“You are quite lumpy.” Aunt Lottie shook her head. “And…savory. I worry that one of the servants will mention your appearance to Angus. Or he’ll catch sight of you himself.”
“Not today he won’t. Papa is in Manchester, if you’ll recall, which was why today is the perfect time to have Emerson visit.” She patted her hip with a frown, the onion taste rolling around her mouth. “All it took was my lumpy figure to deter the viscount and the story of Herr Keigal. The viscount—I can never recall his name—”
“Lindhaven.”
“Lindhaven possessed a weak constitution, and he fairly sprinted out of the drawing room after catching sight of my enormous, fleshy hips. I only recall that he was balding with yellowed teeth. Malfrey was far worse. That lisp, aunt.” Odessa made a disgusted sound. “I giggled every time he spoke. The way his gloved hands, barely larger than my own, fluttered about as he pontificated on every dull topic that came to mind. He tested the very limits of my patience. He insulted my interests.”
Aunt Lottie raised a brow. “Most young ladies prefer to pursue hobbies a little less macabre, Odessa. You can hardly blame Malfrey for asking why you couldn’t simply garden.”
“He learned quite a bit about the uses of belladonna.”
“While you belched onion at him, dear.”
“The onion causes stomach distress. I can’t help what escapes. Unexpected expulsions of gases are an added benefit.” Odessa turned once more in the mirror. Her figure was broad. Sturdy. Like the trunk of a tree. The flaps of her hips jutted out like a ridge just above her buttocks. The sheergirthhad made the last Lord Emerson avert his gaze, unable to look directly at her. “It is a sound strategy.”
“Unless your father becomes suspicious.”
“I only need banish this last unwelcome suitor.” Odessa puffed out a breath, making her aunt step away. “Emerson won’t come within two feet of me, not with the smell. If he peers too closely at my unappealing form or attempts overly polite conversation, I will put a stop to his efforts by burping at him. Getting an heir on me will be so repellant he won’t possibly consider wedding me.”
“What if you findthisEmerson appealing?”
“Based on Papa’s choices thus far, his only consideration in choosing me a husband seems to be a title, a pompous self-important personality, and the need of my dowry. I’m sure Emerson’s carefully trimmed hair will smell of some odorous pomade. I expect his shoulders to be padded to give him a manly form, as was the previous earl’s, his brother. His skin is bound to be softer than mine. At least I imagine his hands will be.”
“A gentleman’s hands should be the least of your concerns.”
“I have a weakness for such things.” Odessa’s fascination with the shape and size of a man’s hands stemmed from her adoration of a junior groom in her father’s employ when she was fifteen. Jacob had been his name. Upon seeing him shirtless, accidentally, Odessa had nearly fainted. She flirted relentlessly with Jacob, encouraging a forbidden kiss. Large, rough hands, nicely callused, had gripped her chin as he turned her lips to his. The smell of leather and hay had filled her nostrils. Odessa had even boldly run her hands down his chest, very nearly ruining herself in the process.
“Odessa.” Aunt Lottie snapped her fingers. “Your thoughts wander.”
Gentlemen didn’t possess such hands. Her taste in the male species had been very firmly formed after Jacob’s kiss. Men who got dirty. Earned the hardened muscles often glimpsed bulging beneath shirtsleeves and coats. The very thought of such…territory to explore made Odessa lightheaded. She could never settle on some titled dandy who barely had the strength to lift a glass to his lips.
“I find such gentlemen as Malfrey, Lindhurst, and the previous Emerson unappealing. Nor are such titled lords interested in me. Only my money. I would love to be a spinster, traveling about, visiting the world. Did you know there are catacombs in Paris? There are scores of bones stacked high beneath the city.”
“How lovely.” Aunt Lottie gave her a sympathetic look. “Another macabre oddity which fascinates you, which I’ve no desire to see. Nor does anyone else.”
“I do not wish a marriage of quiet loathing. Mama drifted about this very house, never laughing. Miserable.”
Aunt Lottie pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It wasn’t entirely loveless. Emily had you.”
“I would rather not wed at all, but if Imust, my husband should be of my choosing. I wish tolikethe man I wed. Have him bear me some affection. Not belittle my fascination with dreadful things or mysteries at large. Captain Phillips told me his family estate possesses a ghost.” She blinked at Aunt Lottie. “Can you imagine?”
Odessa also expected that Captain Phillips possessed lovely, rough, callused hands. His palms had been broad, fingers strong as he took her hand and led her to the dance floor. The scent of shaving soap and leather had emanated from him, with just a bit of horse.
Perfect.
“Captain Phillips? The soldier you danced with at Lady Curchon’s? Once? You barely know him.”
“He is a cavalry officer. Captain Phillips and I have much in common.” Or, at least, Odessa thought they might if he were permitted to court her. She may have also allowed the good captain to steal a kiss on the terrace at Lady Curchon’s. Bold of her, to be sure. But Odessa had been quite taken with him.
“The very same. Even you said he filled out his uniform well.”
“Well, yes, he does.” Aunt Lottie’s cheeks pinked. “But Angus wouldneverallow you to wed a soldier, even one who is as well-connected as Captain Phillips appears to be. He wants a title for you.”
“He will if there is no other choice.”
“One dance and a stolen kiss,” Aunt Lottie said, “does not constitute a courtship. If anything, Captain Phillips probably regards you as far too bold for allowing him to do so. You court ruination with such behavior.”
“Exactly.” Better than being wed to what seemed to be an endless assortment of desperate titles who only considered the daughter of Angus Whitehall because of their impending poverty.
