My Enchanting Hoyden (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel, #3) (33 page)

By the time he reached Rowan’s home, determination flowed through Philip’s veins as thick as blood. The footman answered the door but stepped quickly out of the way. Rowan himself was there. He motioned for Philip to move aside so he could come outside. Philip did as instructed and the front door was once again shut to him once the duke stepped out, leaving Rowan and Philip standing on the stairs at the front of the house.

“She does not wish to see you,” the duke said simply. “You need to leave.”

“I cannot,” Philip replied. “I love her, and I’ll return every day until she agrees to let me explain my actions and intentions. And if she still does not want me—” Philip could not bring himself to say the words. He wasn’t sure if he really would be able to finally leave her be, even if it was truly what she wanted, and he didn’t want to lie to Rowan.

Rowan sighed. “Tell me what it is you wish to say to Jemma. And if I believe you, I’ll allow you to return and continue to make a fool of yourself.”

Philip inclined his head. “Thank you very much, but you could never stop me returning.”

Rowan eyed him for a long, silent moment. “Perhaps not. You do seem determined. I could, however, send her away, somewhere you would never find her unless she chooses to be found.”

Philip wanted to throttle Rowan for suggesting such a thing. But that would not help matters. He cleared his throat, yet his words still came out on a growl. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Perhaps not. But perhaps I would. So tell me. Make me believe you. I want to, you know.”

Some of the tension drained out of Philip at that. He started to speak and told Rowan everything, from his inherited debts to his plan for his future. He paused and took a deep breath. “I was going to tell you this yesterday, but Jemma returned and interrupted our conversation. I was going to refuse to take her dowry. I never planned to accept it.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want the dowry? With all your debt, you are telling me you do not want the money?”

Philip shook his head. “All I want is her by my side for the rest of my life.”

They both fell silent and stared at each other, the sound of carriages on the street nearby filling the quiet between them. Rowan finally nodded, and the barest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. “Come back tomorrow.”

Philip’s chest expanded with hope. “You’ll tell her what I told you?”

“No. She’s not ready to hear it. She’s stubborn and prideful.” The duke grinned. “She inherited that from me. At any rate, I should not be the one to tell her. She needs to hear it from you.”

Philip nodded. “And if I keep coming back and she doesn’t concede to seeing me?”

“Then together we’ll come up with a plan.”

“Thank you,” Philip said, relief almost choking him.

“Thank
you
,” Rowan replied. “Your love for my granddaughter is obvious. All I ever wanted for my daughter and her daughters was for them to find the sort of love I was lucky enough to have. She loves you, too, you know. Your task is to make her accept that her love is greater than her fear of being hurt.”

Philip nodded, and as he turned to leave, he glanced up at the house. Shock rooted him to the spot as Jemma stepped away from one of the windows and its curtain immediately dropped. His chest tightened with hope. She’d come to the window at some point to watch her grandfather talk to him. That was something. And in a sea of despair, he would cling to it.

O
nce Jemma had watched Philip leave, she raced downstairs to find out what he had said. It wasn’t until her slippered feet touched the landing that the frenzied state she was in struck her. She forced herself to slow her steps and her breathing, just as her grandfather came toward her. She wanted to demand to know what Philip had said to Grandfather, but she didn’t want to seem too concerned. She wasn’t. Except
she was
, but only because she wanted to ensure Grandfather had made it clear that she did not want Philip to come back ever again.

“What did you say to him?” Was her voice too breathless? Too eager? She cleared her throat. “Did you make certain he knew I did not want him to return?”

Grandfather nodded. “I was perfectly clear regarding how you felt, what you wanted, and how he should not return.”

“Perfect,” Jemma mumbled, feeling as if someone had struck her in the gut. It was perfect, yet it felt anything but. It felt as if she were going to die. “I think I’ll go bake.”

He hesitated, seeming to measure her for a moment. “Do you really think baking will make you forget him?” he asked gently.

Her shoulders slumped. “No,” she whispered. “But if I don’t occupy myself I will go mad.”

He nodded. “Then by all means...”

She offered a halfhearted smile before turning to make her way to the kitchens, but Grandfather’s hand on her elbow stopped her. “Jemma, try to remember things are not always as they seem.”

Anger hardened in her chest. “No, they are not,” she responded without bothering to turn around. “Men are never what they seem.” With those words, she strode off and made her way to the kitchens, where she proceeded to bake batch after batch of tarts until tears stung her eyes and she was crying into her dough.

Suddenly, she felt a soft touch at her shoulder, and she looked up to find Anne standing beside her. Jemma stiffened. She didn’t want her sister here. Jemma was afraid she’d say terrible things to her because she was so angry with her for telling Philip about the dowry. Jemma had avoided Anne since yesterday and had feigned sleep when her sister had come into the bedchamber last night, but now Anne was here and speaking to her was unavoidable.

“Please go away,” Jemma said.

Anne shook her head. “He loves you.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes at her sister. “You told him of my dowry.”

Anne narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Yes, I did. Because I’m certain he loves you.”

Jemma stiffened. “You were certain Mr. Frazier loved you, as well.” The minute the words left her mouth, she was sorry. “Oh, Anne!” Jemma hugged her sister. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible, horrible thing to say.”

“It’s all right,” Anne said, but her words were stiff. “It’s true. I was certain of Ian. I thought. So certain I told him I was going to get a dowry.”

Jemma nodded. “I know. He told Philip of our dowry before you did,” she admitted, recalling what Philip had said about not believing Mr. Frazier. “Did you know that?”

Anne’s eyes widened. “No, but Jemma—”

Jemma slashed a hand through the air. “No! No ‘but Jemma’ anything. I won’t stand to listen to another word. I won’t. Do I need to leave or will you please stop talking about this?”

“I’ll stop,” Anne said archly. “For now.”

Jemma raised her eyebrow at her sister, but Anne simply glared back.

“Eventually,” Anne said, “you will become less angry.”

“Never.”

Anne plunked her hand on her hips. “You will. And then you will listen.”

Jemma turned her back to her sister and started kneading the dough for another batch of tarts.

Never.

J
emma could scarcely believe her eyes or ears when Philip arrived on her grandfather’s doorstep first thing the next morning. With a pounding heart, she begged Grandfather to send him away and then fled to her bedchamber, wishing to rid herself of the way her heart felt. It was as if it were shredding within her chest. Yet, the minute her bedchamber door shut, she could hear Philip’s voice all around her. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to drown out the voice in her head, and when she removed them, her jaw fell open.

“Jemma!” he shouted from below.

She scrambled to the window, certain she was going insane, yet there he was, standing on the steps leading to the front door and looking up at her.
Her!
She jerked the curtains closed and scrambled backward. In her haste, she tripped, tottered for a moment, and fell on her bottom with a resounding
thud
. A sharp pain shot all the way up her spine, joining the one in her heart.

“Jemma, please!” he called in a loud, clear voice.

“Go away,” she whispered to her empty room, yet he called her name repeatedly, echoing in her ears and causing doubt to torment her. Was she wrong about him?

No!

With a thumping heart, she climbed onto her bed and buried her head under a mound of pillows where the only sound that reached her ears was the frantic beating of her heart.

She had no idea how long she lay there, but when the heat became too oppressive, she finally threw the pillows off her head and tensed. Silence greeted her, and she exhaled a ragged, shaky breath. Not relieved. She was far from relieved. Disbelief and uncertainty twisted through her, making her feel as if her insides were forming a knot. He’d actually come here again. Had he left yet?

She tiptoed to the window and barely slit the curtains to peek out. The doorstep was empty and his carriage was nowhere in sight. He was gone. Hollowness filled her. He’d made a fool of himself for her. It was the sort of gesture one would find in an epic love poem, yet she would never know for certain if it was because he loved her or because of the money he would receive upon marrying her. Bitterness and sadness swept in to replace the emptiness.

S
he awoke to Philip’s voice in the early morning. At first she thought she was dreaming, but as her grogginess cleared, she realized with a start that he had returned. Warmth flooded her and then horror overcame the feeling. She did not want to be happy that he was back.

Anne huffed as she sat up in her bed and glared at Jemma. “Go to him!”

Jemma shook her head.

“For goodness’ sake, Jemma, at least hear him out. He loves you!”

“Loves me?” Jemma spat. “He loved my dowry, not me.”

Anne shook her head. “He all but admitted he loved you before I ever mentioned that Grandfather was bestowing a dowry on you.”

Uncertainly gripped Jemma, but she shoved it away. “He duped you. And me. He’s very clever.”

“You’re wrong,” Anne retorted. “He told me he could never go through with marrying for money after he met you. Why he—”

“Stop it!” Jemma snapped. “Just stop it! Must I move to another bedchamber to escape this?”

Anne’s nostrils flared and her hands curled into fists atop her coverlet. She looked as if she was going to say more, but she shut her mouth, heaved a breath, then spoke softly. “I’ll say no more. For now,” she said as she rose. She dressed and silently left their bedchamber.

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut as Philip called her name once again. She sat unmoving, but each time he called to her, her heart jerked in her chest and her body trembled. After a time, the room fell blessedly silent. She lay back and pulled her covers over her head, not wishing to get out of bed and face the day or her life.

Anne returned to the room many hours later when shadows danced on the walls and the moon shone bright in the sky through the window. Jemma sat in a chair staring down at the spot where Philip had been earlier that day. Anne’s uneven footsteps tapped against the floor as she came to stand behind Jemma, and she settled her hand on Jemma’s shoulder.

“Grandfather wants to know if you plan to come to supper.”