Page 37 of Sinfully Wed
She stared with no small amount of trepidation at the strawberry. One would never consider that such an innocent bit of fruit would cause an eruption of itching and pustules. A reaction first made known to Odessa when she was eight. Strawberries had decorated an elaborate sponge cake to be served for an infrequent and unwelcome visit from Mama’s relations. Wanting to avoid the entire afternoon since it would be spent with Odessa being looked down upon, and after being sternly instructed not to touch the sponge cake, Odessa plucked three strawberries off the top in defiance.
She was often defiant.
The itching, at first tolerable, became intense after a quarter hour. Small, pus-filled bumps spread rapidly over her skin. Mama gasped. Grandmother Maplehurst’s unkind wrinkled face frowned in distaste. Odessa was rushed to her room and a physician summoned. Only her cousin, Hayden, didn’t appear horrified. Instead, he started taking notes in a small book he always carried about. Later, he questioned her on the exact number of strawberries she’d eaten, the onset of the rash, and any other pertinent details.
Honestly, Hayden had been far more interested in Odessa’s condition than Dr. Crandall.
“That was years ago,” Aunt Lottie insisted. “You’ve no idea what could happen now.”
“I have some idea. And that wasn’t the last time I had to stoop to such tactics. Besides, Hayden assures me that one or two strawberries will cause a limited rash. He’s taken careful note over the years.”
“Hayden is not a physician. Or a scientist, though he claims to be one. A poor calling for a duke.”
“I agree. But he hasn’t always been a duke, has he?” Nor was he really Odessa’s cousin, though the two of them had formed a close bond as children. Easy to do when you were both considered far too odd to be of any importance. Upon hearing of Odessa’s obsession with murderous deeds and gruesome stories, something she wasn’t supposed to talk about, Hayden had been delighted and offered up several tales of his own.
“No. I suppose not.”
“He carefully transcribed what occurred when I ate exactly ten strawberries to frighten off Miss Flout.” Miss Flout had been the ill-tempered governess who Papa had taken on after the death of Odessa’s mother. She’d taken one look at Odessa’s sores and packed her things while Papa was on one of his business trips. The next time had been during Grandmother Maplehurst’s last visit. She’d ingested only six or seven at the time, careful to recount the entire episode to Hayden.
“I’m assured one strawberry will cause a rash, but it will persist only long enough to frighten away Lord Emerson.”
Strawberries were a weapon for Odessa. One of last resort.
“Foolish,” Aunt Lottie muttered.
“I have little choice. This might well be my last chance to avoid wedding Emerson. Phillips is sure to be at Lady Curchon’s party in a few weeks.”
“Yes, one of two invitations she issues to us each year. I can hardly wait.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, aunt.”
After their carriage ride and walk in the park, Lord Emerson, thankfully, disappeared for a time, declining to call on Odessa for over a week. She waited patiently, hovering outside Papa’s study door, for word that Emerson had visited and declined to pursue her further.
But then an enormous bouquet of flowers had arrived accompanied by a small box of sweets. A note, tied with red ribbon, was attached.
What harm could one more sweet cause? The flowers will brighten your drawing room.
“I’ve added an extra blanket today around my stomach, so Emerson can see the results of his gift. I may even blacken another tooth.” Odessa stalked across the room, pleased that the extra padding made it seem as if her buttocks were flapping when she walked. “The gall, to send a woman with rotten teeth a box of marzipan and chocolate drops.”
“Completely horrid of him,” Aunt Lottie agreed. “I’ll go down first and make sure Burns isn’t hovering about. He’s caught a whiff or two of your onion smell, but I convinced him Cook was experimenting with a new recipe. I’ll make up an errand for him. Something your father wishes him to do so he won’t refuse.” Her aunt paused. “I do not believe you are fooling him.”
“Burns? He pays me as little attention as possible. I’m sure he’s already informed Cook not to use so many onions.”
“Emerson. There was something in the way he looked at you during the carriage ride. He deliberately asked you not to eat an onion. He sent you sweets, Odessa.”
“Perhaps he’s as cruel as his brother. I’m certain he’ll take one look at me today and flee, as Miss Flout did. Pustules or onions, neither is a decent choice. The balls of London are littered with wealthy girls, Aunt Lottie. Beautiful ones. He’ll find another.”
Odessa made a puffing sound, eyeing the strawberry. The rash would need to be sufficient to keep Emerson away, as she would not be able to depend on the smell of onion. She had rubbed some garlic on her skin. It might help.
“I’ve told you of Emerson’s family. The scandal attached to his parents. He’s made enemies in theton. I don’t think thereareany other heiresses for him.”
“You’ve given me even more reason to not wish this marriage. One would think Papa would see the futility of this endeavor. It will not give him what he wants if Emerson’s poor reputation exceeds his own.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aunt Lottie mumbled under her breath.
Odessa gave her aunt a sharp glance. “What do you mean?” It was not the first time Aunt Lottie had made reference to Papa’s standing. Yes, it was poor, but that was because the snobs of society refused to look past his birth. Mama’s family had been well-respected, but even that hadn’t raised her father up.
“Nothing, dearest.” Aunt Lottie turned away.
