Page 29 of Sinfully Wed
Holly bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Also, how is it possible a uniform was found to fit you on such short notice?” Holly would be the perfect butler for the household of Lord Emerson. His size alone would put off a great many people. Lady Longwood and her insipid son, Percival, for instance.
“Lady Tamsin assisted me.” The mountain gazed at Tamsin with utter adoration before lowering his eyes. It was clear the butler would do anything for Jordan’s sister.
Good.
Tamsin shrugged. “I sent Holly to a tailor Mrs. Cherry recommended. It was not difficult.” She bestowed a smile on the butler.
Jordan had never seen a man of Holly’s imposing stature blush in such a way. He liked Holly already. Wandering over to a side table, Jordan ran his fingers over an ornate sculpture of a horse and rider made entirely of blue john. Blue john was rare. Exceptionally expensive. The sheer cost of this sculpture alone would have kept Jordan and his siblings well-fed at Dunnings for a year, possibly longer.
How you must have hated us, Bent.
Holly took down the portrait with little effort, stuck it under one muscled arm, and bowed to Jordan. “Will there be anything else, my lord?”
“Yes. I want you to accompany Lady Tamsin when she sells this.” He tapped the hunk of blue john. The sculpture wasn’t even especially good, which somehow made things worse. If Bentley were still alive, Jordan would be tempted to beat him with it. “Can you do that for me, Holly?”
“Of course, my lord.” Holly looked at Tamsin.
“I passed a shop earlier today on my way to Madame Theriot’s that deals in such things,” Tamsin interjected. “An antiquities dealer. Should I take anything else?”
“Anything that is not to your taste or just too Bentley. Leave only what you believe our parents purchased, or if the piece has sentimental value. Not things like this.” Jordan nodded at the sculpture. “Father never would have wasted such a sum on this terrible piece. This house is filled to the brim with our brother’s excess. I find it insulting.”
“Given Dunnings,” Tamsin said softly.
“After you are finished, have Holly escort you back to Madame Theriot’s,” Jordan instructed. “Whatever sum you are given by the antiquities dealer, offer it to the modiste for your wardrobe. A show of good faith. If the modiste does not wish to deal with you, find another. Do whatever is necessary to ensure you and Aurora are well turned out. Leave a bit for Drew and me.” He looked down at his own clothing. A nice coat, not specifically tailored for Jordan, but one that had been ready-made and not overly expensive. Patchahoo had insisted Jordan and his siblings stop on the way to London and outfit themselves properly, advancing them a sum to do so, but the frugality Jordan had learned over the years kept him from spending all of it.
Now, it didn’t matter. He was going to wed the smelly, odd troll known as Miss Whitehall.
Tamsin finished her whiskey. “Why don’t you rid yourself of that, Holly?” She nodded at the painting of Bentley. “Before we go out on our adventure.”
“Yes, my lady.” A ghost of a smile crossed the butler’s mouth before he departed, Bentley secured beneath his arm.
Jordan wondered what Holly would do with the portrait, and couldn’t find it in himself to care. The proper thing would have been to send it to Lady Longwood, but he wasn’t feeling gracious towards the old harpy. Not after what Tamsin and Aurora endured earlier.
“You never answered my question, Jordan. About Miss Whitehall.” Tamsin stood and examined the sculpture of the horse, running a finger over the tail. “He must have paid a fortune for this. How could he?” Moisture gathered in Tamsin’s eyes. “Mama was so ill. You begged him.”
Jordan shook his head, not willing to allow that particular wound to reopen. “Bentley was a terrible person, Tamsin.”
“And Miss Whitehall?” She wiped at one eye. “Is she as awful as we anticipated?”
“Suitable. She’s suitable.” He considered how much he should say to Tamsin and decided not to burden his sister. Tamsin might take it in her head to confront Whitehall or his daughter, which would never do. Jordan had made his decision. Signed the contract.
“The agreement is favorable to me,” he assured her. “We will wed at the end of next month after a short courtship.”
Chapter Ten
Odessa looked outover the park, turning her head so that she could discreetly push a bit of tar further against her bottom teeth. The tar, terrible tasting and sticky, had been applied after eating an onion along with a clove of garlic. Standing before the mirror in her room, Odessa had arranged the tar so that it appeared she possessed two rotting upper teeth and two below.
Aunt Lottie, after her initial disgust, advised remembering which teeth she’d put the tar on, in case she needed to do so again for Emerson’s benefit.
Impossible.He’d be horrified.
Her smile, once bestowed upon the troublesome, far too handsome earl, would be hideous. The smell of the onion and garlic so pungent, Emerson wouldn’t dare get too close. Even Aunt Lottie had kept her distance. The added precaution of rubbing an onion beneath each of her arms had been taken.
After the carriage ride, which Odessa prayed would be brief once Emerson caught sight of her teeth, she hoped he would deposit Aunt Lottie and her at home andneverreturn.
A bonnet, oversized, unfashionable, and ugly, had been donned and pulled tight around Odessa’s face in case Emerson’s carriage crossed paths with someone she knew. Captain Phillips was known to ride in the park, and it wouldn’t do for him to recognize her.
