“There are other heiresses in London, Aunt Lottie. The Season is not over. He would find one in an instant. Besides, Papa can hardlyforcean earl to wed me. What would he do? Hold a pistol to Emerson’s back?”
Aunt Lottie looked away, pretending great interest in the view of the garden. She said something under her breath and shook her head before once more facing Odessa. “Angus will not welcome a cavalry officer. Nor a barrister. Or a wealthy merchant, should those be your next options.”
“Tar, I think,” Odessa said, choosing to ignore the unwelcome feeling Aunt Lottie’s hesitation stirred in her about Papa. “That should do the trick. I don’t know why it took me so long to think of it.”
“Tar?”
“I was careful not to part my lips overmuch today.” Mainly to build up the reek of onion before breathing it on him. “He has not seen my teeth. But he will. And the tar will make them appear black with rot.”
Aunt Lottie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Odessa.”
“Few gentlemen want to see a wife with a mouth of rot across the breakfast table. Spoils the appetite. And I must eat a minimum of two onions. What do you think of garlic?”
“Aromatic.”
“I’ll be burping the entire carriage ride.”
“The other suitorswereterrible, dear. I concur. But—” Aunt Lottie waved her hand over Odessa’s thickened form. “Emerson seemed to want to know you better, even if it was out of politeness. You could do worse than a man willing to treat you kindly in spite of—your perceived deficits.”
“He wants to know my dowry better, not me. He’s as desperate as his brother only more masterful at hiding it. Andyoupromised to help,” Odessa reminded her aunt.
“I did. A decision I regret each time you eat an onion. But very well. The tar will need to be applied right before you come down to greet him. You’ll have to refrain from looking or smiling at any of the staff, even from a distance. I’ll get Burns out of the way before he catches a whiff of you, lest he report back to your father. He’s already curious. You’ll have to take great care, as the tar will slide off your teeth each time you speak.”
“The onion and garlic should keep him a good distance. I’ll be careful.”
“Even so, you must choose your smiles wisely.”
Odessa nudged her aunt with an elbow. “I knew you would agree. Papa would have wed me to Malfrey. Or the first Emerson. You avoided marrying your father’s choice for you. How can you expect me to do less?”
“The gentleman my father decided I should wed was a putrid turnip, Odessa. Legs like twigs and a bulbous body.” Aunt Lottie shivered. “Had he presented someone as splendid as Emerson, I might have agreed. Or as dashing as Captain Phillips.” Odessa nodded sagely. “Surely if a handsome cavalry officer called upon you—one who had engaged your affections—”
“I find it interesting that you continue to fixate on a man you barely know merely because he lacks a title and Angus Whitehall would never approve him.”
“That isn’t why—”
“I disagree. You have ascribed a host of character traits to Captain Phillips, all of which he may not possess. He becomes larger in your mind with each conversation. Your affections havebarelybeen roused.” Aunt Lottie took her hand. “I do understand what it is to be a young woman with no say in her own life. To feel forced into a situation not to your liking. Your father’s ambitions do not need to be yours. But I like Emerson, Angus’s choice or not.”
Odessa turned away. She refused to consider Emerson.
“I find him arrogant. And I will run away and join a traveling troupe of circus performers before wedding him.”
“Stubborn. You may need to do more than run away if your father catches wind of this scheme to replace an earl with a soldier. Be very careful, Odessa.”
Chapter Nine
“How was MissWhitehall? As horrid as you imagined?” Tamsin sat perched on the edge of the settee, back ramrod straight as if facing an execution. A tea tray sat before her with two cups. “I’m practicing decorum. Aurora and I have been properly sipping tea with a book balanced on our heads to ensure our posture is correct.”
“How did you do?” Jordan asked as he strolled further into the drawing room.
“Poorly. Aurora did much better, though she became bored. She decided to read the book perched on her head rather than use it to maintain a straight spine. I believe she escaped to the garden.”
Mrs. Cherry was firmly in charge of the kitchens and had taken on a kitchen maid in addition to the scullery maid left over from Bentley. An upstairs maid, Mrs. Cherry’s niece, had started just yesterday. But otherwise, Jordan’s staff was still woefully lacking. They didn’t even have a butler.
“Mrs. Cherry is a treasure,” Tamsin declared, biting into a biscuit. “These are divine, by the way. Drew declared himself in love after breakfast. Mrs. Cherry blushed like a schoolgirl. I doubt she’ll ever leave us.”
Thank goodness. Though Aurora had taken on kitchen duties in Dunnings, she wasn’t but a passing cook. Nor should an earl’s sister be found in the kitchens preparing cabbage soup.
“Oh, I found a butler.” Tamsin relaxed against the cushions. “Holly is his name. Hired him on the spot.”
