She itched, rather impolitely, at the bump of wool over one hip.
Emerson didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, paid her no mind. Leading Odessa into the Whitehall gardens, which weren’t the least extravagant, he took a path curling about a willow tree. The bump at the end of her nose grew larger, begging for the tip of her nail. The wool tied over her backside slid around, tickling one leg.
Odessa glanced down, horrified to see one “lump” of flesh tilting down beneath her skirts as if one knee had suddenly grown in size.
Worst of all,everythingitched. Terribly. Like having hundreds of ants dancing over your skin.
“I don’t find your affliction that terrible.” Emerson patted her hand. “You merely look as if you’ve been in the sun for too long without a parasol.”
Odessa bit her tongue to keep from railing at him. Was he blind? She scratched at the end of her nose where the large bump at the end begged for her attention. “You don’t find my appearance to be unattractive, my lord? Forgive me, but I find that difficult to believe.”
“I admire your courage, Miss Whitehall.”
She resisted the urge to stomp on his foot. “You do?”
“Most young ladies would hide themselves away in shame, yet you have gamely decided to show me a part of yourself. If I must grow accustomed to the scent of onions, so be it, for I do not wish you to be in pain.” He patted her hand. “I think we should get on rather well.”
Damn him.
Impulsively, she itched at her ear before inserting a finger into her nose, digging away as if she’d discovered gold.Certainly, that would disgust him.
“I took your advice, Miss Whitehall.” He leaned closer and lime caught in her nostrils. “In taking my sisters to some unusual sights in London. Old Palace Yard. The Execution Dock.”
“They allowed the accused a pint of ale at Turk’s Head Inn before they were executed at the dock. And used a short rope to prolong the hanging,” Odessa informed him, unable to help herself.
“How grim.”
“You find me grotesque for my interests.” Maybe Odessa should have discarded the tar and instead focused on treating Emerson to the execution of traitors. Or torture, perhaps. Though he didn’t seem repulsed.
“Unusual. But it is refreshing to find a young lady with interests that are different from the usual reading, walking in the park, embroidery, and such.”
Of course he did.
“How did you come to be fascinated by such things, if I may ask?”
Odessa scratched again with enthusiasm. “I’m not entirely sure, my lord. My cousin is also interested in such oddities, though his tastes lean more towards dissection.”
Emerson’s eyes widened. She’d finally managed to shock him. Over Hayden’s habits, of all things. “I see.”
She didn’t bother to reassure him that Hayden’s dissections were performed exclusively on insects, not people. “I’m hardly suitable, my lord, to be a countess. My affliction,” she took the opportunity to flash a tiny smile at him, enough to show her blackened teeth, “and the steps I must take to avoid it make me a loner, of sorts. I would not want to add to the challenges your family already faces. You have two sisters who must come out.”
Surelythatwould give him pause. Odessa didn’t know much about Lord Emerson, but he’d spoken of his sisters with great affection and would surely not wish them to be hurt.
“Only the younger. I fear Tamsin is well past such an entrance. But do not fear, Miss Whitehall. I expect both my sisters will welcome you with open arms. I’ve already mentioned the wax exhibit to them both. Aurora is especially excited.”
Odessa nearly threw herself on the ground to roll about like a child in the throes of a tantrum. Nothing she did seemed to deter him.
“Won’t you wish to entertain, my lord? I can hardly welcome guests in such a condition.” Odessa jerked at the crawling sensation stretching across her stomach and thighs. The discomfort was growing by the moment.
“We’ll manage. I’ve never cared much for dinner parties.”
She struggled to keep from stomping her foot in frustration. “I fear,” Odessa failed to keep the hostility out of her voice, “I will be the most disappointing of wives, my lord.”
“I find you a most amusing companion.”
Odessa coughed as bit of the tar on her teeth stuck to her throat. That was the problem with the tar. It kept slipping off, and the taste was nearly worse than that of onions. “Is that why you sent me sweets?”
“I assumed you liked them.” A devastating grin crossed his lips. Unfortunately, Odessa was itching so much she couldn’t appreciate it. Emerson stopped, pulling her beneath the willow tree, the one spot in the entire garden that wasn’t completely in view of the drawing room.
