Page 45 of Sinfully Wed
“You used a strawberry. And that forced him to flee London?”
“The strawberry was quite large. The rash immediate.”
Hayden brought out his little book once more. “How big exactly? What was the duration of the rash?”
Odessa dutifully made a circle with her fingers. “About so big. Very juicy. The rash lasted two days but stopped itching after one.”
“Interesting.” He wrote something down, shut the notebook, and tucked it back into his pocket.
“I believe he means to beg off, though he hasn’t yet.” She frowned. “But I expect a note from him any day explaining our unsuitability. Papa will be most distressed.”
“Hmm.”
“I’ve decided to encourage Captain Phillips tonight since I will soon be without a suitor. Do you think Lady Curchon would be horribly distressed if I am compromised tonight? I plan to convince Phillips of the benefits of doing so. I must see to my ruination before Papa brings me yet another lord with empty pockets.”
“You’re far too brazen, Odessa. And I don’t care for Phillips.”
“So you’ve said. I don’t know why, Your Grace. He’s perfectly acceptable. Dashing. Not titled. The sort of man I find appealing.”
Hayden shrugged once more. “I’ve asked you not to call me that. Your Grace. Sounds ridiculous. I am the least graceful person I know.”
“Apologies,” Odessa murmured. Hayden had a point.
“Not all titled gentlemen are fops, Odessa. Look at me.” Hayden turned slowly, showing off his massively disheveled form. “In fact, I plucked anopisthograptis luteolatafrom the shoulder of such a titled gentleman earlier, who did not strike me as limp-wristed in the least. He mistakenly assumed my specimen to be a spider. Which is ridiculous.”
“How interesting.” Odessa’s eyes moved through the crowd. Hayden would drone on about moths forever if she allowed it. Where was Phillips? Now that she was sure she’d be rid of Emerson, time was of the essence.
Chapter Seventeen
Miss Whitehall wasat Lady Curchon’s. Related to a duke who liked to pluck insects off of the shoulders of gentlemen on the terrace. And looking for a cavalry officer by the name of Captain Phillips.
He’d been correct.
Should he come upon Miss Whitehall in an indelicate situation with this Captain Phillips, the evening might well end in a brawl. Not out of any sense of possessiveness towards Odessa, of course, only her dowry. Besides, Jordan hadn’t beaten anyone up since Spittal. A soldier might prove to be a challenge.
Jordan wandered back towards Tamsin who stood in a group of matrons at least three times her age, hands clasped, not bothering to hide her boredom.
“Why Lord Emerson, what a delight to see you this evening.” Miss Maplehurst’s sugary tone floated towards him. She was perched regally on the edge of a chair amid the small group clustered against the wall, silver curls bouncing at her temples. She shot Jordan a coquettish look. “It was my understanding you weren’t in London at present.”
“Miss Maplehurst.” He took her fingers and bowed, declining to answer the question. “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of my sister, Lady Tamsin.”
“Only moments ago.” Miss Maplehurst raised a brow. “Lady Tamsin quite reminds me of myself at that age, though I was more careful in showing my disinterest in those around me.” She gave Tamsin a sideways glance. “We’re going to be great friends, aren’t we, my lady?”
“Assuredly.” Tamsin’s reply was stiff. “Lady Curchon introduced us with the admonition that Miss Maplehurst may be of some assistance to me, given our…circumstances, though I noticed our hostess didn’t offer her own help.”
“My dear.” Miss Maplehurst patted Tamsin on the arm. “Lady Curchon has never cared for a challenge. Nor undue attention. She lacks courage. Not every lady is as bold as we are. I confess I am envious you possess such a scandalous moniker.Embraceit.”
Tamsin made a disgruntled sound.
“You’ll come around.” Miss Maplehurst turned back to Jordan. “My lord, though it would please me—” Miss Maplehurst’s eyes twinkled. “I doubt I am the quarry you seek. A wonderful ruse, pretending to leave town.”
“Miss Whitehall is not the only one capable of deceit.”
“True, my lord. You’ve proven yourself to be much more intelligent than your brother.”
Another sniff from Tamsin. “My horse has more sense than Bentley.”
“Don’t speak ill of the dead, dear.” Miss Maplehurst corrected her gently. “Though I believe your assumption is correct having been acquainted with the previous Lord Emerson. My lord, your search should continue on the other side of the room.” The snowy white head inclined in that direction. “Do you see the splash of red?” Her grin broadened. “Dashing things, those cavalry officers.”
