Page 67 of Sinfully Wed
Odessa straightened her shoulders, ready to bear whatever distaste Jordan hurled at her. She must. “My lord.”
Jordan’s eyes shifted to her aunt before nodding politely. “Miss Maplehurst, will you excuse Miss Whitehall and me for a moment?”
“Of course, Lord Emerson.” Aunt Lottie, never one to refuse a handsome man, blushed delightfully and scurried off. A cat appeared, a tabby this time, and trailed behind, swatting at her skirts. “I’ll be having tea in the drawing room.”
“How unexpected to find you here, my lord.” Odessa drank in the sight of him, dark hair curling about his temples, big and male, standing out dramatically against the stark white of the dowager’s statues.
He looks very angry.
Yes, of course he was angry. Furious, she imagined. He’d come all this way to tell her so. Rail at her a bit. Make himself feel better. She could hardly blame him for seeking out the source of so much unhappiness. Perhaps he’d come to inform Odessa he meant to spread the news all over London that he’d taken her virtue in a carriage. It was an excellent way to jab at Angus Whitehall. Destroy any future ambitions her father might be considering for Odessa.
Hayden has assured me I can live here forever as his spinster cousin.
Jordan took a step forward, strong fingers curling at his sides. “You jilted me. Left me at the altar, as they say.” The words rang against the marble. “Unacceptable, Odessa.”
“Well—I didn’t—”
Another step in her direction. Menacing. Jordan looked every inch an enraged pig farmer and not an earl at the moment. “You made me alaughingstockin London. I can barely show my face.”
“Well, you weren’t actually received before so—”
“You didn’t even have the decency to warn me,” he bit out. “Couldn’t spare a moment to write a bloody note. Have younothingto say for yourself?”
Why didn’t she ever listen to Aunt Lottie? She had said the gossips were mocking Jordan.
“I—That was not my intent, my lord.” She swallowed. “I only wanted to release you from Angus Whitehall.” The name soured in her mouth. “You must hate me.Iwould hate me.”
“I do not.”
Odessa didn’t believe him. “You should be relieved. Thrilled to be rid of me.” She paced a few feet away, well out of reach. Jordan had a temper. “If your concern is that our physical relationship—”
“You mean the tupping? Coupling? Bedding? Bending you over the settee in the drawing room?”
“Yes, my lord.” Heat seared her cheeks at the remembrance. “And there is no need to be crude. You may rest assured that any concerns you may have in that regard are without merit.” Odessa had her courses two days after arriving at Orchard Park. A relief. Of sorts. Given circumstances.
“I don’t know what is worse, Odessa.” He strode towards her, stretching those marvelous hands in her direction, his jaw taut. “Having you assume that I am so dishonorable that I wouldn’t wed a woman I’ve ruined or that you assume I did so only to get you with child and earn a bit of coin from your father. Do you think so little of me?”
“You were to receive an additional sum for each child I bore.” She was nearly shouting at Jordan. “It was in the contract. What else should I believe?” She held up her hands. “I don’t blame you, Jordan. Any man in your position would have done the same.”
Jordan’s nostrils flared, like a bull about to charge. “Don’t sayanotherword, Odessa.”
She placed a statue between herself and Jordan. “I know you are angry, Jordan. But you arefreeof me.”
“I don’t want to be free of you.” He tried to grab her. “I miss the smell of onions. I consider it an aphrodisiac. Tales of murdered husbands arouse me.”
Odessa paused and took a deep breath. She pressed a palm to her heart, which was fluttering about. “But Jordan, there is coal at Dunnings. You don’t need to wed me.”
“Not just coal, Odessa.Massiveamounts of coal. More than enough for two lifetimes. Makes your bloody dowry look like a pittance.” He flicked his wrist. “Admittedly, my reputation is still tarnished, owing to the fact I’ve been left at the altar and Lady Longwood going about calling me aDeadly Sin. But I have a lovely home on Bruton Street. Needs updating. Nothing crimson, please. Tamsin and Aurora are firmly under the tutelage of Miss Maplehurst, which I haven’t decided is wise. Drew hasn’t been shot yet for fleecing anyone at cards yet—”
“Don’t forget Malcolm,” she said quietly, winding her way towards him.
“I was getting to him. He’s alive and well in Paris. Or Venice. Shooting pistols and I’ve no idea what else. But you see the one thing I do not possess is a woman who breaks out in a rash if she eats a strawberry. A wife who will likely grind apple seeds into my biscuits one day if I annoy her. Or create beheaded wax figures in the kitchens and call doing so art.”
“Itisart.” Odessa took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers close over hers. “I’ll convince you one day.”
“I’ve resigned myself to seeing every obscure landmark in London even if it is only a church where a half-dozen actors are buried.”
“The resting place of Richard Burbage. He was the first actor to play MacBeth. I thought you would appreciate the sentiment.”
