And her mouth, her perfect plump, pouty lips—even eating an apple. She’d be the death of him one of these days.
“Well—” Jay pushed back his hair with his palm. “I suppose it comes down to control, order versus disorder. With a vice, you’ve lost all semblance of control. You crave, and you need to have what you desire, no matter the consequences. With a mere appetite, you indulge and enjoy, but if the subject was not ideal, you could pass. You aren’t filling an empty hole.”
His heart thudded as she screwed her mouth to the side and leaned over once more. What could she see? Could she feel the damage to his soul? The powerlessness? The lines on her brow deepened.
“You seem confused.”
“What if you’re in between?” Ursula ran her hand over the fruit remnants.
Ah, food, this was about food and her own compulsions. He couldn’t stop the smile. They’d better lock up the sugar.
“I believe you could forgo sweets, Urs. I think they calm you when you’re anxious, but you have quite a few solutions for that and you don’t always turn to pastries.”
As if to agree, Hecate chirped.
Urs tilted her head so she and the creature could kiss. Disgusting.
He forced rising apple back down his throat. He’d have to make sure she wiped her mouth before he kissed her again. Not that he would, but in the hypothetical.
“Then women are an appetite, not a vice, for you? Because you can say ‘no’ and are discerning?” Ursula creased her brow again, her eyes focused on him alone, the apple now in the monkey’s hands. “I suppose you might have even more self-control in that regard than I do with crème puffs.”
She giggled at her own teasing. Enchanting. She was completely enchanting. And tempting, very tempting. If only he was who he was seven years ago, when he wasn’t broken.
He grabbed the cloth and dotted her lips himself.
“Is that a compliment I hear somewhere in there?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Perhaps. Though don’t get a swelled head, or anything else.”
The pride on her face at her own naughty joke filled him more than any plate of food could. His stomach flipped again. No one had ever smiled like that at him, satisfied with just him.
Jay laid his hands flat, on either side of her, claiming her body for the moment. If only he could tell her, make her understand, let her see things he’d never shown anyone. More, if only he could be something, someone, more, better or at least less disappointing.
He sucked in a breath. “Women aren’t desserts and despite the nice aftereffects, I engage for more than just a way to pass the time or dispel nerves. Mutual enjoyment is necessary. I’m not a monster. It’s why I don’t visit brothels. Those women don’t engage for pleasure, they engage to survive.”
Silence hung between them. His lungs ceased taking in air. Had she assumed he visited those sorts of women? Was that the reason for the questions? Couldn’t she see him? As grave as his sins were, that wasn’t one of them.
Ursula frowned and twirled a curl, her thinking face. What could she be thinking about?
“So, no servants either?” she asked.
“Mercy, no.” His gut churned at the concept. She really understood nothing about pleasure, at least real pleasure. “A servant would be worse. A servant can’t say ‘no,’ without fear of being sacked. Even if one wanted to engage, one could never tell what was real desire and what was flattery. What’s the enjoyment in that?”
“And you take care to prevent unintended consequences?” she asked, still frowning.
He froze. Now she was close—too close. “Sin,” was too kind of a word to describe his error in judgment. Never again, but never again was too late.
How to respond? Play everything off as a risqué joke? That’s what he was good at, right? Sophie herself had tutored him, brought out those natural talents of deflection.
“Yes, and honestly, there are plenty of enjoyable activities which don’t risk those.” There. That was all true—now.
Ursula’s eyes widened and mercy, she licked her lips. All thoughts of the past fled as he gazed at the woman before him—the living one.
The wheels in her fascinating head were certainly spinning. What was she picturing? He didn’t want to know. Well, he did but it was so inadvisable. His eyes travelled down, and he swallowed.
“And you prefer those other things?” she asked.
Stars. She really was going to not only tread but wallow in that territory, wasn’t she? He ran his tongue over his teeth.
“Preferences change with the partner and circumstance.” There—vague. Vague was safe.
The pendant she wore rose and fell as she breathed, a ship on a gentle tide. Mesmerizing. Enough that he could focus on the vision in front of him, instead of her words. Because it was what she said, not her body, that made him feel, or more...want.
“And despite it not being a compulsion, you vary your partners and circumstances frequently?” she asked. Too bad they didn’t permit women to be lawyers, she’d have ruled courtrooms.
His pulse sped. What exactly was this about? She was after something—something dangerous that couldn’t be good for either of them. He’d have to answer, with as much honesty as possible. She was a quick study with tells. Who knew how many of his she already knew?
“It’s actually been a while. Before I met you at the party, it’d been quite a few weeks.” A hundred and six, but who was counting?
Ursula snorted. “You poor dear.”
He burst into laughter. She was terrible—terrible and wonderful. But, a terrier halfway underground. Someone needed to grab her tail.
She leaned forward when he stopped and placed a hand over his. He trembled. He couldn’t help it.
What torture did she have designed for him?
“Urs.”
Her name was more of a growl than a word. He searched her eyes. Blue and clear and focused on him and his answer. She was young, so young, in so many ways, and he was the opposite of what she needed.
Jay placed two fingers on his temple. A headache was coming. Just his luck.
“You’re a busybody. I’m permitted to have some privacy, some secrets.”
She folded her arms and sighed. “Well, I’m not sure if you realized this, but before the other night, I had done nothing but kiss Hugo Middleton twice.”
“I’m so surprised I’m barely standing.”
Ursula’s face colored and liquid swirled in those damned eyes. Bloody Hell.
“That isn’t funny.” Her voice hitched.
She was going to break him into a million pieces which could never be put back together again. He wouldn’t even need the pipe and the tablets to die.
“Urs, you’re a nice girl from a proper family.”
And clever enough not to be led astray, or at least lucky enough. He grimaced. Her position, her status, even with the money—the papers, he’d make damn sure her name was never mentioned in the papers, not linked to his. That was the least he could do for her.
“So nice girls don’t do that?”
Urs was pouting. She was pouting about that of all things. Hugo was a fool. If the man had any sense at all he’d run off with her.
A sourness spread through his stomach. Jay clenched his fists. It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t care, and it was never going to happen because Hugo was a blind dunce.
“Nice girls do plenty of things. But ones from proper families are usually sheltered enough to wait until they are ready. Hopefully, only when they understand the consequences and know how to protect themselves.” Jay reached out and tugged a soft curl, pulling it back and letting it bounce. “I think you know that though. I also think you enjoy arguing too much.”
Her nostrils flared, but she licked her lips and, of all things, winked at him.
Death, a slow agonizing death.
“I’m just attempting to follow the logic,” she said.
“You know it’s complicated. Society is fraught. That’s why discretion and care are important, for both parties, which is why you don’t need to know any of the names from the past.”
Back to pouting, but let her. Nothing good could come from giving in and it would break every code he’d set forth for himself. He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. He had to give her something.
“I will assure you—so you don’t go sniffing around, I haven’t been in this area of the country in a long while. It’s been over two years since I’ve engaged on the east coast.” Or with anyone at all, not that she needed to know because that would invite far too many questions. He itched the back of his hand. “Does that satisfy you?”
Her eyes were like dinner plates. She blinked, slow, deliberate blinks. What had he said wrong? Urs nodded though and a soft smile shone through the darkness. She reached for his hand and squeezed, a jolt waking every cell. He’d never be able to sleep now, but it no longer mattered.
“I think you need a pet. Do you enjoy horses?” she asked.
Jay laughed and pulled her close to his body. Perhaps he had less control over certain things than he’d believed. His heart pounded in his ears, but she didn’t pull back.
This was madness. Urs met none of his former criteria. Too much mess, too dangerous—the contents of his pocket sang to him.
He pushed down the urges and the itch and the mist in his eyes. He shot her his most charming grin.
“They can be fun. Just don’t purchase me a monkey.”
She moved around so the sash of her robe brushed his. She pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his forehead.
Flames shot through his body. Torture. He yanked himself back. She was now a blur in white.
Smile.
Jay pressed through the lump and gave her that. He could say the right thing, he could.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Any response would be so inadequate, and moments later, his arms were around her waist, his lips on hers. She moaned but pressed her body so it was flush against his. Urs gripped the neck of his robe as he dipped her back.
When she parted her lips for him—heaven. She was pure paradise or the closest he’d ever feel, warm and intense and bold, and Urs, pure, Urs, pretending to be no one but herself. Jay released her and closed his eyes.
“We should try to sleep.”
She pressed her head to his chest, her soft curls tickling his chin.
“We should.” She took his hand once more, warmth radiating through his skin. “Come. We’ll go together. It’s dark in the house.”
He nodded in agreement. If only her hand could remain in his until it was light again.
Chapter Fifteen
The rain rapped the windows in the upper parlor the next morning. How could her family be out in this weather? Rachel and Lydia were at the synagogue, of all places. The service was the same each week and to stroll in the rain, soaking one’s garments, when you could pray at home, couldn’t be a worthwhile endeavor.
Her father, uncle, and Isaac, having completed their prayers at home, were somewhere even less necessary; some men’s social club, a place where she’d never be permitted. Ursula folded her arms, crinkling her bodice. More chores for Rose and it was her day off. Her aunt and uncle’s servants were much less accommodating.
Her mind wandered to Hugo and the note he sent asking for a meeting. What was she supposed to say to him, or do for him? At least the weather could give her a reprieve from that. For now. She toyed with her mother’s ring.
Why were her memories of the woman so faded? And why did being in the house tease them so? She’d vowed not to pry, not to hurt her father that way—make him feel lesser than, but it was as if a ghost called to her, taunted her with what she didn’t know.
Jay shuffled the cards. His collar flopped and exposed the top of his bare chest. He’d forgotten at least two buttons. He should really call for assistance in the morning if he couldn’t manage on his own.
He yawned. How long had it been since he’d slept? Was it just at her uncle’s house or did he wander all night everywhere he went?
How exhausting every day must be for him. After just a few minutes of waking in a cold sweat and joining his wanderings, she was sure her complexion would never quite be the same. Rose had told her she was silly but—Ursula yawned as well. Must be catchy.
“You should get more sleep, Urs.”
“You’re still going to call me that?”
“I think we’re familiar enough, yes.” He shuffled again, the cards fanning at a mesmerizing speed between his fingers.
What was he talking about? She scrunched her brow. Oh yes, the other day, in his room, when he wore his robe. She hadn’t actually seen anything. At the time she hadn’t cared, hadn’t noticed. But now, after the kisses, the darned, wonderful, foolish kisses—her face burned.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She managed to speak the words, but Jay’s self-satisfied expression indicated she had understood him perfectly.
He dealt. Ace high, a pair of fives, a six, and a three. She tapped her fingers, competing with the rain. Did she keep the ace? Ursula caught Jay’s eye. He wasn’t pleased. So many tells. How was she supposed to do this right if her head was stuck on the kisses and her mother’s ghost and what her father had said and what Isaac had heard and Jay’s other secret—the one that authored the sallow circles beneath his eyes? The one she’d give anything not to be true. He should be pleased only her tells were slipping and the lump in her throat hadn’t strangled her.
She shoved her cards into the center of the table. “I’ll take three.”
Jay raised an eyebrow but acquiesced. Two tens and a nine. Not bad, not bad at all. An improvement for once. Ursula licked her lips as she studied him. He exchanged two cards and tossed a coin in the pot. She raised.
“Must have been a nice draw.” Why was the smugness in his tone so endearing, and worse, why was he right? How was what she’d done a tell? Oh, wait, the raise—fidgeting and a raise.
Blast.
If she couldn’t focus, she might as well ruin the game for both of them. Some mysteries needed to be solved.
“Why do you have so many rules and take so many precautions with women?” she asked.
Jay froze and placed his hand on the table. “I beg your pardon?” Something akin to anger flashed in his eye.
Ursula shuddered but pressed onward. He was suspicious, and she was being too obvious, but she had to confirm or would go mad.
“I already told you. I like your rules. They’re sensible but how did you know to craft them? Have they changed over time? Have there been adjustments?” she pressed.
Jay knit his fingers, stretched, reaching his arms straight up, before clasping his hands behind his head.
“Why do you want to know?” There was no humor in his voice.
Why indeed? How could she ask him without offending him, without hurting him, without examining why the truth was so important? She gripped the edge of the table.
What had he said about thinking what the other person wants in the conversation? She closed her eyes for a moment. What did Jay want?
He certainly didn’t want her to act like she believed he did a great deal of horrible things. Ursula swallowed. He was sensitive, far more sensitive than she, far more sensitive than anyone realized.
“What is it, Urs?”
She laid her hand down as well. How could she say this correctly? He wanted an answer and nothing good came.
She studied the painting behind his head—a ship sinking by someone named Cooke. A rather depressing piece, with no animals at all. And the frame was too heavy. She blinked, over and over. She had to say something.
Think, Ursula, think.
Jay’s eyebrows rose, and his nostrils flared. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
“You’re saying it perfectly fine, Urs, and I thank you for how you said it.”
Something prickled behind her eyes. Why did he have to look so forlorn?
“You’re usually such a good liar—well, flatterer. You don’t lie, at least not really, and not to me.” She pursed her lips.
A fine try, but he probably could’ve done better had their roles been reversed.
Jay smiled at her, not a flirtatious or cocky smile, but a real smile, one that lit his entire face. His eyes sparked a warm copper. He leaned back further in his chair and ran his fingers over his cards with the lightest of touches.
Her stomach fluttered, and she shivered, despite the heat in the room.
Jay’s eyes narrowed for a moment and darkened. He scooted forward again, resting his elbows on the table, his shirt gapping even farther.
“No, I don’t lie to you, Urs.” His throat bobbed with his swallow. “But to answer your question—I learned from experience.”
“Tell me.” Her demand was low, but forceful.
* * *
The truth, the full story, was on the tip of his tongue. Could he tell her? She’d probably hate him. How could she not? He hated himself. But dash it, this was Urs and good or bad, Urs never hid anything from him. He owed her the same courtesy. Damned the consequences.
He inhaled a sharp breath and the words came of their own accord.
“It was seven years ago, in New Orleans. We had a customer, a company once owned by three brothers. The middle brother died and his wife—Sophie—held his spot for their son.”
Jay lowered his eyes, unable to bear her reaction. “She was older, thirty-seven. I was closer to her son’s age than hers, but she found me amusing. She was the type who always knew the right thing to say in every situation and she saw the same quality in me. She was—” he bit the tip of his tongue “—the first person who showed me I might have some value.”
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