frazier shook his head. “I’m nae lyin’. And he’d’ve been a fool ta say somethin’ ta ye. He may come from a good family, but he’s got no money. Plenty of debt, aye, but money, nay.”

“You’re despicable.” Her body trembled, and the doubts beat at her much like the waves had battered the ship she and Anne had sailed on as they’d crossed from America to England.

“Call me what ye will, but if Ah em despicable, Harthorne is despicable, too.”

She swatted at his arm to get him to lower it. As he did, she grasped Eliza and fairly dragged her around Mr. Frazier. Jemma’s heart hammered with each step she took, and by the time they were at the top of the stone path and she could see her grandfather’s carriage in the distance, her breaths were coming in short gasps and she could barely think past her doubts to take the next step. She stopped and pressed her back into the trunk of a large tree to catch her breath and gain her composure. Eliza doubled over beside her, panting, as well.