Read Online My Enchanting Hoyden (A Once Upon A Rogue Novel, #3) by Julie Johnstone - Free Book Online

told me before that all women know reformed rakes make the best husbands.”
    The words sprang an idea in Philip’s mind. “That’s it!” he exclaimed.
    “What’s it?” Aversley asked, his face a mirror of bewilderment.
    Philip strode back to the chair and sat down. “I need to become a rake to catch a wealthy bride.”
    “You wish to do what?” Aversley bellowed, his brows dipping together.
    Philip sliced a hand through the air, ignoring Aversley’s question and his astonished look. “You and Scarsdale were both rakes who professed not to want love. You both lied to the women you ended up with, didn’t particularly show them love to begin with, and yet you both captured the woman you wanted.”
    Aversley’s jaw fell open, and he stared at Philip for a long moment. “I beg your pardon? I must not have heard you correctly.”
    “You heard me,” Philip said and took another, deeper drink of his brandy. The liquid warmed his stomach but not his heart.
    “There must be another way to pay your debts besides becoming a rake and finding a wealthy wife.”
    Philip shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve considered every option. It is my only one.”
    “What about employment, since you won’t borrow?”
    “And what do you think the ton would say?” Philip growled.
    Aversley arched an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you gave a damn.”
    Philip swigged back his drink and slammed the now-empty tumbler on the desk. “For myself, I don’t. But to protect my mother from anything that may make her slide back into the grip of laudanum, I would sell my soul.”
    A dark look passed over Aversley’s face, and the man nodded, rose, walked to the sidebar, and came back carrying the decanter of brandy and a glass. Facing Philip, he leaned against the desk and filled both of their glasses. He raised his drink, and Philip did the same.
    Aversley took a long breath and said, “May you not regret this.”
    Philip took a drink and allowed the liquor to warm him. He swirled the amber liquid around as he stared into his glass. “What do you think my chances are of securing an heiress whom I love?”
    Aversley tilted his glass back, drank the brandy, and set the crystal tumbler down. “That depends.”
    “On what?”
    “How honest are you going to be?”
    “I’m certainly not going to announce to the entire ton that I need to marry an heiress because my father was the worst money manager to ever live. Yet, if a woman I’m courting asks me directly if my family is in financial trouble, I’ll not lie.”
    Aversley shrugged. “Five percent, then.”
    Philip leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. His thoughts were too damn heavy to hold his head up any longer. He looked sideways at Aversley. “Would it make me a liar if I don’t offer the truth unless asked?”
    Aversley crossed his legs and studied Philip. “Are you asking me or trying to convince yourself?”
    Hell if he knew. “Is an omission a lie?”
    Aversley opened his mouth, but Philip interrupted him, his thoughts swirling. “I say not. I say it makes me a rake, and from where I sit, rakes win .”
    “I suppose you could see it that way, but I feel obligated to interject that your sister changed me. I’m no longer a rake, and I was no longer a rake when I won her.”
    Philip nodded. “Yes, yes. I know.”
    Aversley’s gaze widened. “Then, I suppose, your decision is made.”
    “Yes, it is. I’ve never been a rake, but I’ll become one in hopes of marrying a woman whose dowry can set to rights the mess my father left me but whom I also love, or if worse comes to worst, someone I can stand to have by my side the rest of my life.”
    “Harthorne—”
    “Not yet,” Philip grumbled, feeling as if he were much like sails finally catching wind. He wanted to surge forward before he lost momentum. “I want to love my wife, damnation, and I want her to love me.”
    Aversley nodded. “Definitely wise.”
    Philip bounded to his feet, feeling as if he could