A ringing endorsement of their potential union, indeed. She hugged herself tighter. She shouldn’t care. He was being sensible. Wasn’t that what she wanted? Still, a jabbing sting settled into her stomach, as if she’d swallowed a bee.
“So, I’m your first choice because I’m less bossy than Katherine? Your flattery is breathtaking.”
Hugo lifted his neck and turned up his lips at her quip. “I wouldn’t say you’re less bossy, I just prefer the direction in which you lead.”
Ursula pressed her lips together as hard as she could, but to no avail. The laughter rippled through her. She crashed back against the seat and threw her hands over her mouth, unable to suppress anything.
Hugo joined, a genuine smile spreading over his features.
“You really know how to court a woman, Hugo.” She snorted a little between whoops. She should really work on that.
He reached across and grasped her hand. “I just love how you understand me.”
She squeezed back. Did she really? Did he understand her? They enjoyed each other’s company. He was handsome and smart and interesting, but did he understand?
She wrinkled her brow. Perhaps if she thought hard enough about it she could will him to say the right thing, say what he needed to say or, more, what she needed to hear.
“I do understand you.” Ursula drew in a breath through her nose. “I can picture the life you’d want. We could have a life with books and time to read and lovely conversation and interesting lectures.”
“Things we both enjoy.” He nodded. “Katherine would never appreciate such desires. You and I are much better suited, much more compatible.”
“Yes.” Her vision misted as she peered out the window at the rain. When would it stop? She should really go back to the house. Her father would return and be worried about her.
“The sun will come out again soon, before it gets too late.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Hugo opened the lid.
“Penny candy?” He tinkled the sweets under her nose.
“You know me too well.” She picked a lemon drop and popped it into her mouth. “It’ll work out, Hugo. I promise.”
Ursula reached her hand across. He grasped it and swept his lips against her skin. Her breath hitched in anticipation of a heat, a warmth, which never came. What was the matter with her? Why did her body fizzle and tingle when Jay merely brushed against her, but Hugo’s lips did nothing?
Pressure pooled behind her eyes. Her throat closed. How could she force things to go right?
Hugo pushed her head against the seat and this time, parted his lips and oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, this was somehow worse. When they broke apart she had to turn away so he couldn’t see her retrieve Jay’s handkerchief—she really should give it back—to wipe, not dab, her mouth. Ursula fought the urge to wring her hands.
Instead, she hid the cloth in her bosom again, her face, for sure, revealing everything.
“We’ll solve it, Hugo, we will.” She steadied her voice and even met his eye.
“I know, Ursula, but hurry, we should hurry. This is why we made the pact in the first place. To prevent such awful...” He leaned against the seat. “When do I see you again?”
“Tomorrow night perhaps?” She swallowed. They were right outside the house. She grabbed the door. “We’re here and I should dash in before all the drying goes to waste.”
Before he could say another word, she was on the cobblestones, running at full speed towards the house, drenched again.
* * *
The door of Jay’s room swung open and hit the wall with a thud. He jumped and pulled his robe tighter against his body.
“You need to teach me how to kiss,” a female voice demanded.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
This was a dream, right? It had to be a dream. Ursula was there, in his temporary bedchamber, wet, seriously wet, gown-and-petticoats-sticking-to-her-limbs wet. Her skirts were half-flat, showing the outline of her body, her rather fetching body. She was more than just her upper half. Her narrow waist and curved hips and—how long were her legs exactly? They were slender, and shapely, he could tell that much. He licked his lips.
No, this would never do. He’d sworn off women since he left the asylum and he’d made it a whole two years. Besides, her father was downstairs and her uncle returning and her powders were running and he was becoming a bit too excited. Why did she have to be even more beautiful wet than dry? Now he was having all sorts of flights of fancy.
He needed to engage her, have her talk, have her insult—oh for the love of everything holy—that got him all perturbed as well. She needed to leave. He’d assumed he’d have more time to excise any physical desire he had for her from his system after the game, but apparently even in a huff she worked at an astonishing speed.
“You need to teach me how to kiss,” she repeated.
Ursula stepped forward, shut the door, and flopped onto the desk chair near the bed. “I don’t think I know how to do it right. You also have to teach me how to talk. The poker and reading people isn’t enough. I need to know what to say, perhaps specific topics and things I can just memorize. I think that was the mistake in your method—I need more help. But that can be later. Right now, kissing.”
Now it was his turn to blink. Who did she think she was? Also, why was she still in his room? He was still naked, and she wasn’t moving and this could never do. How could she be so unaware? He’d underestimated the situation.
Jay cleared his throat. “Ursula, you need to leave this room, immediately.”
“What?”
He cursed himself. The catch in her voice was obvious. Tears welled in her big blue eyes, so blue, like a cloudless sky, but somehow even more clear.
“You won’t help me? I thought you wanted me to be more pleasant and you’re good at all of those things. You were willing to teach me poker which is supposed to lead to reading people and knowing what to say, what’s just a little more? I know I haven’t been exactly nice to you, but I don’t always mean it. I really don’t, and I apologize if you were offended. I just try to be honest and accurate and I was frustrated before and I’m sorry about that. I really am.”
Glistening droplets slid down her already wet cheeks. Cold and wet and sad. Bloody Hell. Why did she have to do this? Crying always killed him and Ursula crying—his head throbbed, and his throat filled. What was wrong with him? Their relationship was temporary, but right now, he just wanted to take her in his arms and tell her not to cry and that she wasn’t really awful, even if it wasn’t true. Well, not awful, she wasn’t awful, just near hopeless.
Jay shook his head. Impossible, simply impossible.
“Ursula, I can’t help you, at least not now. I’m not wearing any clothing. You have to leave. This isn’t proper. Your father will murder me. You won’t be getting into any more parties if that happens, though I suppose you could run the banks yourself which might be enjoyable.”
He shot her his most charming smile. The tears still rolled down her neck and her lips were tight, but a welcome and comely flush crept into her cheeks.
“But you’ll help me when you’re dressed?”
She never did let up. She’d pick and push and force every point and concession until she died.
“When I’m dressed and you’re changed and dry, and had something to eat, we can discuss it, perhaps over more poker. You’d have to be willing to trust me just a small bit. Even you admit that I’m good at certain things. There’s a strategy to what I’m doing. I’ll make it clearer. I’ll at least give you tips, the first being when you’re interacting with another person, try to put yourself in the other person’s position, view the situation from their perspective.”
“But I already do that. I know that I’m supposed to try to think about how the other person would feel and tailor my comments accordingly, but sometime
s I get so angry and things just pop out and—”
He held up his hand. She’d need to figure out how to listen.
“Not just that, Ursula. Approach everything like a business deal. Think about the other person’s goals for the interaction and how what you’re saying helps or hurts them. Do they want to feel clever, attractive, noticed? What qualities do they want reflected back at them? For example, what would someone just out of a bath, wearing just a robe want?”
Ursula opened her mouth and paused. She cocked her head to the side and did that thing she did with her lips, the odd little sideways thing that was strange but prepossessing and he was in trouble.
Jay turned around and clenched his fists. “You need to leave, Ursula. I need privacy to get dressed. We’re partners, not lovers, so there are certain things that shouldn’t be done.”
She emitted a loud, sniffing, sigh. “Since we have no intention of being lovers then I don’t see what the quandary is. You’re not attracted to me and I’m not attracted to you, but I suppose there is propriety. I shall change.”
He closed his eyes, his body throbbing. If she only knew. He listened for the door before relaxing his shoulders. He adjusted the lock. Perhaps he should barricade the door as well.
Chapter Nine
Two days later, Ursula glared at herself in the heavy-framed double mirror as Rose pinned her hair. At least her aunt and uncle invested in one of a proper size. Imagine having to get dressed with only a hand mirror or nothing at all. She shuddered.
Idiotic party, idiotic dress, idiotic day. Her father monopolized Jay the entire evening prior foiling any hopes for more direct lessons. Worse, she’d been forced to practice socializing with Rachel and Lydia, both Jay and her father’s idea. Learn to get along with women who aren’t Rose indeed.
You should really spend more time doing works in your own community, Ursula.
Bugger. Even in her head Lydia’s voice was annoying. There was nothing wrong with the charity projects in Delaware, and Nunes made donations to the Female Hebrew Benevolent Society. The travel was just too long for any other involvement. That explanation led to another barrage of questions and judgments about living in Delaware in the first place. Why should she have to defend herself to some nothing lawyer’s daughter? And what sort of person spoke endlessly of their own devotion and goodness?
Yet... She really didn’t have a good explanation for why they lived so far away from, well, everything. Especially as half of the business resources were in Philadelphia. She should ask her father but somehow every time she glanced at him the words refused to form. What was the matter with her? She’d never been a coward.
Ursula smeared beeswax on her lips—sure to draw some remarks about propriety. At least her uncle was out again. He’d made himself so scarce these past two weeks, she’d almost forgotten him.
She managed only one meal with the man. He’d muttered something to her father about Lord Shaftesbury jeopardizing their family’s standing in London. She’d mentioned Sir Goldsmid’s knighthood last year and how cousin Moses expected similar treatment—something her father referenced many times.
Uncle Bernard ignored her and instead prattled on about the failed attempts at Jewish “emancipation” in England which led to an argument between the two men about the prudence of the Philadelphia community’s letter to the president regarding the Damascus affair. Her uncle felt the American and European Jews who pressured the Ottomans to stop the blood libel called too much attention to themselves and would regret being seen as a nuisance.
How the other men of the congregation hadn’t murdered him yet was a miracle. If only she could have some of their self-control. She’d need all of it for the evening.
Ursula crossed her arms and scowled. “I don’t want to go to this party.”
“You’re here to go to these parties.” Rose tugged harder.
“Ow.” Ursula rubbed the area by her part. “Why are you pulling so hard today?”
“You’re knotted. You need to be smooth near the top. Be thankful you already have the curls. Your cousin Rachel requires hours of heat. Yours aren’t as tight as your mother’s, but with just a little coaxing they’re perfect. You’re very, very lucky.”
“Lucky indeed. Even when curls are fashionable mine aren’t the right type. People want straight hair tortured into ringlets, not the real thing.” She gritted her teeth.
She was being childish, but internal admonishment didn’t quell her frustration. She was going to see Hugo again and watch his parents throw Katherine at him while he moped in the background instead of taking action. How was she supposed to work with that?
Ursula chewed on her lip. She’d ask Jay in the carriage. Perhaps he had an idea of how to involve Hugo more.
“I don’t know why you’re so cross,” Rose continued. “You’re stunning, the dress is the latest style and you’re going to be on the arm of a handsome man.”
“Who’s using me to force his parents to leave him alone or some such nonsense.” Ursula wrinkled her nose. Why did saying it twist her stomach so much? Why should she even care about his real motives? She wasn’t friends with him, not really. He’d been rather nice as of late, but she barely knew him. If he hadn’t been in the hall that night she’d never have even remembered he existed. Why should she care?
A bitter taste enveloped her mouth and did not subside the entire ride to the party as her father and Jay made small talk around her. If only she had Hecate or Arte to hold. Everything would be all right. No, even without them, everything would be all right.
Her hand shook as Jay helped her from the carriage and led her past the butler to the host and hostess, who each gushed over them. Like they were excited to have her as well as Jay in attendance.
“Friends of my parents,” Jay whispered against her ear as the two entered the foyer, every side covered to the hilt with grisaille wall coverings. Expensive, but a little muted for her taste.
She gazed back at the owners. They had been lovely and she could get used to the effusive treatment. Though that was why she was marrying Hugo in the first place, right?
“Refreshments?” Jay asked.
Ursula nodded, taking in the sights. Another beautiful home with high ceilings and bright candles and throngs of people in the latest fashions. Billows of sleeves and skirts and ties of silk frothed in the air.
“I promise I’ll bring you lots of sugar.” He lowered his voice once more.
“And champagne too?” She pressed her lips together but couldn’t muster a smile.
“I’ll come right back.” He squeezed her arm. “We can dance and if it gets too much, we’ll sneak away somewhere. I know this house well. Oh, and we’ll find Hugo and his parents. We’ll make a good showing.”
She knitted her hands. If only she could believe him. To be fair, she could believe him, it was just spending time with the Middletons was so much less appealing in the moment.
Jay squeezed her again, before being swallowed by the crowd.
All right, time to make herself invisible. It was difficult with the hoops; skirts were becoming unmanageable. No optical illusion of a smaller waist was worth this much trouble. Though maybe the trend would lead to the demise of the corset.
Ursula spotted a large porcelain urn by the drapes in the first parlor and backed her way into the corner. She could observe but not be found out from her vantage point. Fortunate, as Priscilla, Agnes, Katherine and two other young women she didn’t know soon passed in a swath of crinoline and lace.
She inhaled and exhaled as the minutes dragged until she spotted Jay, two glasses in one hand and a plate in the other. Her heart sang with joy. Finally. And with everything she’d requested. Giddy, she rushed forward and collided with him, her bosom hitting his chest.
“Good thing I’m steady on my feet.” The rumbling in his torso from the words, right against her heart stirre
d something inside her. Her stomach flipped but not with illness or at least not with an illness she’d known. And she was warm, so very warm, but her body ached to press even closer to his.
No.
Ursula pulled back and fanned herself.
“I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts today.” She grabbed her glass and poured the entire contents down her throat.
Jay cocked his head to the side as if to study her. He drank his champagne and offered her the plate.
“Sweets?”
“Yes, please.” She stuffed an éclair into her mouth, and a second, and a third. Blast, she was hungry.
“Tonight we’ll be brilliant, Ursula.” Jay stroked her hand. “Just remember what I taught you. Look at everyone and see what they want. Give them what they desire and they’ll adore you. And whatever you do, do not hide what you can’t change. Who you are, your father’s money, even your bosom, are no more peculiar than the shape of your nails. Natural variance.”
If only it were that simple. Though perhaps for a casual conversation in a ballroom it could be. She didn’t have to be friends with these people—she just had to survive them.
“Come, we’ll take a few turns on the floor, make everyone jealous and then mingle.”
* * *
What was happening to Ursula? She’d been off the past few days. Something must have occurred, something she refused to tell him.
Jay snaked his hand around her waist, pulling her to his side. She fit so well. They did make a handsome couple, just as the papers said. The jealousy in the room was palpable. If she could behave, they could turn the envy into admiration and longing for their presence. They could be unstoppable.
Ten dances later, he led her to the refreshment table to replenish. Even in an odd mood the woman had energy. He opened his mouth to tease her about the four chocolate tartlets she grabbed when a deep voice brought his entire evening to a halt.
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