Page 34 of Sinfully Wed
Odessa’s opinion of titled lords and fine pedigrees had become firmly fixed after that first terrible ball hosted by Lord Norris. Stricken and alone, save for Aunt Lottie, horrified that no matter how expensively Odessa was dressed, every gentleman in attendance knew her to be Angus Whitehall’s daughter and beneath notice. No matter the obscene amount of her dowry. Even with such inducement, those gentlemen steadfastly turned their noses up at her. The rejection, the knowledge she would never be considered good enough for a bunch of fops, pained her. Odessa didn’twantthat sort of man, or any marriage offered out of desperation. One of coldness and financial gain. Chosen by her father.
It was a matter of principle.
“And your family, my lord.” Aunt Lottie asked. “Were they as enamored with pigs as you?”
“No, Miss Maplehurst. No one else had the least interest in my pigs.”
Mypigs. He wasn’t ashamed. Odessa found she liked that about him.
Stop liking him.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and she looked up, surprised to find they were in front of her father’s house once more. She’d been so engrossed in Lord Emerson and his stupid pigs she hadn’t paid the least attention to where they were.
Drat.
Two footmen rushed to the carriage to help her out. Thomas, the youngest, waved his hand in front of his nose when he caught wind of Odessa. His eyes widened at her thickened form, but wisely, after a stern look from Aunt Lottie, looked away.
“Thank you for the pleasure of your company.” Emerson nodded to Aunt Lottie. “Miss Maplehurst.” His gaze slid to Odessa. “Miss Whitehall.”
“My lord.” Odessa wobbled politely, not looking up until Emerson’s carriage rolled away. The itch from the wool had her twitching and the taste in her mouth, interspersed with bits of tar, was atrocious. And still, Emerson was undeterred.
“He is more desperate than I thought,” she said to her aunt.
“As I mentioned on his previous visit, Emerson may not be in any position to beg off. You should cease this foolishness. He is attractive. Intelligent. Not the least bit afraid of hard work if his pig farming is any indication.”
“And he is my father’s choice.”
“Stubborn.” Aunt Lottie took Odessa’s arm, rushing her up the steps. “Hurry to your room before Burns catches sight of you. Or worse, smells you. He’ll report back to your father. Thomas is already eyeing you with horror.” Her aunt gave Odessa a tiny shove between the shoulder blades. “And Emersonissuspicious,” she said in a low voice. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he guessed at your game. He is clever, far more than the others.”
Odessa hurried past her aunt and up the steps, shooing Thomas away with a stern look. As they entered the foyer, the sound of footsteps, Burns most likely, came from the direction of her father’s study. Could today become any worse? “Papa is home.”
“Go. I’ll delay Burns.” Aunt Lottie waved her hands. “Hurry.”
“I’ll need a strawberry,” Odessa said over her shoulder as she quickened her steps. “For the next time Emerson calls.”
Chapter Eleven
Rotted teeth. Anunfortunate skin condition, which only abated if she ate onions. A trunk like form full of fleshy hips and buttocks. He’d even caught a whiff of garlic on her breath today.
Incredibly unappealing.
Jordan drummed his fingers along the leather seats of his carriage and considered the almosttoorepulsive picture Miss Whitehall presented.
His future bride had taken the opportunity to smile broadly at Jordan a total of three times today, gleefully displaying the decay that waited if he dared kiss her. The sight, shocking at first, and combined with her breath, left no doubt that a bottle of whiskey would be required if he ever changed his mind about bedding her.
But the more he studied Miss Whitehall today, the morecuriousJordan became.
He’d made the decision, that in order to continue to deal with his future wife without showing overt disgust at her appearance and smell, Jordan should try to focus on what hedidfind appealing about her physically. Despite deciding to discard her after the wedding, Jordan had no desire to becruelto Miss Whitehall, even though his pigs smelled better than she did.
Miss Whitehall had lovely eyes. A mix of gray and blue. Unusual, to say the least.Thatwas something. He found her fascination with the macabre, wax figures, and gruesome scenery to be strangely interesting. At least it wasdifferent.
And her skin was creamy. Smooth. Like fresh milk.
Jordan’s brows drew together. There wasn’t any sign of the skin affliction she spoke of kept at bay by onions. Surely, there would be…scars or marks of some sort. Discoloration, perhaps.
These observations led him to stroll with her along the pond. When he started to speak of the traveling troupe of performers who came to River Crest every year, that’s when Jordan realized howthoroughlyhe was being duped.
The onions and garlic were merely diversion, meant to keep him from noticing Miss Whitehall’s graceful neck, unblemished cheeks, and the fact that she possessed onlyonechin.
