My Enchanting Hoyden (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel, #3) by Julie Johnstone Page B

the two of you because of your mother’s betrayal. Servants talk, so I’ll be sure to mention it around them.”
    Yes, the servants do talk, Jemma thought, her stomach clenching into a big knot. He had never forgiven Mother, and he was only giving Jemma and Anne dowries because he wanted to control their lives. He was high-handed, to be sure, but in this instance, for Anne’s protection, Jemma was glad. Anne wanted to marry, though it boggled Jemma’s mind that Anne could even think of trusting a man.
    “Anne, don’t fret.” Grandfather’s words made Jemma’s brow crease. “I’ll find an excellent husband for you, as well.”
    Anne’s face drained of color, which Jemma completely understood. Had Anne thought Grandfather was going to let her choose? Maybe now Anne would decide to avoid marriage as Jemma had.
    Jemma needed to be alone. Her emotions swirled inside her, and she was afraid she’d forget herself and tell her grandfather what she really thought of his generous dowry . “I’m in agreement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go bake.”
    His mouth turned down. “I’ve allowed it thus far because I know that’s all the two of you knew in America, but really, Granddaughter, ladies do not bake. Or cook. We have servants to do that for you.”
    “I enjoy baking,” she said through clenched teeth. It was the one thing that kept her from going insane. It was the only time she could make any of her own decisions.
    “Very well.”
    A short time later, she was pounding the dough with her fists as one of the cooks gaped at her. She offered a weak smile. “The dough needs to be very flat.”
    The cook snorted. “If that dough were once alive, it’d now be dead. It’s flat, Miss Adair.”
    Jemma nodded and gave it one extra smack to lessen her anger. She inhaled a long, slow breath and recited in her mind, He won’t lord over me forever, as she baked.

    P hilip sat in Aversley’s study and faced his longtime friend.
    Aversley steepled his fingers and surveyed Philip with eyes too keen for Philip’s liking. “What brings you here today?”
    Philip cleared his throat. “The loan. I cannot yet pay you back. I’m sorry.”
    Aversley waved a hand. “Think nothing of it.”
    Philip flinched. “I do think something of it. I borrowed it with a promise to pay you back, and I’m a man of my word.”
    Aversley sighed. “I know that, but you are also family now. If you cannot pay the loan back, I don’t care.”
    Philip leaped out of his seat and paced in front of Aversley’s desk. “It’s a matter of pride and honor. I will pay you back. I want you to know that.” He stopped, placed his hands on the desk, and stared at Aversley.
    Aversley nodded. “Very well. I understand about pride, and I commend you. Do you have a plan?”
    Philip motioned to the sidebar. He needed a drink before he voiced his plan. Hell, he needed a drink to be able to voice his plan. “May I?”
    “Certainly.”
    Philip started toward the sidebar and stopped midway, dragging his hand over his face. He stared down at the swirling pattern of the green-and-burgundy rug. How had it come to this? His father had put them in the debt, but Philip blamed only himself for somehow not managing to get them out of it. “I’m seven and twenty and on the verge of being destitute. And I am taking my unsuspecting mother and Eustice down with me.”
    “Eustice?” Aversley asked from behind Philip. “Who’s Eustice?”
    “The cousin I am now sponsoring for the Season,” Philip said, continuing to the sideboard. He poured himself two fingers of brandy, then turned and faced Aversley once more.
    Aversley shook his head. “You’re too nice. You should have said no.”
    Philip took a sip of his drink. “Is that what you would have done?”
    Aversley frowned. “Perhaps at one time, when I was more of a rake, before I met your sister.”
    “You were still a rake when you met my sister.”
    “True.” Aversley grinned. “She has