Appetites & Vices

by Felicia Grossman

It was the least he could do. Too late for Sophie, but despite his other sins, he kept everyone afterwards safe.

  Ursula nodded. “I’m impressed. Those are perfectly reasonable and respectable terms.” She gazed at him with serious eyes.

  He burst into laughter. “Reasonable and respectable?”

  “Despite the subject matter of the engagement, your conditions are well-thought-out and ethical. There may be hope for you in business yet, Mr. Truitt.” She sashayed past him.

  He stared at the stunning back view, dumbstruck. Whatever did she mean? He scurried after her and managed to relay something that sounded like words. She either heard and ignored or didn’t hear at all.

  “Come along,” she called without turning around. “Dance with me a few more times before we have to leave. Perhaps have another drink.”

  He followed, shaking his head. He’d make it a double.

  Chapter Six

  Ursula hid behind a Doric column in front of the house as her father called for the carriage. Jay’d been dispatched to fetch their cloaks. The lights and noise of the party sprinkled through the still air from the open windows behind her.

  A proper woman would wait inside, but she didn’t want to risk another encounter with her own sex, alone. Why couldn’t they like her? She had all the attributes she was supposed to, but somehow they never fit right on her. She was never what anyone wanted. The space beneath her pearl-edged cameo burned.

  “Ursula. Thank goodness you’re alone.”

  She whipped her head around. Hugo stood behind her, half hidden in shadow. She grabbed her skirts and turned to face him, her back pressed against the white stone.

  “What are you doing out here? You should be with your parents, saying your goodbyes.”

  He clasped his hands together. “I had to see you again before we parted.”

  Her heart pounded. Hugo seeking her out, not the other way around, and not just to escape, to spend time with her and to risk his father’s wrath? Was she close to success already?

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I need you to confirm you still want to go through with this, that your engagement truly is a farce.”

  That’s why he sought her out? Men were so thick.

  “Of course I’m still part of the pact. I already told you, Jay just wants to travel and become a ne’er-do-well or indulge in that kind of behavior. He doesn’t want to get married to anyone. You have nothing to worry about.” Honestly, why did everyone doubt her?

  “Really?” He inched close to her face, his eyes intense.

  Was he angry? That wasn’t possible. Hugo never got angry. Melancholy, doleful, but never angry.

  “Why else would he have offered his aid? I created the initial plan to come to Philadelphia so we can win over your parents.” She flounced her skirts to punctuate the point because, honestly, what did it take to make Hugo understand? “Jay merely helped refine it. You don’t approve? This is the best way to get what we want.”

  Hugo’s nostrils flared. Why did he still look so sore? Ursula squinted. Her eyes must be deceiving her. If only she could rub them without smudging soot everywhere.

  He sighed. “I apologize. I just—this is all so confusing and not how I would’ve planned it.”

  “We don’t have much choice.” What did he expect? It wasn’t like he had assisted the situation in any way. “You don’t have another option, do you?” Did he? Had he been thinking of his own plan?

  “No.” He shook his head.

  Her shoulders slumped. It was still all up to her. She frowned, and couldn’t stop, even if she was prettier smiling.

  “So, my way is the only way we have. We’ll have to both be satisfied with it.” The weight on her lungs grew heavier. She had to find more air. She had to grab Jay and her father and retreat to the carriage. Now. She hitched her skirts. “You’ll call tomorrow or the next day and we can discuss this more.”

  Hugo nodded but didn’t even meet her eye. What could she do to make him behave how she wanted him to? She nibbled on her lip. What would Jay do?

  Several images flashed through her mind.

  Certainly nothing that involved a condom would be appropriate, but maybe, a kiss? People liked kisses and people who were to be married should enjoy kissing each other.

  She twisted her pendant between her fingers.

  Should she? They were behind a post.

  Heart in her throat, she leaned forward. He lifted his chin, and she pressed upward so her lips were against his. She halted, and he paused, and the two were locked for a moment.

  Ursula blinked. Shouldn’t he pull her closer or wrap an arm around her waist? Shouldn’t she be feeling—something? Shouldn’t someone part their lips? She had to be doing it wrong. They were kissing, but her stomach remained the same, stale and dull. What was the matter with her?

  Hadn’t her parents felt something when they kissed? She skimmed her hazy memories for some vision of the two of them embracing, but...nothing. Why could she memorize lists of clients in one reading, but could not recall one time her parents danced together or showed any physical affection?

  Hugo pulled back, clasped her hands and squeezed.

  “I’ll send my card, Ursula. We shall talk.”

  Before she could say another word, he slipped past her, into the party. Her back hit brick. What in the world was that?

  * * *

  Jay crossed and uncrossed his legs in the tight space between Ursula’s father and the embossed carriage wall. His fiancée’d said nothing to him since they entered the vehicle. She’d said nothing to her father, either, so perhaps he wasn’t the issue. Still, they’d had a good time. What happened to change her? Did she run into Priscilla and her ladies-in-waiting before leaving? That was certainly possible. The Reeds were bad news. Very old political family, though the modern era had not been kind to them.

  First, there was Jackson destroying the national bank and ruining the economy, especially for mercantile investors like Priscilla’s parents. After that, a cousin married into that Pierce family from New Hampshire. The anti-abolitionist one. Tied to Van Buren too and well, he wasn’t president anymore, was he?

  Now, given the climate in Philadelphia, Priscilla would be nervous about her own prospects despite her popularity. Even without her past deeds, Ursula would’ve been a target for her: Jewish, connected to the European banking industry and socially...“incompetent” was too unkind a word...let’s say “challenged.” He’d find a gentle way to ask.

  He glanced at Ursula. She’d leaned her forehead on the carriage window, the shimmery lace curtain catching her brow. Liquid pooled in her eyes, but didn’t fall. Her mouth was set in a scowl. He grimaced. In a very gentle way.

  Once in the house, she didn’t give him much of a chance to speak as she brushed past.

  “What happened?” Judah asked. The man was shorter, but his brows alone could fell a man, and the expression on his face at the mere possibility Jay caused his precious daughter’s distress...well, he’d want no part of the man in such a state.

  Jay shrugged at his faux future father-in-law. “Damned if I know. Priscilla Reed gave her some trouble early on and Carolina Wilson suggested that she and I engaged in certain acts—which we most certainly have not—but I thought she’d moved past both of those slights. Did you see her speaking with anyone while I was fetching her wrap?”

  “No.” Judah pinched his eyebrows together. “These events are fraught for my daughter. Things can happen in mere moments. Life would, in many ways, have been easier had she been born male.” The man ran a hand through his thick thatch of hair. “No matter how much I enjoy her as she is.”

  “She’s exactly like you. All her phrasing, each and every syllable, the gestures too, she couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s daughter,” Jay said.

  Judah opened his mouth and closed it, twice, wi
th no sound. He lifted a finger as if he was about to speak, but said nothing. His eyes flashed with almost anger.

  Jay faltered. What had he done now? The statement was a compliment. The Nuneses were confounding.

  Before he could mend the situation, female voices floated through the entrance area.

  “How was the party?” Rachel asked.

  “Fine.” Ursula’s voice was flat.

  Jay pushed into the house and came behind her, facing Rachel and Lydia, together, again, on the garish parlor chaise. Terrible omen. What were they still doing downstairs?

  “I’m sure all the gentlemen enjoyed your, or I suppose their, presence.” Lydia’s nasal remark could probably be heard on the street. Her thin lips curled in a sneer.

  Ursula’s shoulders tightened. He reached for her, but she’d already stepped across the room so she was inches from the pair. Circumstances raced downhill.

  “This dress is of the latest fashion.” The gritting of Ursula’s teeth was unmistakable. “It was made for me by the finest dressmaker in the city.”

  “Latest isn’t always the best. Not every fashion is for every person.” Nose in the air, Lydia chirped the words—the same way a crow would chirp. She cawed them.

  Good lord. Ursula was going to throttle the girl, which was justified, but not advisable. He needed her for at least a few more weeks.

  How could he fix this? Charm. He had to charm.

  Jay forced a devil-may-care smile, grasped Ursula’s hand and brought it to his lips. Her head flipped to the side, confusion marring her features.

  “Fortunately, Ursula could wear sackcloth and delight, the advantage of being born beautiful, an advantage both you ladies have as well.”

  And he still had it.

  Lydia opened her mouth, but was interrupted by another male voice. Thank goodness for Judah.

  “It’s very late. Your father shall be most displeased to find you awake when he comes home. You had instructions to retire at your normal time. Isaac is in bed at least, correct?”

  “Yes, Uncle Judah.” Rachel’s eyes were downcast.

  He placed a hand on Jay’s shoulder.

  “We should all get some sleep. I have meetings in the morning, and I’m sure you and my daughter have more engagements for which to prepare.”

  “Excellent idea.” Jay turned and nodded to the man.

  Jay clasped Ursula’s hand and pulled her towards the stairs before anything else could happen.

  “Mr. Truitt,” Judah called.

  He halted.

  “Perhaps my daughter should go ahead to her bedchamber and then you’ll use the staircase after the other ladies.”

  He flushed.

  Right.

  Funny how leading Ursula upstairs with him was second nature.

  Lydia tittered. Ursula snapped her head around and shot the girl a glare. Jay closed his eyes, but opened them in time to see the nose wrinkle and smirk from Lydia. Time for another demonstration of skill. He yawned.

  “Why don’t you start? Your father has a point. I’m sure Rose is itching to help you and hear about the evening.”

  Ursula turned back to him, the anger clear on her face. She was so expressive. Though refreshing and beautiful to him, it was a hindrance, a major one. Poor Ursula.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and sniffed before grabbing her skirts and flouncing up the stairs. Jay chuckled. She was growing on him. What exactly did she look like without the petticoats and hoops? Her legs were probably long and slender and—

  “Good night, Mr. Truitt.” Rachel and Lydia brushed past him.

  “Get some rest.” Judah’s voice echoed from the foot of the stairs. He caught a glimpse of a suppressed laugh before Judah bowed his head and passed. The man was uncanny.

  * * *

  Nevertheless, neither Judah’s face nor the fantasies of Ursula’s limbs was what had kept Jay awake four hours later. He tossed back and forth from his front to his side to his back, but could not ease his twitching appendages. The worry would not cease nor would the cravings, the desire for the only thing that ever made his mind stop.

  How many years since that first trip to Hong Kong, that introduction to his cure and his curse? Wine, champagne, whiskey, women, none of them held a candle to the hours and days when he could just not be—he could be free from the guilt, the memories, and most of all Sophie’s ghost.

  And he had. He had lived in the fog for almost three years straight until his parents caught wise. Coming back to reality had been brutal. The weeks shivering and vomiting, locked in his bedroom, nearly killed him. And after? He’d sworn never to go back to that place and yet here he was, inches away from a repeat performance. Why was he so weak?

  Why can’t you buckle down and work, Jay? Why can’t you be like your cousins? Do you know how much I’ve had to spend paying for your mistakes?

  His father’s words never left him alone without heavy assistance. The man loathed him despite having no idea Sophie ever existed. Compared to his actual deeds, his father’s litany of misadventures was quaint.

  Jay rolled out of the bed and pulled on his trousers. He didn’t bother with a shirt and instead donned a robe. He padded downstairs. Jews drank, didn’t they?

  He peeked around the corner and started. Blonde curls dripped down the back of the library’s velvet covered fainting couch.

  Jay walked around the side and sank into an armchair. He closed his eyes. At least her robe was thick and ruffled so her body was obscured.

  “So, you couldn’t sleep either?” he asked.

  She shrugged. Her legs were tucked beneath her and her head was framed by the large wave-like curves on the back of the piece—a mermaid on a rock—a scarlet velvet rock.

  “What happened at the party? I didn’t think it went poorly,” he asked.

  Ursula hugged her body, but said nothing for a long moment. “The parts with you in them were enjoyable.” She almost mumbled the words, but she said them.

  His eyes widened. Another compliment? Wonders never did cease.

  “You play the pianoforte well and are a skilled dance partner,” she added.

  Jay laughed.

  Oh, Ursula.

  “High praise indeed.”

  “More than that.” She leaned forward, hair spilling over her shoulders just below her beautiful...

  She sighed. “You’re amusing and do really always know the right thing to say, something that I never know no matter how much I watch and study. I can never do that. It’s like everyone else has a guide—instructions on how to interact, both gentile society and Jewish, and I was given access to neither.” Her voice shook. “I don’t want to rule either social circle, I just want to be smiled and nodded at. Is that too much to ask?”

  Tears dotted the lace and he was going to come undone. Bugger, why was there no whiskey anywhere? She’d kill him. If he could just pull her on his lap and into his arms. No, no, that could never be for so many reasons. Still, he wanted to—had to—touch her.

  Jay reached forward and clutched her hand. “You aren’t going to want to hear this, but most of your problems stem from their issues not yours. You’re a target, Ursula, for a number of reasons—a rather large target.”

  “How do I stop being one?” She sniffed a little, her nose now dripping as well.

  She was a mess, a captivating mess.

  He rooted around in his pocket and located a handkerchief, one of the obnoxious monogrammed ones. He handed it to her and she wiped her face without a shred of embarrassment. Though, why should she be embarrassed? Red and blotchy she was still a vision.

  “If you became a complete recluse you could cease being one. That’s the heart of the matter—you want them to like you, badly. You care too much, and they can smell that on you. That’s your biggest sin, more than your past actions or the things you can’
t change about yourself. Being a Jew, the way you look, your father’s money. You aren’t blessed with natural social status, but you could still improve your position. You just need to read a room better. You’re intelligent, you can learn what to say. That’ll be simple, but what—”

  “Can you teach me?” Ursula blew her nose and blinked at him with such hope—his hands and arms tingled, even his muscles longed.

  “Yes, but that wasn’t what I was trying to say—”

  “Now?” She patted her eyes.

  Her chest heaved though her breaths returned to normal. The wheels in her mind were spinning, there was no doubt as to that. She certainly had energy, and stamina, and drive.

  And hadn’t he wanted to help her, give her a few pointers? Fix her enough to smooth his guilt over the inevitable consequences of their scheme. And, for once, find an occupation for his mind other than sex, sleep or oblivion. So, why not?

  “Not this instant. It’s the middle of the night. Tomorrow, perhaps. When we’re both dressed and fed.”

  “Yes.” She rose, mumbling to herself. “Yes. We’ll work tomorrow. We can make everything better.” She twisted his handkerchief before turning back to him. “I suppose we should get rest then. We’ll have much to do.”

  Jay sank further in the chair. He’d never met anyone quite like her. Was this what the new British queen was like? Ursula could certainly run a kingdom. Fascinating. So fascinating he hadn’t itched since he’d arrived downstairs.

  She turned her lips up and nodded again to him.

  “Thank you, Jay.”

  He laughed. “For what? I haven’t done anything yet. There certainly hasn’t been any success. Wait until you see the results.”

  “For even daring to try.”

  Before he could respond, she disappeared into the hall.

  Wonders never did cease.

  Chapter Seven

  The black and gold lacquered clock on the mirrored mantel ticked and tocked, a counter beat to the rain pelting the shuttered windows of the stifling hot upstairs library. The most isolated room in the near empty house was like an oven. Not that her faux fiancé noticed. He hadn’t even rolled up his sleeves.