Appetites & Vices

by Felicia Grossman

  “Your relationship with your father is unique. He serves you, not the other way around. I’m sure there’s some reason why, but that’s not the way it’s usually done, especially not with sons, firstborn sons, sons with responsibilities to their families.”

  Can you not take anything seriously, Jay? Do you care about anything besides your own pleasure? How old had he been when his father first asked those questions? Seven?

  “Really?” She cocked her head. “So how do your trips to New Orleans and New York comport? Why were you permitted to fail out of multiple schools while Hugo has to give up everything that he wants?”

  New Orleans. She had to mention that city, the place he’d left his soul if he ever had one. He gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t ‘permitted to fail out of multiple schools.’ My parents weren’t pleased. We just had enough capital that it wasn’t a problem. Life isn’t fair, Ursula.”

  Why did she needle so much? She had no idea who he was or what his life was like. She had no responsibilities except to marry someone who wasn’t a complete imbecile and wouldn’t destroy one of the fastest growing banking empires in the world. More, she’d never failed anyone.

  His skin itched. Jay dug his nails into his palms so he didn’t scratch. Despite two years of going without, the moment he reached Delaware the sensation returned. He could smell it too, even if his father had burned every trace of the stuff in the Truitt properties, and, apparently, found everything he’d hidden. The temptation inflamed his senses. Despite his family’s precautions, he could obtain the substance his body craved. He still had sources. He’d have already gone to them if he hadn’t been so distracted by Ursula.

  “Says the man who always wins in that equation.” She pouted and pressed her face to the window, oblivious to his discomfort.

  The monkey shot him another glare before it nuzzled her cheek.

  He gripped at his trousers. “Your life will be satisfying, Ursula, even if you don’t marry Hugo Middleton. You’ll find someone. I’m sure someone of your own kind—”

  Her head whipped around. “My own kind?” Her voice rose an octave.

  Jay grimaced. Not exactly what he intended. What had gotten into him today? People were his strong suit, but with Ursula, she rubbed off on him instead of the other way around. Disastrous. The course needed to be righted and fast.

  “I beg your pardon, Ursula.” He forced himself to pause, breathe, think. “I meant that wouldn’t your father be happier if you married someone more like him?”

  “My father is special. But if you meant another Jew, possibly.”

  She fingered a golden tassel on one of the seat cushions. “I don’t really know. My parents were never really part of the community. We pray in the morning, light candles, don’t eat pork, fast on certain days, but for us it’s more a lack of engaging in activities that people who aren’t Jews do.”

  No pork? How tragic. Jay licked his lips in honor of his morning ham.

  “We limited our interactions with the community in Philadelphia, though my uncle is very involved. It all had something to do with my mother not getting along with my father’s family. They didn’t like her or she didn’t like them.” She frowned. “No one ever told me the whole story.”

  A secret. Jay stifled a gasp. “And you never asked?”

  He would’ve inquired until his father sent him to bed without supper, after which he would’ve broken into every office the man owned searching for the truth. Considering how much she’d recalled about him, a mere acquaintance who’d left Delaware when she was still a child, how could she not have studied and analyzed every detail of her parents’ lives?

  There was a catch again in Ursula’s voice. “My mother was always ill and when she was gone it didn’t really matter any longer.”

  Didn’t it? How could Ursula be so uncurious about her own family—her own life? Though, if her mother was sick, maybe she was preoccupied. “How long ago did she die?”

  “Seven years.” Ursula stroked the cat, her hand running over the creature’s ears. Her swallow was visible. “A cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.” The reply was automatic, but true. Whatever troubles he had with his own parents, at least they both were present.

  He picked his brain for memories of Ursula’s mother. A vague image of a woman with ash-colored curls popped into his head. He’d been home, in between schools, and overheard a conversation between his aunts regarding the late Mrs. Nunes, and not a complimentary one, as it centered on the woman’s rather prominent bosom. Well, Ursula had inherited one feature from her.

  Where did Ursula get the blonde hair though? Her father was so dark. She possessed his mannerisms, that was certain—particularly the obnoxious ones.

  As if she could hear his thoughts, Ursula waved a hand at him. “It’s fine. I feel terrible for my father though. He’s all alone.”

  Jay pictured Nunes’ smirk at his predicament and, widower or not, he couldn’t quite muster the requisite sympathy for the man to consider him “poor.”

  “You desire to give him grandchildren?” Was pleasing him why Ursula was so bent on marriage to Hugo?

  “Perhaps. I don’t know. I’m not sure what will improve his life or mine. I’m twenty-one so I suppose I only have so much time.”

  Her cloak slipped down her shoulders, rewarding him with a view at last.

  What sort of woman already talked like a jaded widow this early in the season? She was a mystery.

  “How romantic. Hugo must be so flattered,” he said.

  “I adore Hugo. He’s the only person in Delaware, other than my parents, who never mocked me. When we were little, I was at one of his cousins’ for tea and I was in the garden crying because a few of the other girls, well—” Ursula swallowed again. “My mother dressed me. I always thought her beautiful, though looking back on it, she never was quite in fashion.”

  Ursula wrinkled her brow. “I also might have fibbed a little so to not look foolish and really, how was I supposed to know that a kaleidoscope wasn’t a medical device and...”

  Oh, why did she have to do that? Why did she have to be human too?

  “Lot of tears?” he asked.

  “Only after I screamed at them, called them a whole host of improper names that gentiles are particular about, and, perhaps, threw a chafing dish.”

  Ursula smiled, though her eyes glimmered a bit too bright. “But Hugo wandered into the garden and sat with me and we talked. He read the same books I read. We were both thrilled by Fourier’s Analyse des equations determines, and I’m not sure, after that we found excuses to sit with each other and just read or discuss topics that matter.”

  And that was the thing of it, wasn’t it? They were friends. That explained so much. An odd friendship, but Hugo was so meek, studious, and quiet that people often forgot he existed. Ursula was probably one of the only people who even noticed him.

  Jay frowned. Before he could say anything more Ursula released a loud sigh. She fished a leather-bound volume out of her valise and flipped through the pages, twisting her mouth to the side again and tugging at a curl.

  Odd, but endearing.

  Why did those two words always pop into his head when he watched her? She wound the curl harder as she became more and more engrossed. The cat gave him a warning hiss. He bared his teeth back at her. Ridiculous beast. Ursula didn’t even notice. Now he was curious.

  “What are you reading?” he asked.

  She paused but didn’t meet his eye. “Just the books for one of the companies Nunes invested in. We only have a small stake, but I like to personally verify the summaries we receive. We get sent copies of the books every three months.”

  She gestured as she explained, knocking the window so the monkey shuddered. Her voice grew in volume and enthusiasm though she still didn’t lift her head. Was it so interesting she wouldn’t even look at him? What was the m
atter with her?

  “Don’t you have a bookkeeper?” he asked.

  “He reviews it first. I study it second.” She waved a hand, dismissing him. She was serious. A balance sheet, with numbers, beat him, Jay Truitt, for her attention.

  Jay caught the maid’s eye. Her lips pressed together as if to hold in laughter. He returned his gaze to the top of Ursula’s head.

  “Do you find mistakes?”

  “Sometimes.” She ran her pointer finger over each line. “Those usually are found in the books of the charities we support. Those bookkeepers aren’t well paid, despite my suggestions.”

  His lip curled at the image of her arguing with bored society ladies over what to pay charitable staff. That must go well.

  She didn’t wait for a verbal response. “It’s more to know if we want to increase our investment or cut our losses. If there are suggestions to be made, I write them down for my father and he writes to the companies. Sometimes they take the suggestions, sometimes they don’t, but I watch. The bank is the primary source of income, but I’d like to carve out alternative sources, make the investment wing of Nunes really thrive.”

  The more Ursula spoke, the faster and more animated her voice grew. Her head, though, remained down, her eyes on the drab white pages in her lap, all her pretty features obscured.

  “Do you ever make eye contact when you speak?” He almost covered his mouth. Why was her bluntness so contagious?

  She lifted her chin and bright blue eyes glistened. Topaz, no sapphire, no something more brilliant nature hadn’t yet discovered. Jay’s breath hitched. All that passion. She was breathtaking.

  “I’m not skilled at eye contact. Besides, I’m concentrating.” Down went her head again, the light hidden once more.

  “Fair enough. I suppose I should’ve brought some reading material,” he said.

  “Oh, you know how?”

  His mouth flew open. What had he done to deserve the immediate insult? And more, how did Ursula, with all her social ineptitude, know exactly where to land her blow?

  I’d like an explanation of these marks, Jay. Are you stupid, lazy, or plain disrespectful?

  Dizzy, Jay willed down the echoes of his father.

  “Have I offended you?” He sought mildness, but his tone crept into a hostile classification. He clasped his hands. Natural emotional matching, that’s all.

  Ursula paused. Her brow knitted and her mouth pursed, twisted to the side in a strange but adorable expression. “No, not at all, at least not today, well at least not a great deal. The other night, you treated me like I was desperate—”

  Jay raised an eyebrow.

  The cat on her lap stiffened and she stroked the beast’s head. “I could’ve found a plan myself. You’re making matters easier, but I would’ve succeeded on my own. You and I are just different. You don’t offend me, but I just can’t imagine either of us ever speaking to each other if it wasn’t for this plot.”

  She was a puzzlement. How to respond? Everything she said was true or should be true, but the recitation, in that calm, assured tone mangled something deep inside his gut.

  They hit another bump, and his head connected with the velvet-lined ceiling again. If not for the showy fabric, he’d have passed out. Flamboyance had its perks.

  Jay winced through all the discomfort. “That’s fair. Though, I suppose, we’re going to be forced to spend quite a bit of time together these next few weeks, and since we’ve agreed on no physical enjoyment, I’d at least hoped we could try for some decent conversation.”

  A wry smile spread over her face at the mention of carnality.

  “I’m not sure what we shall converse about, Mr. Truitt, at least for an extended period of time, but speaking with you isn’t a chore. You may not be an intellectual man, but you’re amusing, almost adroit in your dialogue.” She nodded and her smile turned warm because...mercy, that was a compliment. A generous one too—at least in her mind.

  Good lord.

  Jay threw his head back and did the only thing he could do. He laughed. He laughed so hard Hecate screeched, and Artemis hissed, but he paid them no heed. He just couldn’t stop.

  Tears swarmed in his eyes. He should check himself back into the asylum, it would be easier. He was about to make a similar quip, without the confession, when another sound surprised him. Ursula had joined him, hers a loud, full giggle, and damned if that wasn’t the best sound he’d ever heard. He closed his eyes.

  Wonders never did cease.

  Chapter Four

  The three-hour, thirty-mile ride to Philadelphia was much more pleasant than anticipated. True, Ursula wasn’t able to go through as much of the books as she’d scheduled, but who knew Jay Truitt could be entertaining? He’d been to so many interesting places: Paris, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Cairo. She tapped her chin. Well, if one thought about it, he, himself, wasn’t entertaining, more his lifestyle. Though he could tell a story and had witty turns of phrase.

  Outside the carriage, she stared at the house in dread. Almost half a city block in size and six stories, just off Delancey Street. It wasn’t ugly, just forbidding. The residents’ disdain for her mother—and by extension, her—wafted off the sedate bricks. So much silence, so many glares.

  Why did Jay’s expression have to be so curious when she explained? Or didn’t explain. Because she couldn’t. Because her parents and their past were a mystery. Because reading people might never have been her strong suit, but the air around some topics was too thick, too melancholy, too ominous to traverse. Besides, what did it matter now anyway? Her mother was gone. And never coming back. And without her father...no, she’d be married before that happened.

  Rose fiddled with Ursula’s collar and smoothed her immaculate skirt one last time. No doubt every inch of her was flawless. The maid was good.

  If only Rose could attend all the parties too, be her companion, her friend. She twisted her pendant. The pink topaz had been one her mother’s favorites. The gold flowers and ribbon detail had glowed against her hair. She’d been so lovely. Why did she have to leave them?

  Now though, she’d get to experience the power of the Truitt name, at least for a little while and after that, the Middleton one forever. No one would snub her again. She should be excited.

  Footmen retrieved their bags, and the butler ushered them inside, towards the parlor where a series of servants hurried about opening shutters to permit the cool night air inside the room.

  Her father, having arrived earlier in the day to meet with their lawyers, rose from a heavy, over-carved, near-black armchair and kissed her on the cheek. Ursula closed her eyes. Safe. Her father would make things all right once more, would protect her.

  He shook Jay’s hand. A sheen glistened on her faux fiancé’s brow and her father reached for his handkerchief the moment he released. So someone else developed Hugo’s malady. At least she wasn’t the most out-of-place person in the room, for once.

  Judah indicated two young girls, in their late teens, side by side on a deep crimson and yellow silk chaise. The smaller of the two had the same coloring as her father and her aunt—her cousin, Rachel. She was much prettier and softer than the elder Nuneses. Her jet hair and smooth skin shone onyx and pearl, while her deep brown eyes held an almost sweet expression.

  The other girl was a different story. Taller and thinner, she possessed a pinched, pink mouth and small eyes that darted from side to side, though most frequently fell on Ursula, well, at least on her neckline.

  She shan’t blush, she wouldn’t give the girl the satisfaction. She was what she was, right or wrong, though no matter what she did, she usually lost in that assessment. But why? The dress was of the latest style. Still, Ursula moved to the side, behind Jay’s arm, to keep the most prominent part of her anatomy out of view.

  “Mr. Truitt, please meet my niece, Rachel, and her friend, Lydia. My nephew, Isaac,
is about, somewhere, and my brother-in-law will return after the men at Mikveh Israel tire of his browbeating and adjourn their committee meeting,” her father said.

  Ursula swallowed. Uncle Bernard. Why couldn’t he be in Newport with her aunt and older cousin and the new baby? The way he asked questions with no correct answers...hopefully he had quite a few gatherings at his beloved hundred-year-old synagogue scheduled over the next few weeks, so she could avoid him altogether.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jay bowed and flashed an almost princely smile. He certainly enjoyed showing off his skill set. She folded her arms before forcing them to her sides.

  No reaction, no weakness. Weakness invites predators.

  Why was the only safe place her father’s house? Or alone somewhere with Hugo? Or...well...she wasn’t safe, per se...but in the carriage, with Jay...there wasn’t malice, for once. And no games she’d never win.

  Her father shifted on his feet. “You and Ursula must be tired and hungry. The staff has leftover supper for you. I’m sure the young ladies can keep you company while you eat.”

  Was he joking? She barely knew Rachel and this Lydia girl—he had to notice the expressions, the glares that always followed, like the ones directed at her mother. It was as if everyone could see the Nunes women weren’t quite right, weren’t quite what they were supposed to be.

  Ursula tucked her thumbs into her fists and followed Jay to a settee.

  He beamed another irritating, full teeth-showing grin at both younger girls, while a maid handed him stew. He nodded in thanks, never taking his eyes off the two people across from him, like they were the only ones in the room. “How is the season going for you?”

  Rachel lowered her gaze and blushed, but Lydia released a full, horse-like laugh.

  “Oh Mr. Truitt, you’re too kind. Rachel and I aren’t old enough to be thinking about anything like that, though there was a Jewish debut here in Philadelphia this year. Now, though, we’re much more concerned with our school work and some of the local charities.”