Appetites & Vices

by Felicia Grossman

Jay frowned. No, she’d made a beeline for the plan. Hugo was part of the plan.

  The asinine part of the plan.

  He wandered around the party, aimless, carrying both flutes like a dolt. He downed the first and laid it on a tray. As he was about to make quick work of the second, a deep voice whispered in his ear.

  “Upstairs, to the left, three doors down.”

  Jay jolted and gazed downward at the retreating back of Judah Nunes. The crowd swallowed Ursula’s father before he could form a question to ask. The mystery man strikes again, though at least wrangling the invitation for his faux future father-in-law to serve as chaperone had some benefits. Everyone should have a second pair of eyes.

  Though whether Judah was friend or foe was still undetermined. The memory of the man’s eyes on him, not his daughter, when she relayed her Hugo-marrying-strategy...he—Ursula—both of them, were the subject of some sort of plot, though damned if he knew what or why. Still, he should go up. If not, the festivities would become even more tedious.

  Jay clutched both the rail and the wall as he took the steps of the polished wood spiral staircase two at a time. He twisted the knob of the indicated door. Ursula and Hugo wouldn’t be engaged in—no, impossible. She’d probably be dictating a contract to him. He chuckled, pressed forward and his mouth dropped open.

  Hugo was draped over the back of an armchair, chin in hands, while Ursula sat at a blonde wood spinet. His eyes grew wide as he focused on the sound. She was fantastic, natural. Who’d have thought little-miss-balance-sheet could do anything remotely artistic?

  He’d never heard the piece, but the notes spoke to him. If he could add a harmony, right below her notes... Jay strolled to the bench and sat next to her, sliding his hands over the keys.

  Ursula tilted her head and frowned, but as he played on, joining with her, the corners of her lips turned upwards. She bent towards the keys and the music swirled around them, their hands crossing and melding.

  Everything in Jay’s mind stilled as his heart, the breath in his lungs, the blood in his veins, pumped in time with her, with it.

  He’d never played with anyone else before, only picked out tunes as a party trick. The connection, from his ears to his chest to his stomach, everything flowed and synchronized with the sound, with Ursula. For an instant, it was as if both were one.

  The sound stopped, she’d finished. Ursula raised her chin, her lips parted. Her blazing morning glory eyes beckoned. Bewitched, he leaned down, his hand reaching of its own accord and—

  “I didn’t know you knew how to play.” Hugo’s voice interrupted the moment.

  “I just have an ear.” Jay swiveled around to face the younger man. Perhaps Hugo wasn’t so inconsequential after all.

  Ursula cleared her throat. “You have a very good ear. Have you heard Robert le diable?”

  “No.” A smile tugged on his lips.

  “That’s extraordinary.” Her astonishment was genuine. “My ear is fine. My aptitude is for patterns and numbers so once I hear something I can play it, but being able to arrive, while a piece you’ve never heard has already begun—that’s incredible, Jay.” Sincere, and not one harsh note. One would’ve thought the words were spoken by an entirely different woman.

  “Yes, it is.” Hugo’s voice was flat.

  Someone wasn’t impressed. Time to avoid the awkwardness. Jay stood and extended a hand to Ursula. Which she didn’t even notice. Consarn it.

  “We should be seen together.” Jay encircled her wrist and pulled. “We’re engaged, after all.”

  She nodded, not meeting his eye, focused still on Hugo.

  “He’s right. You’ll call on us, and we’ll all discuss the plan I explained in more detail,” she said.

  Before Hugo could cause her to linger, Jay tugged at her arm, harder. Why was she so bloody slow all of a sudden? She rose, and he dragged her into the dark, narrow hall.

  “What was that about?” Ursula squinted at him, as if she had no idea what happened in the room.

  Why did that make him want to shake her so much?

  Jay gripped her hand tighter as they moved through partygoers, back down the stairs, towards the dancing. The scheme called for a bigger and better show.

  “We have to make a few appearances, or we’ll fail.” His voice contained an unintended edge.

  “I’m not sure it’s that dire.” She pouted as he led her onto the floor. “Certainly not enough to risk breaking my neck on those stairs. Besides, you’re the one who disappeared on me earlier. If Hugo hadn’t come along I would’ve ruined the plan as Priscilla Reed and her priggish cousin were needling me.”

  “Needling you?” The way that Lydia did? Though if Priscilla Reed was the instigator—he grimaced before bowing and taking both her hands again.

  “They hate me and they were spouting rumors to goad me into doing something foolish.” She shook her head as she started to match his steps. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Jay twirled her, her skirts brushing his ankles to the music. She wasn’t a bad partner. He’d expected a lot worse. He’d assumed she’d try to lead or purposefully step on his toes, but no, she was flawless and uninhibited, like she was at the spinet.

  “You’re a good dancer,” he said.

  “You sound surprised.” Ursula rounded behind him.

  “I’m not, I’m—it’s just I thought you were more serious, more—”

  “Dull?” Her mouth turned rueful. “Just because I enjoy business and numbers doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy anything else. I’ve attended plenty of cotillions and when I developed these, the male set took a mild interest.”

  To his complete astonishment, she indicated to her bosom.

  “They wouldn’t necessarily speak to me and never wanted to be seen with me off the floor, but dance...” She bit her lip and flashed the falsest of grins.

  She was far more self-aware than he gave her credit for, despite the display with her cousins.

  “They’d be nicer to you if you flattered them more,” he said.

  The music picked up. Her skirt swirled, revealing a hint of dainty ankles. “At this point it doesn’t matter. I’m who I was when I was six in their eyes, now they just have a larger forum to rehash the past. I’ve really become used to it. Why would I want to talk to them in the first place? They don’t read what I read or have anything interesting to say. They have no idea what’s going on in the world. Nothing in common whatsoever.”

  Or perhaps not so self-aware. The catch was so clear in her voice, a pang of sympathy rippled through him. On instinct, he pulled her closer than the music demanded.

  “Not that you’re an ideal conversationalist either,” Ursula continued. “I mean, when was the last time you read a book?”

  And the pang was gone. He swung her as far from his body as possible on the next turn. Less talking, excellent. He’d just pretend she was a mute. She made him dizzier than the music. How could one person tug at his heartstrings and make him want to strangle her in the same measure?

  The couples swayed and whirled on the floor, exchanging with the pair to the right. The blonde was familiar, pale and washed-out next to Ursula, but still pretty in a diaphanous way.

  Jay narrowed his eyes and searched her face every time she passed. He knew her, somehow. He had to place her, or it would drive him mad. He stared and stared until he caught a glimpse of Ursula scowling at him.

  “Who is she?” she asked.

  “Damned if I know. We’ve met, but I can’t quite place her.”

  “Reason number two hundred and fifty-seven why I shall never permit you to touch me.” Ursula’s whisper was loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear.

  The woman glanced in his direction with a smirk.

  How could he not remember? The stuff didn’t do that much damage to his mind, did it?

  Pale hair, s
weet features with a little bit of naughty—Carolina Wilson. That was it. He’d spent a few days in her company two summers ago, right before he needed a bit more than her ministrations could provide, so much more that his parents snatched him away so fast he never said goodbye before they sent him away. No. Best to avoid those memories and focus on those of the woman.

  Jay rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he searched the haze in his mind. Carolina, Carolina...decent conversationalist, fair energy, discreet, except for one small flaw...

  A high-pitched, half shriek, half snort broke through the air as the music ended.

  “Jay Truitt.” The woman reached both hands towards him.

  He swallowed. “Carolina, how lovely to see you, it’s been—”

  Silk rustled and batted his leg as Ursula scooted next to him. She threaded her arm through his. Interesting. He retracted himself from Carolina’s embrace.

  “This is Ursula, Ursula Nunes.”

  “His fiancée.” Ursula thrust a hand towards Carolina, the one with his aunt’s ring, an additional prop he’d given her that afternoon while her uncle glared.

  “Congratulations.” Carolina’s smile was wide for a moment before it collapsed, giving her a pinched expression, wrinkles sprouting on the ridge of her nose. “Ursula and I met when we were younger. Is your family still living in Delaware? I remember it being so quaint, such a vacation from Philadelphia. I’ll have to take a rest there sometime, between all the committees I’m on and all the parties I’m invited to, I’m exhausted. It must be so nice to not have to worry about any of those things. How’s your mother? I can see you have her fashion sense.”

  Ursula’s nostrils flared. Jay squeezed her hand. This was bad, very, very bad, but even he with all his diplomacy could not see any way to prevent—

  “My mother is deceased, though while she was alive she was very involved in creating beauty. I do suppose I’m much better rested than you. Having my future assured keeps me very content.” She burrowed her body closer to his. “I feel so fortunate.”

  “Yes.” Carolina sniffed. “Jay has such discerning taste, you must be very special or very, very, very willing.” She eyed Ursula’s chest. “I’m guessing the latter. I’m sure the fortune does help as well. Money and desperation can turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. Deepest sympathies regarding your mother though, she was an...interesting woman.”

  Jay’s mind whirled. Had Ursula’s mother had two heads? Scales and fins?

  Carolina flounced away in a whirl of blue taffeta, leaving Ursula in her wake. The younger woman pursed her lips as her eyes darted from side to side as if ruminating on a mathematical equation.

  “She insulted you.” He blinked because by right, Carolina’s ire should’ve been directed towards him. After all, he was the one who ended things. Badly.

  “I know that. She insulted my mother too. I should sock her. If we were men, I would bloody her nose,” she snapped. “I’m also pretty sure she impugned my virtue and character as well as yours. Yes, I’m better with numbers rather than people, but I’m not a dolt. It’s just that...”

  “It’s just what?” All questions of Ursula’s mer-mother vanished as the present became more perilous. He was half-curious, half-dreading what would come out of his faux fiancée’s mouth. A confused Ursula was a dangerous Ursula.

  He strolled her over to the refreshment table. She filled a plate with crème puffs and blueberry tarts. After grabbing two more champagne flutes, he followed her down the hall, into an empty study. He sank into a leather chair holding a glass in each hand while she leaned against a shelf, stuffing sugar into her mouth in the most delectable way possible.

  “I suppose that—” She managed to get the words out between chews. “You and Carolina engaged in some sort of—let’s call it contact, the same sort of contact that she implied you and I have had, and thus, if all three of us have...” Powdered sugar dotted her lips and three lines appeared on her brow, as if she was concentrating.

  He paused, parsing her words. A specific image associated with the words “all three of us,” formed in his head. That’d never happen, not just because Ursula’d balk, but no scenario existed in which Carolina wouldn’t attempt to murder his faux fiancée. Ursula would clobber her in the end, but the entire matter would be rather bloody and not worth the trouble.

  He sighed.

  How in the world to answer the questions?

  “I believe she’s implying that the two of us dabbled in certain activities that she refused to even consider.” He strolled over and dabbed the sugar.

  Mercy, those lips were beautiful. If only they didn’t move so much. Though, truth be told, being with Ursula made this the most exciting evening he’d had in a long time, at least while fully clothed.

  She snatched her flute from him and took a small sip. “What sort of things?”

  Jay choked. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I do.” Ursula cocked her head.

  She couldn’t be serious. He swallowed the remaining liquid in his glass while she stayed silent.

  He couldn’t help but swallow the bait. “Why?”

  She shrugged, her sleeves slipping further down her smooth, shapely shoulders. “I’m curious. I’m not sure what the fuss is about. I understand that there must be some pleasure in it, but there are quite a few risks are there not? There’s disease and illegitimate children, and I know you’ve had quite a few dance partners, but is it really worth the potential consequences?”

  If he had any liquid in his mouth he would’ve spit it out. Yes to the risk—he understood that better than anyone, but to the rest? She had to be joking. Yet those big blue eyes were wide and guileless and aimed right at him, begging for an explanation. He was in trouble. A brief image of Judah Nunes’ fist slamming into his jaw flashed in his mind.

  No, the man wasn’t like that. He’d just attempt to ruin him financially; that was actually a possibility because no matter how much money his family had, he’d bet on the cunning of both the man on the stairs, and the blonde in the library.

  “I’d say, if done correctly, it can be very pleasurable. There are also ways to prevent disease and pregnancy. Condoms, for one.”

  Good answer, Jay. Focus on imparting important, yet impersonal information. Really, everyone should know about protection. He was doing her a favor.

  “What are condoms?” Her eyebrows rose.

  “A protective coating for the male anatomy, usually made of animal skin. My father’s friend Charles made some recent improvements—rubber, like in shoes, made with a new process called ‘vulcanization.’ He’s looking for a patent. I have some prototypes.”

  Why did he just tell her that?

  “A patent? An improvement on a device which will prevent both pregnancy and disease, but permit people to do things which are enjoyable?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “You’re skeptical.” Understandable, as rubber could be so unreliable. But he’d been promised the new version was safe and consistent at all temperatures.

  She cocked her head. “Of the device, no. I’d love to invest. Whatever else is done, that’s another story.”

  His eyebrow shot up. Whatever else is done? Did she not know?

  “Has anyone explained what’s involved?” Tarnation. He should be the one to become a mute.

  This conversation was madness. And yet, the way she spoke about it was so amusing and intriguing. Also, she wanted to invest. Typical that little-miss-do-the-books-for-fun’s mind would go there. How tragic. Though, Mr. Goodyear would appreciate some Nunes funding.

  Ursula waved a hand at him and paced towards the far side of the room.

  “My mother explained what goes where, warned me of the consequences, and told me not to engage in that conduct until I’m married. She said I didn’t need to try anything beforehand as uneducated people could accomplish the task just
as well as educated.”

  He resisted slapping his hand over his forehead. Possibly the worst advice ever spoken. Though, based on those expectations, she’d probably be perfectly satisfied with Hugo. Why was the idea so depressing?

  “You don’t agree?” She had moved back towards him.

  He leaned against a rail. She matched his posture, right next to him. Her position wasn’t provocative in any way, but for some ridiculous reason that made her more alluring. Perhaps it was the swath of skin so close again—the scent of lavender and some sweet, tart fruit, like cherries tickling his nose... How could he possibly discuss this with her?

  He furrowed his brow. He couldn’t lie, not when she gave him that curious expression, the one that was so open and artless, as if she had no agenda but to gain knowledge. Dangerous. To him and to herself.

  “Any man can be mildly satisfied. Women though, that takes experience and skill.”

  “From both sides?” She’d screwed her lips to the side.

  Trouble, terrible trouble. “Perhaps, at least from the male. There are also activities that feel very good, for both sides, that will not get one pregnant.”

  “What did you do with Carolina?”

  This had to be a nightmare. He pinched himself. Not happening, could not be happening.

  “That’s an impolite question,” he managed to stammer.

  “But an interesting one.” She smiled at him, a genuine smile at her own joke, her first real smile of the evening.

  His heart swelled—as did a few other unfortunate body parts. How could he react to her like this, clothed? Amateur was never his style—experience had been chief among Sophie’s charms, though the way they ended...

  He was all muddled. What to do, what to do?

  “I’ve developed certain rules regarding liaisons,” he managed to say. Excellent start, vague. Vague should be his aim. He could give her both honesty and propriety, while protecting his own secrets if his answers remained vague. “I take precautions for unintended consequences, I make sure both parties agree to and enjoy every action, and I define the duration at the outset.”