Wrist laid against the carved phoenix head at the edge of the table, Ursula wrinkled her nose as Jay cut the deck and divided cards between them, five each. This is what he wanted to do? After the prior night’s conversation, this was how he was going to teach her what to say to people—to not be a complete incompetent at parties? She should’ve known better. She closed her eyes.
Just when she’d thought there was more to him, the glimmers she’d seen... After the perilous near disasters of the party and Priscilla Reed lurking around at all the events they’d most likely attend, they needed to regroup, recalculate, reevaluate so they could fix the situation—fix her.
She touched her lips and blinked. Hugo. He’d kissed her. Sort of. Truth be told, she’d kissed him, but he hadn’t resisted and he wanted to see her afterwards despite the kiss being, well, she wasn’t sure what it was or wasn’t. If only she had a mother to ask or an aunt or cousins who weren’t the ones she had. Why couldn’t her mother have had relatives? She sighed.
Still, kissing had to be proof they were on the right path—a path Jay was veering off of.
What was wrong with him? What sort of imbecile thought sitting around in her uncle’s upstairs parlor playing cards was a way to improve her circumstances?
She folded her arms. “I don’t gamble.”
“No, but you want to.” He cocked his head to the side, hands folded on the rosewood writing table between them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was he insulting her? Why could she never tell?
He winked. “That means that you’re interested in business. Business is all about gambling.”
Oh, business. Better—much better.
“Not smart business.”
“You should ask your father about that.” Jay ran his hand over the cards. “Anyway, you should learn. You’re terrible at reading people and you’re too open. Being able to correct those issues in society will go a long way. It won’t solve everything, but it’ll help. Besides, we’re going to receive a whole deal more attention at the next party. My sources told me that we’re sure to make the gossip columns.”
Ursula stared into his ever-changing eyes, now a green like oak leaves late in the season. His tone, for once, wasn’t mocking. It was almost serious, or more sincere.
“I doubt a game of cards will change anything, but I suppose there isn’t much else to do with the rain and no one around.” She toyed with her ring. Fiddlesticks, the emerald was loose. She forced herself to stop, laying one hand over the other. “You’re the teacher so if this is what you want to do, I’m at your mercy.”
His eyes widened, and his smile became a full grin. “‘At my mercy,’ now those are wonderful words coming from your mouth.”
He was such a man, and an immature one at that.
“I didn’t mean them in any way you might imply. Just explain to me what I’m supposed to do,” she said.
Jay paused, his deep dimple heightening his youthful and oh-so-prepossessing face.
“There are so many delightful things I could say to that, Ursula.”
“The game—the cards, Jay. Let’s focus on the cards.”
He stroked the deck. “The goal of this game is to either have the best hand or make everyone else at the table believe you have the best hand.”
Make believe.
Intriguing.
“How do you make them believe that?” she asked.
“By bluffing, but you don’t want to bluff too much. A good full bluff only works for one or two hands during a sitting. You can do little misdirections, but limit the outright bluffs.”
So, this was a game of lies. Fine. How difficult could that be? Ursula lifted her cards. Two tens, a three of clubs, a five of hearts and a queen of diamonds. She ran her fingers over the outside edge as Jay recounted the rules, her mind swirling as she worked to memorize what beat what. He certainly knew a great deal about the game, no surprise. He’d spent how many years wasting his parents’ fortune and name on the Mississippi River?
His face was animated, like always, but different. The arrogance was gone. He was just knowledgeable, confident. A quip about his expertise in sin sat on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth but no—she couldn’t tempt changing him.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“We draw. You can replace up to three to get the best hand you can.”
Ursula took three while Jay chose one. He ran his finger over the edge of his new card and placed another two coins in the inlaid circle at the center of the table.
She dragged her tongue over the back of her teeth and stared at her hand. The two tens were now joined by two sevens and a two. She glanced across the table. Jay’s cards were flat.
What did he have? He only took one card so either two pairs, three of a kind with a high card, or four of a kind. If he had four or three she lost automatically, but if he had two then they had to be better than hers to win.
Sevens and tens. She’d thrown away a queen so it was less likely he had two of them, same with the threes and fives and now twos. Therefore, if he had two pairs, most likely they were sixes, eights, nines, jacks, kings or aces. With two pairs he had a one in two chance of beating her. The probability she had the best hand was abysmally low.
Logic. There was actually quite a bit of logic here. She could do logic. Maybe gambling wouldn’t be that bad.
“I fold.” Ursula tilted her chin to him, waiting for his approval.
Thump, thump, thump echoed through her body. Why did it matter? She always did have to be the best, but this was a silly game and more, a silly game with Jay Truitt, not her father or Hugo’s father or someone whose opinion should actually matter.
Jay raised an eyebrow at her, a slow smirk creeping on his face as he pulled the pot towards him. She bit her tongue and cursed in her head.
“What did you have?”
“Can you handle that news?” He flipped a coin in the air, over and over, daring her.
Could she handle it, indeed? She was Ursula Nunes. She could handle anything, even the loss and whatever ridiculous point he was making. He was better at certain things. That was tolerable, completely tolerable, she didn’t have to always win.
“Yes.” She clenched her teeth. “If I don’t know I can’t learn.”
He caught the coin and appraised her.
“It’s really killing you to say that, isn’t it?”
She closed her eyes.
“Just make your point, Jay.”
His smile deepened so his dimple was visible as he flipped his cards on the table—a pair of kings, a six, an eight, and a two. He had one pair to her two. If she had called instead of folded, she’d have won.
Bollocks, double bollocks and blast.
“You bluffed.”
“No.” Jay gathered up the cards. “Actually, I didn’t. I misdirected. I had a decently high pair and nothing else, but saw you take three cards. You thus had a pair, probably a lower pair as you aren’t a risk taker so you wouldn’t draw for a straight with two of five.”
She pursed her lips. Why did he have to be logical and good at this?
He drew a satisfied breath and she flushed. Ugh, she should learn to school her reactions as well. Add that to the list.
Jay waved a hand. “Anyway, both of us could draw three and hope the other didn’t get a second pair, or I could misdirect you, take one, make it look like I had a stronger hand. Bluffing would involve bidding up while I knew I had an inferior hand. Here, if you received nothing when you drew I would’ve won regardless. I made you assume something untrue. Misdirection.”
Ursula replayed the events in her mind. He’d given himself less of a shot for a better hand, on purpose, but won anyway.
“Wouldn’t it have been more prudent to take all of the cards and give yourself the chance to have the better hand and if no
t acted or manipulated or whatever you do, to get yourself out of the situation and win?” she asked.
“A back-up plan is nice if you can swing it. I had enough information about my opponent to know that the misdirection would work, at least once. Better plan, better odds.”
Jay stretched his hands over his head. He was so smug. Even when he was kind and helpful, he was smug, like he knew things, things she didn’t. Ursula clenched her fists.
“Deal me another hand.” She pressed against the table edge. She would learn this game and learn his tricks and win if it was the last thing she did.
“You don’t gamble, huh?” He chuckled and shuffled the cards.
Ursula grabbed her five and drew them towards her. Absolutely nothing: ace, ten, eight, three and two. What three to get rid of? She exchanged the lowest, yielding a queen, a five and a four, all of different suits. She eyed Jay.
He exchanged three cards as well. He held his cards this time, craning his neck, though not studying her face. She sighed. She should blush or sock him. Her stomach clenched.
Why should she care?
Her breasts were large and men enjoyed that sort of thing. Even Hugo. Right? And kisses could be improved upon, couldn’t they? She traced the roof of her mouth with her tongue. How important were kisses anyway? Compatibility was what was important. She and Hugo were of similar mind and habits and...
Game, just focus on the game, Ursula.
She could focus. All right—if she had five different cards, but with the ace high, to win he would need a worse hand. He had a pair at most before they drew. Any pair won. The question was how likely was it that Jay had a pair? Only one way to find out.
“Raise.” She placed a coin in the pot.
Jay rubbed a finger over his lips. He rolled a coin between his fingers in his other hand.
“I shall see your wager.” He tossed the coin in, eyes still on her bosom, this time more obvious.
Ursula sniffed. If he was trying to make her uncomfortable he had another thing coming to him. Meaningless. To Jay Truitt, any bosom would do. The lack of discretion in appreciation was insulting, but if he didn’t care, she shouldn’t either. A wry smile played on her lips. Perhaps she could rile him a little. Perhaps two could play at that game.
She leaned back and wrinkled her nose. What was the equivalent move for a woman? Ducking under the table wouldn’t quite achieve the desired result. She studied the filigree on the ceiling, begging for inspiration. She twirled a curl, tugging at it, winding it—perfect.
Ursula released the lock of hair and instead fingered the bottom of her pendant, right above the area Jay watched. Distraction sparked in his eye. She licked her lips. She wound the necklace around her fingers.
“Raise.” Wind, unwind, wind, unwind, right where his eyes had been locked.
“You’re damned distracting, Ursula and a very quick study.” He tossed in another coin. “Call.”
She flipped over her cards.
He waited, winked and showed his hand—a pair of nines with a king, a jack, and a three. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t start with the pair.”
Blast. Her calculations were right. That wasn’t her mistake.
Jay coughed. “Actually, this hand could have gone either way. You did better than expected at the people part. It’s different with women, especially for you, but the same concept.”
Ursula began to smile, but swallowed it. Better than expected? What did he mean by that?
“How kind of you to say.” She glared at him. “Your talent for patronizing knows no bounds.”
“I’d take that as a compliment if I were you. This isn’t easy. You’re not a manipulative person. You’re the opposite—to the extreme. The fact that you can become one if necessary—I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but you did well. As I was saying, there is another lesson in it, focusing on the desires of the person in front of you and playing to those...”
His voice faded as a drumming echoed in her ears.
Did well, indeed. He was the most insufferable, conceited, self-satisfied—she folded her arms, hating his smile and how attractive it was, how charming. She may not be able to manipulate, but that was certainly Jay Truitt’s middle name. Well, other than Thaddeus. Everything was a game to him.
“I lost the hand.”
“This time, but you’ll win the next. There was nothing you could’ve done. Sometimes you’re stuck with the hand you’re dealt, and you have to make the most of it.”
Ursula closed her eyes. “And lose.”
“Winning isn’t everything.” His voice was too darn soft.
Why did he have to sound sympathetic? Pity hurt so much worse.
“Says the man who has never wanted nor needed to want anything.”
She shoved back her chair before Jay could reply and fled, through the hall, out the door and into the courtyard. She leaned against the brick, rain bouncing on her hair and gown. The silk would be ruined. She needed air, more air than the courtyard allowed. She needed to leave. She pushed through the side gate, soaking her hair, and ran.
Chapter Eight
Two blocks later Ursula’s dress was ruined. She should’ve worn her cloak. Her hair had come loose and plastered to her back. Rain ran down her cheeks. Not so pretty now, though her looks never won her anything in the first place. Perhaps this was better.
Ursula wiped her eyes. What was wrong with her? Well, she knew what was wrong with her, what had always been wrong with her. She never quite fit, was never quite right. She’d fail in her cousins’ world and in Hugo’s world and now in Jay’s world.
She shivered and leaned against the iron gate of a graveyard, the only green among the planks of brick.
Why couldn’t she win? She had all the right ingredients. What about her made everything come out wrong? She was useless, not fixable, certainly not by Jay Truitt.
She sniffled. She’d have to go back, have to go into the house and watch all of their expressions as they judged her. Her cousins would be shocked, Lydia’d smirk and tell her whatever she did was against Jewish law or some such nonsense, her uncle’d probably lecture her father since he never spoke to her directly. And Jay...she sucked in a deep breath.
It didn’t matter. The tears began again, but she forced herself to move, to trudge in the right direction.
Her skirts stuck to the pavement. Carriages passed, mud splashing—no, head high, chin up, Ursula, don’t you dare give them anything. You cry, they own you.
The words echoed in her head. Were they her mother’s or her own? If they were her mother’s how old were they? How many years had it been since her mother’d been well enough to speak two complete sentences? Ten? Twelve? The memories were so fleeting. Soft fingers running through her hair, a tinkling laugh, someone snuggling her in bed.
Ursula swiped her eye with her sleeve and forced herself to obey. She snuffled, but she obeyed. She reached the corner, ready to turn when a carriage plinking across the cobblestones came to an abrupt halt.
“Ursula,” a voice called.
Good lord. What was he doing here? He’d seen her at her worst a million times, but still, she probably resembled a drowned rat and she had to get him to fight alongside her, not set a cat on her.
“Hugo.” She forced herself to meet his eye at the carriage window. “What are you doing here?”
“I was coming back from a tea. Why are you outside in this downpour? You’re soaked.”
“I needed some air. My aunt and uncle’s house is around the corner. I’m about to go back inside and dry off. I went for a walk and lost track of time.” Ursula stroked her locks, her fingers catching in the waterlogged curls.
“Come in the carriage for a moment. You’ll sit, dry off and we shall pull closer.” His voice was louder than usual, more insistent.
Odd.
“Hugo, really, I’m all right.”
She’d be better off at her uncle’s. Perhaps Rose would bring her some hot cocoa. She could pretend to be ill and lie in bed reading, Hecate and Arte cuddling with her.
“Ursula.” He thrust open the door. “Come on. Spending a little time with you will make today bearable. Please?”
His voice was even bolder now, a bit strange for Hugo. Yet, what was the harm in sitting for a moment? If she was going to, though, why couldn’t she be fresh and dry? No, this was Hugo. Hugo didn’t care. She hitched her sopping skirts and thrust herself inside.
The respite from the rain was welcome but—she leaned against the sedate floral seat and closed her eyes. Why was everything so confusing these days? Ursula blinked at the man across from her and frowned. “Why are you so glum?”
Hugo leaned back against his own seat. He placed his hat next to him and mopped his brow with his handkerchief.
“My parents want me to become engaged to Katherine Morris.”
She stifled a gasp. Already? The Middletons worked fast.
“It’s part of a bargain. If we become engaged, her parents will gift certain properties to mine and her father will guarantee mine the seat on the Third Circuit.” He toyed with his cuff.
Ursula bit her lip. How to approach this? He couldn’t actually want to become engaged to Katherine instead of her, could he? She pictured the woman: limp brown hair, bland gray eyes, chicken-breasted, two years older than Hugo. She wasn’t plain, but she wasn’t anything special. Worse, she was friends with Priscilla and Agnes so that either made her a climber or a snob or just vile.
Oh, there was the sneer that never left the woman’s face. And there was the way she ignored Ursula altogether except for a few snickers at Priscilla’s comments. Vile was an excellent word.
“Do you want to become engaged to her?” She searched his face, heart quaking a little.
“Of course not.” Hugo bent forward and held his face in his hands. “I’d much rather be engaged to you. Katherine will expect me to be a certain way and force me to spend time with her father and men like him.”
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