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

by Julie Johnstone

  Grandfather’s brow furrowed. “Anne? Why would Anne pen me a note?”

  Jemma’s knees almost buckled with relief. Grandfather may not be the monster she’d believed he was, but she highly doubted he’d be pleased to hear Anne had run off to Gretna Green with Mr. Frazier.

  Jemma gripped the bedpost with one hand and waved her other hand in front of her face dismissively. “Anne just loves to pen notes. I thought perhaps she had written you one.”

  Grandfather narrowed his eyes as his mouth curved upward. Was that a smile? Jemma found herself leaning closer to try to decide. Hmm... She couldn’t conclude if it was a smile or a smirk.

  “You do not lie all that well,” he said suddenly.

  “I most certainly do,” she retorted before she could stop herself. He grinned at her. She’d never seen him grin. Frankly, she hadn’t thought him capable.

  He patted the bed. “Truly, you don’t, Granddaughter. Your mouth twitches at the right corner.”

  Jemma frowned as she pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

  Grandfather chuckled. “Come sit by me, Jemma. I daresay you and I have much to discuss.” He tilted his head as if in thought. “Perhaps we should call Anne in here, too.”

  Jemma rushed to his side and plopped onto the bed. “Oh no! Let us discuss things first. I’ll fetch Anne later.” Much later. As in if and when Anne came home.

  Grandfather reached out and touched the top of her hand. Jemma could do no more than gape at his wrinkled, blue-veined hand when he pulled it away awkwardly. It struck her acutely that he was not overly comfortable with showing affection. That was completely different from not having love in your heart. She stared at him for a long moment, realizing she had refused to get to know him herself. She’d stubbornly clung to her beliefs of him based on gossip from servants—who could’ve very well not known him, either, and had just believed what they thought they knew—and, of course, her mother.

  Mother. Sadness rippled over Jemma. Mother had all but refused to talk about Grandfather, except to say how he had ruined her life by denying her a dowry. Mother certainly had been angry with Father, as well, and often called him a heartless rake. More than once, she justified that things would not have happened as they had if she had been in possession of her dowry and if Grandfather had not tried to force her to his will. She’d called him the Cold Duke.

  Grandfather shifted on the bed, reminding her that she was not alone. He caught her gaze. “The letter I received very early this morning was from Lord Glenmore.”

  “Oh.” Jemma tried to sound surprised, but she was so concentrated on keeping her mouth still she thought her voice sounded rather fake, even to her.

  “It was a rather odd letter.”

  “Was it?” She began to smooth wrinkles out of his coverlet in her nervousness. Was this to be it? Was he going to become enraged and demand she leave, or was she wrong about that? This would be one of those times that being wrong would be lovely.

  “Lord Glenmore stated, in very plain terms, that he would not consider you for his wife. He said you were vain, insipid, and a cold sort.”

  “Did he?” she squeaked, trying desperately to keep the happiness out of her voice.

  Grandfather gazed at her with a bland half smile. “At first, I was shocked. In fact—” he cleared his throat and looked away “—that’s what sent me to bed.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded but did not turn back to meet her gaze. “I’ve been told that vigorous activity makes my heart beat too fast, dangerously so, I believe. Too much excitement will do the same, such as the kind a disobedient granddaughter causes.”

  Jemma nibbled on her lip. A blast of worry chilled her. There was no way around the fact that if he discovered Anne had fled he would get too excited. It simply had to be kept a secret, no matter what.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, turning to look at her once again, “at first I was shocked. I’ve observed you since you’ve been here, and you are many things but uninteresting is not one of them.”

  He’d been observing her? How had she failed to notice that?

  “Er, thank you.”

  He scowled at her words. “I spent most of this morning contemplating the time you’ve lived with me—”

  “Oh, you mustn’t do that and cause yourself worry.”

  “I’ve already done it.”

  Her heart sank. “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  She bit her lip. Did she? She was not entirely certain anymore. “I think I do. What did you conclude?”

  “I thought you were purposely pretending to be unable to master proper English decorum simply to annoy me because you hate me—”

  “Grandfather...” She didn’t hate him. Well, she had. Now she was simply confused.

  He gave her a stern look, and she fell silent. Then his severe look changed, replaced by a softness she’d never seen. He let out a long sigh. “But even if you hate me, why would you not want to marry Lord Glenmore? He’s a fine match for you. Why did you drive him away?”

  She could deny that she had, but they would both know she was lying. “Because I didn’t want to get married. Especially to a man you intended to force me to wed so you could control me.”

  “Force you to wed?” Grandfather repeated, surprise evident in his high-pitched tone. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

  “When you came to get me and Anne in America you threatened that if I did not ensnare Lord Glenmore I would meet the same fate as Mother and would be an outcast. I assumed you meant you would throw me out of the house as you had Mother when she came back wed to Father.”

  Grandfather didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead, he rubbed at his chest for several tense seconds before releasing a ragged breath and speaking. “I’m afraid, Granddaughter, we have grossly misunderstood each other, which was something I swore would never occur. When I said what I did to you in New York, I thought I expressed myself clearly, but I can see now I did not. I only ever wanted for your mother what I had with your grandmother, and that was a marriage of love. That was something my parents did not have so I knew the bitterness a marriage without love could cause both parties.”

  Jemma felt her eyes widen. Dr. Talbot was correct about what Grandfather had wanted for Mother.

  Grandfather smiled. “I see I’ve surprised you.”

  “I daresay that’s an understatement.”

  “Granddaughter, you remind me much of your mother. She was ever direct, as you are. I’ve never been good at expressing affection—I’m afraid it’s a characteristic my father dragooned into me that has been hard for me to change—but luckily for me, your grandmother understood me. She knew I loved her and would do anything for her, and I thought your mother realized it, too. Now, I know what you’re thinking...”

  Did he? She didn’t even know what she was thinking. Her thoughts were a jumble in her head.

  Grandfather leaned forward with a grunt and reached behind him as if to adjust his pillows. Jemma scampered to her feet, glad for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Let me.” He nodded, and she fluffed his pillows. “Good?” He gave another quick nod, and she sat once again. Frankly, she had so many questions she wasn’t sure what to ask first.

  “So you did not send Mother packing after she disobeyed you?”

  “Certainly not. I never saw your mother again after the day she came back to the house from Gretna Green with your father and I refused to give him a dowry for her. They both departed, and the only way I even knew that your father had abandoned her after he realized taking her away would not make me change my mind was because she wrote to me railing and blaming me for everything that had occurred. I would have given my life, my entire fortune, anything to erase your mother’s burden and bring her back home.”

  Jemma rubbed her temples. “But I overheard two of your servants gossiping, saying you wanted to force me and Anne to bend to your will, as you had failed to do with Mother.”

  Grandfather muttered
to himself as he shook his head. “I knew some of them believed that, and I never tried to dispel their beliefs because it seemed better to me for them to think me an ogre and blame me for all than to look unkindly toward your mother.” He heaved a sigh. “I never stopped to consider that they would gossip about me and you would overhear. More the fool am I.”

  He wasn’t a fool! He’d thought of Mother before himself. Jemma’s throat ached with raw emotion. She wanted to ask him so many things, things that had been with her for years, festering like a thorn in a finger. “Did you—” she swallowed her nervousness “—did you know of Anne and me?”

  He shook his head. “Not until the day you sent the letter asking for money to save your bakery. That’s how I learned I had two granddaughters and that your mother was dead. I swore then to protect the two of you from men who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end.

  “I tried to save your mother,” he continued. “I tried to match her with another gentleman because I knew he had been raised with good values, and I hoped he might dissuade her from marrying your father. I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true.”

  “That’s all right. Clearly, you were right about my father.”

  Grandfather sighed. “I would have given my life to be wrong. Your mother blamed me for the rest of her life for his leaving. If she hadn’t, she would have come home. But, Granddaughter, if he had stayed and shown me he loved her for her, I would have eventually given them all the money they needed. I never got the chance.”

  Jemma opened her mouth to agree, but he waved her to silence. And then he surprised her by grasping her hand. “What I was trying to make clear to you that day in the bakery was that coming back here to London would be difficult for you and your sister. What I didn’t say was that it would be difficult because everyone in the ton knows of your mother’s elopement to a commoner and that she’d fled and never returned.”

  Jemma furrowed her brow. “But you said I’d suffer the same fate as Mother if I didn’t heed you.”

  A heated flush stained his cheeks. “I only meant if your mother had listened to me about your father her life would have been different. I was trying to tell you I’m not quite the ogre your mother had likely painted me as.”

  Jemma scowled. “You could have just said that.”

  He smirked in return. “We both should have said many things. It would have saved us much worrying, I imagine, and would have saved you from pretending to be someone you’re not.” He paused. “Now, tell me. Why do you dislike Glenmore? From what I know of him, he’s an honorable gentleman.”

  Jemma pressed her lips together. “Then he has completely fooled you,” she replied and commenced to tell him everything Glenmore had said to her and the few things Philip had revealed.

  Grandfather closed his eyes for a moment, and Jemma worried her lip. He looked very tired, and she should probably let him rest, but what of Anne? She didn’t want to keep it a secret from him any longer, yet she didn’t want to make his condition worse. Besides, if Anne returned unmarried and no one the wiser, perhaps the situation need not be mentioned.

  Grandfather slowly opened his eyes. “I want you to be happy. That is all I ever wanted. I thought I was helping by making you a good match, but I’m an old fool who knew nothing. Can you forgive me?”

  Jemma nodded, reached out, and hugged him, and for the first time ever, he hugged her back. Yes, it was an awkward hug, but it was a start. When they separated, he scrubbed a hand across his face. “What’s that you said about not wanting to marry?”

  Jemma caught the inside of her cheek between her teeth. Even if she wanted to marry, even if she harbored doubts now, what hope was there? She was no innocent. Her stomach roiled with her thoughts. She was so afraid. She was afraid to want to give her heart again, because who would want her? Who would be steadfast and never betray her? Philip was the only man who had enticed her to doubt herself at all, and surely he would have called off his plan to become a rake by now if he was interested in her? Right?

  Or was he waiting for a sign from her? Did she want to give a sign? She had wanted him to kiss her...

  Her stomach coiled. What were the ludicrous thoughts in her head making her feel positively ill? She had said she would not care, and she needed to remember that! Even if the stars aligned perfectly, how could Philip ever care for her faced with the truth of what she’d given away?

  “Jemma!”

  She blinked and forced her riotous thoughts to quiet. “I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.”

  Grandfather smiled. “About Lord Harthorne?”

  Why would he say that?

  “Certainly not,” she clipped, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. She had to stop these thoughts. She had already loved one man who had broken her heart. She certainly didn’t want to serve her heart on a silver platter to another man to reject.

  Grandfather let out a disgruntled sigh. “I’m sorry. I just thought, perhaps, since he took you to the theatre...” He shook his head. “No, that would be too simple for you to immediately meet a man from a good family that you like. What of Anne?”

  “What of her?” Jemma said, darting her gaze away and trying desperately to keep her voice neutral.

  “Do you know if any particular gentleman has caught her fancy?”

  “I’m uncertain,” she hedged, forcing herself to look at him once more. “She did mention something about thinking Mr. Frazier was very nice,” she decided to add. If Anne came back married to Mr. Frazier, all Jemma would be able to do was support her sister and hope Grandfather would, too.

  “Frazier!” Grandfather bellowed. “The man’s a charlatan. He swindled several respectable gentlemen I know out of a great deal of money. Bring Anne to me now!”

  Jemma bit down hard on her lip. For a man who was allegedly so sick he had to lie in bed today, he was suddenly acting the picture of health. Anger could do that, she supposed.

  Heavens, she’d done it now. She needed quickly to think of an excuse for why Anne could not appear. “Er, Anne’s not feeling well.”

  He leveled her with a disbelieving stare. “What in particular is the matter with your sister besides an utter lack of judgment?”

  Jemma’s temper wanted to spike, but she reminded herself Grandfather was speaking thusly because he cared, not because he didn’t. “It is a womanly problem,” she replied, almost laughing when he started to stutter and stammer and shoved his hands behind his back.

  Men! When faced with Mother Nature and a woman, they didn’t know what to do or say.

  Grandfather finally nodded. “Tell Anne I’ll speak with her tonight at dinner.”

  “Shouldn’t you stay in bed?” Jemma asked, remembering he was supposed to remain calm for his heart.

  “Dinner,” he repeated, unbending.

  Jemma nodded, rushed out of the room, and raced to her own bedchamber. There was simply no way that Philip would be back with Anne and Mr. Frazier tonight. Whatever was she going to do?

  Philip couldn’t believe his eyes when his carriage rounded the bend in the road just outside London and suddenly Frazier and Miss Anne appeared in his line of vision, standing by a tree with Frazier’s carriage. Philip ordered his driver to pull up beside them, and as they did, Philip didn’t miss the smile on Anne’s face or the look of disgruntled disbelief that twisted Frazier’s mouth into a grim line. Philip jumped down from the seat he’d taken beside his coachman hours ago and came to stand toe to toe with Frazier. Philip eyed the broken wheel of Frazier’s carriage.

  “Oh, Lord Harthorne!” Miss Anne gushed, limping toward him. “We’re so glad you’re here. You’re the first carriage to come by! We’ve been stranded here all night with this broken wheel. I simply cannot walk far enough for us to find help, and I’m embarrassed to admit that when Ian tried to go, I begged him to stay. I was afraid to be alone in the dark.”

  “As well you should be,” Philip replied, the desire to wring Frazier’s neck making his words come out haltingly.
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br />   “Don’t be mad at Ian!” Anne exclaimed.

  “Aye,” Frazier grumbled. “Ye’d do the same if ye’d been stranded.”

  “I’d not be stranded on the side of the road with a lady whom I’d stolen away like a thief in the middle of the night to take to Gretna Green.”

  “Tha’s ’cause yer nae brave enough, Harthorne.”

  Philip’s temper snapped. He lunged forward, grabbed Frazier by his coat lapels, and dragged the man toward him until their faces were inches apart. “That is because I have respect for the lady and know a hasty marriage in Gretna Green would sever her from her family and shred her reputation, you imbecile.”

  “Shall Ah show ye who the imbecile is?” Frazier snarled as he tried to jerk out of Philip’s hold.

  Philip curled his fists tighter into the material. “By all means, if you wish it. Show me your pistol and I’ll show you mine,” he warned.

  “Philip,” Amelia said in a languid tone just before she appeared beside both him and Frazier. She shoved her gloved hand between the two of them and eyed him. “You really are not acting like yourself. You’re usually so logical and reasonable. Unhand Mr. Frazier.”

  He wasn’t himself and he knew why. It was Jemma. If this man ruined Miss Anne, he would effectively hurt Jemma, as well. Not that Philip didn’t care about Miss Anne being harmed, he did, but the idea of Jemma in pain tore at his insides in a way he could neither help nor stop. But Amelia was right. Dueling Frazier wouldn’t solve anything. He released Frazier, and the man stumbled back with a growl.

  Miss Anne rushed to Frazier and glared at Philip. “Did my sister send you to get me?”

  “Yes, she’s very upset and wants you to come home immediately.”

  Miss Anne bit her lip. “I will,” she said quietly, “after Ian and I are married.”

  Philip opened his mouth to tell her how foolish that was, but Amelia gave him a discreet shake of her head as she walked toward Jemma’s sister and reached out a hand to her. Miss Anne took the proffered hand after a moment’s hesitation, and Amelia drew her away from Frazier.