Page 65 of Sinfully Wed
Odessa.
Stooping, Patchahoo picked up the document near him, his shrewd gaze running over the cramped writing. “Your debt to Whitehall has been expunged.” The solicitor looked at Jordan in surprise. “Gone. As if it never existed. Legally witnessed by the Duke of Ware no less. Your brief conversation with the duke must have made an impression. Congratulations, my lord.”
Ware, who Jordan didn’t know, had mysteriously found Epps. Made sure the survey arrived at Emerson House. Witnessed the cancellation of his debt to Whitehall.
“Expunged.” Jordan fell to one knee, picking up the bits of torn paper strewn over the rug. Even without piecing it together, there wasn’t any doubt it was the marriage contract binding him to Odessa Whitehall. Ripped apart. Destroyed.
“Jordan.” Tamsin came forward and kneeled beside him.
He stared at the tiny squares, but all he saw was Odessa and the desperate need to comfort her. There wasn’t any doubt she knew what her father had done to him. The proof lay scattered over the floor. One torn piece of the contract bore her name and Jordan picked it up, fingers running over the letters.
“Why aren’t you happy?” Drew said. “If the debt is erased, you don’t have to wed the troll.”
“Shut up, Drew.” Tamsin placed a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “You are forgiven your ignorance because you’ve been attending an endless stream of house parties. But I believe that despite our good fortune, and terrible Angus Whitehall, Jordan has decided he wants to wed Odessa after all. Haven’t you, Jordy?”
A well of pain broke over his heart.
I should have told her. Whispered it to her when she was in my arms.
“Yes.” Jordan rubbed his finger over Odessa’s name once more. He had stupidly assumed Odessaknewwhat was between them. That the contract no longer mattered. Their reasons for marrying no longer mattered. But shedid.
“Stop referring to Miss Whitehall as a troll, Drew. She’s perfectly lovely,” Tamsin admonished him. “And Jordan loves her.”
He folded up the tiny piece of paper with her name and clutched it in one hand. He had to find Odessa. The Duke of Ware was an excellent place to start.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Odessa wandered aboutthe hall of Orchard Park, the Duke of Ware’s estate, admiring the exorbitant amount of statuary that Hayden’s mother, the dowager duchess, had managed to acquire in her lifetime. There was a great deal of winged goddesses, togas, and sandaled feet. Her Grace favored antiquities from Greece, but there were also a few Egyptian gods mixed in for good measure. Anubis was a favorite of Odessa’s. Head of a jackal and all that. She’d amused herself all week by reading about mummification. Horribly gruesome.
She turned in the direction of the lawn, spying the head of Zeus as he stood guard at one end and Athena, clad in armor at the other. A massive black cat, tail twitching, sat atop the Greek god’s head, watching Odessa as she roamed about.
In addition to statues, the dowager duchess also collected cats.
A window seat sat tucked in one corner of the gallery, near Odessa’s favorite sculpture, Persephone and Hades captured in a tortured embrace.
Her fingers traced the folds of Persephone’s gown, the stone cold beneath her fingertips.
“Murder of a peer. I’m a duke, Whitehall. No one will believe the word of a charlatan like you over me.”
It was the first time Odessa had really seen Hayden for what he was. Not her beloved cousin or insect collector. But a duke. One whose influence stretched across England.
She had stood silently beside Hayden’s massive form as the threat was issued, carefully watching her father’s face for any sign that it could possibly be true. Only his left eye twitched. A tell of sorts. He may not have caused the death of Bentley Sinclair, but at the very least, he’d considered it.
“The marriage contract,” Odessa had said calmly with her hand held out. “Is declared void.”
He’d snarled at her. “No. Now get out of my study before I lose my temper, Odessa. And take him with you.” A rude gesture was thrown at Hayden.
“Summon your solicitor, Whitehall,” Hayden had drawled, looking far more menacing than Odessa had ever thought him capable. “Or I will. Along with the constable. You have no power. Not with me,” Hayden’s tone was so icy Odessa shivered. “You keep forgetting, I’m a bloody duke,” he growled, taking a step forward.
Her father’s eyes narrowed into slits.
Once Mr. Hall, the solicitor, arrived, Odessa took the marriage contract and tore the horrible document into tiny, impossible pieces. Putting the torn paper into a packet, she waited for Mr. Hall to produce another document, this one stating that all debts owed Angus Whitehall by Jordan Sinclair, Earl of Emerson, had been erased.
The document was witnessed by the Duke of Ware and a reluctant Burns.
All the while, her father glared at Odessa, but was wise enough not to issue a single demand in front of Hayden. She could see his mind working, trying to find a way to stop what was happening.
Odessa could barely look at the man who’d raised her.
