She snorted, her eyes on the other players, not him. “You didn’t when you left my uncle’s.”
Dullard, complete dullard, biggest mistake he’d made in his life, bigger than trying the opium that first time, bigger than the mess he made with Sophie, bigger than each failure.
If he could only sock himself. How could he fix this? Grovel? Urs’d probably enjoy him on his knees—no, stop, none of those images and that sort of groveling—regular groveling and apologizing and explaining. Honesty. She’d prize that.
“That’s not true. I wanted it then, and the day before that and the day before that, I just—” Jay swallowed. All eyes were on him. His father, Judah, Bernard Levy, they all glared from the sideline. “I just lost faith. I lost faith in myself and in your judgment, something I will never do again, the latter, not the former because the former I’m not sure I can promise...”
He was rambling—poorly—and yet. Urs stared ahead but, the corner of her lip, the left side, ticked just a smidge.
Blood shot through his gut, warming him back to life. A tell, a real tell. She was listening. She hadn’t shut him out. There was hope, small hope, but still hope.
Talk, keep talking.
“Urs, you’re everything to me. When I look at you I want to be better than I am. I know—” The three men at the table had placed their hands flat, their attention rapt. Silence hung in the air. None of the onlookers even moved. “I’ve made a mess, Urs.”
He ran his fingers through his hair.
Everyone was witness—everyone knew. Yes. Neither he nor Urs had the benefit or burden of secrecy. That was almost freeing. He cleared his throat.
“I’m an opium fiend. I can’t be trusted around the stuff. My father essentially gave away almost a third of our fortune to protect me from myself. I’m not the man I was before I used it nor am I the man I was before I impregnated Sophie, made her miserable and watched her and my child die. I’ll never be that man again.”
She tilted her head towards him—her chin lifted and raised an eyebrow.
“You deserve so much better. And I recognize even asking you to be with me is selfish, but I would do anything. I don’t care where you were born or who your parents are and if you want to make me go to a synagogue or not eat pork or anything else, it doesn’t matter. I know I don’t deserve a chance or even another word from you.” He gulped more air. “But you can’t marry Hugo Middleton. You can’t throw your life away on someone you don’t love and could never love you as you should be loved. He doesn’t understand you. He’s a lovely man, but you need someone—”
She quirked her lips. “Who exactly do I need, Jay?”
He paused. How did he explain? How did he dare tell Urs, without—it wasn’t his place. He didn’t have the right. He’d forfeited the right.
“Son.”
He glanced to the side. Reed had straightened his shoulders. “I believe we’re in the middle of a hand. If you’d like to speak with Miss Nunes, you may wait until we’re through.”
They were all busy staring each other down, not actively bidding. Could they not give him a moment? Urs was more important than a judgeship, foolish Hugo’s worthless hand in marriage, and all the money in the world. Jay pursed his lips. “Deal me in then.”
“We can’t deal you in.” Reed gasped at the suggestion.
“We’ve all bid.” Mercy, Middleton’s voice was so much like his son’s, like a nail drawing against a glass pane—and he wanted to force litigants to listen to him from the bench. They’d all probably beg for a speedy execution.
“Give me five bloody cards, Middleton,” Jay snapped.
“Is that even permitted?” Was Middleton seriously going to quibble over rules and regulations for an activity which was illegal in itself?
“This is my house.” The words were an unfamiliar bellow. The room fell into silence until his father stepped forward, off the wall. “Give my son five cards.”
“He has to buy in and again, the hand has already started.” Morris glared.
Philadelphians really were the worst.
“Fine, it doesn’t matter, whatever it requires. What do we have—Urs’ two new stallions and a five percent stake in Nunes, a circuit court judgeship, Hugo Middleton’s hand, and Reed’s initial buy-in plus the raises?” He straightened his shoulders.
Urs closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath through her nose, as if tolerating a bunch of unruly children.
“Yes, and as you can see, this is not a hand for you, despite what your father said. You’re too late, Jay, at least for this round. I raise.” She slipped off her bracelet and placed it in the center of the table.
The men all glanced at each other, though no one dared challenge nor inquire regarding the value of the item.
Reed was the first to speak. “I fold. This has really nothing to do with me.”
Fine, wondrous, one down, two more until he had all her attention.
“Urs. It isn’t too late. It can’t be too late. I’m here and I love you and I’ll do anything. I’ll cut off my own arm. You don’t have to marry me. You don’t have to marry anyone, I mean you deserve to marry someone, just someone worthy.”
“And my son isn’t worthy?” Could Middleton and everyone else be quiet for two minutes?
Jay closed his eyes. Headache, the entire situation was a massive headache. If, no when—when he convinced her they needed to be together, that it was the best course of action for both of their sanities, he’d find a way to convince her to massage his temples. Naked.
Bollocks. No—task at hand. He turned to Middleton.
“Your son doesn’t love her and she doesn’t love him. They’ve both already told each other that.”
“Yes, we did.” Hugo’s voice was calm and a great deal more pleasing than his father’s. He stepped up to the table, at his father’s side, between him and Reed. “I don’t love Katherine either, don’t even like her. I like Ursula, but, Father—I’m, um.” He tugged at his collar.
Middleton folded his arms, leaning in his seat so he could glare at his son. “Yes?”
Hugo cleared his throat. “No one should be forced into a marriage with someone they despise. I know the judgeship is important to you and Mother and everyone, but there has to be another way. I’ll sell anything and everything I own to make it up to the family. Ursula shouldn’t be the one at the table, nor Jay. It should be me. It should’ve been me from the beginning. I should be able to rescue myself. I haven’t accomplished that and have a long way to go, but no matter what happens in this game I’m not getting married to anyone, at least not now.”
Middleton held the glare for a long beat before his lips turned at the corner. Affection and admiration for his son came into his eyes before he turned back to the table. He placed a finger to his lips. “Well then, I suppose I shall be taking your hand out of the pot.”
“You have to replace it with something of equal or greater value.” Morris’ tone suggested he was fit to be tied, or ready to throw something—something expensive he was supposed to inherit someday.
Jay rose and strolled over to Middleton’s other side, right next to Urs. “How about I buy his stake then? I’ll take his cards and trade places. Again, this is my father’s house so there should be some deference, provincial or not.”
Morris banged a fist on the table. “This is ridiculous.”
“This is quite serious.” His own father strolled next to the man, towering, his height not quite Jay’s, but impressive in its own right “I’m placing this entire house in the pot.”
For the love of all that was holy. Jay blinked back tears. His father. His father believed or trusted or wanted or cared or loved—he’d never, ever—the glint in his father’s eye, the tone, there was almost pride.
“I—” For once Jay couldn’t put two words together.
“I have faith in you,
Jay.” He leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “She trusts you so please, please, please don’t make a mess of this. Show her what she values, what’s important to her.”
Why had he not listened to his father more? Jay swallowed. “Understood.”
“Well,” Morris grunted. “I haven’t folded. I’ll see that raise. I still have a judgeship in the pot, a coveted one that many would pay quite a bit for and I’ll happily take everything. I’m not soft nor daft and I’ll also gladly ruin all of you provincials.”
And Jay’s wits charged back. Poker game, cards in hand, and a piece of dung wafting distractions at him. He knew this scenario and knew it well. He could conquer.
“Careful, talk like that won’t get you out of Delaware without a duel,” he quipped. He still had it. He was back in charge. Jay slid his, well, Middleton’s cards for a peek. Pair of Jacks with an ace. Not too shabby. The man got lucky on the draw.
“And who’s going to fight it? Miss Nunes, or should we say Miss Simon? She’s not exactly a native.” Morris had the nerve to lean towards Urs, invade her elbow space.
And the charm and presence were gone. He’d tear off each of Morris’ fingernails, one by one and then go to his toes, all while he was gagged and tied in the hottest corner of the attic.
“She’s a Nunes and she’s a lady. She could buy and sell all of us at this table and if she really wants to ruin you, she can, more than you can ruin her. Do you really think your morality matters in the banking world?” Jay managed to get the entire speech through his teeth.
Morris clucked his tongue. “Snubbing though, does something to a woman’s heart, does it not? And her head.”
Jay glanced at Urs. Her face was tilted towards Morris, but one would’ve thought he was discussing the weather. Not an eyelash twitched at the insults and the vague references to her mother. He’d really taught her well. She’d become better than him. Good thing too because he’d lost all semblance of gamesmanship.
“She won’t be snubbed here.”
Jay closed his eyes and smiled at his father’s voice. Urs was the general and he was the second, but his father made an excellent foot soldier.
Morris chuckled again. “Really J.T.? You can’t be serious. After what she and your son engaged in? I mean, no discretion whatsoever. She came right into a room of men and admitted it.”
His father wet his lips, his mouth dipping up and down as if he swallowed a laugh. “I believe she just figured out a way to prove certain things.” His voice was bored, but his eyes twinkled.
The tone must have irritated Morris. He leapt to his feet and whirled around to face J.T.
“No. She did not. She implied, personal, intimate, knowledge, like the common—”
Now this was unacceptable, his father, his house, his fiancée, well, his hopefully fiancée. Jay leapt to his feet in an instant. “Do you want to step outside?” The growl was back.
“Jay. Jay—” Alarm rang in Urs’ voice. She was on her feet as well.
Morris sneered first at her, before locking eyes again with Jay. “I can do just that, after I finish winning her money. I call, Miss Simon.” He flipped his cards, a pair of kings, a pair of fours and a queen.
Well, he was beat. Blast.
Urs’ chest rose as she breathed. With a swish of her skirts, she was in her seat again. “Nunes. And I will take that judgeship, a gift to the Middleton family as Hugo’s been such a good friend for all these years. Not the most ‘American idea,’ but if the appointment was being sold anyway, it might as well go to someone from Delaware with kind relations.” With a smile she revealed four nines. She was insane or good or insane and good, and damned lucky.
“Whore!” Morris pounded the table again.
Enough was enough. She’d won, it was over, and he was ready to find a way to finagle her into some place quiet and private or at least semiprivate after he did more groveling.
Jay moved around the table, so he could use his height and shoulders. “That’s it. That is it. You are in my house and you will not say that about—”
Urs grabbed his arm. “We don’t know if it’s your house or not. It could very well be mine.”
He blinked. Oh, he’d missed her. Morris needed a good thrashing, but damned if he couldn’t stop the grin spreading not only on his face, but through his entire body.
She tugged him again. He turned to her fully and noted the shining liquid in her eyes.
Her voice trembled. “Jay, you’re not going to fight him. You’ll kill him.”
She was worried about him. She cared more about him and his freedom than her own honor. Precious. She did love him. She absolutely loved him, and he was going to tease the daylights out of her.
He shot Morris another menacing scowl, for her benefit. “But he can’t say that about you. It isn’t—”
She cleared her throat. “If he wants to toss me into the category of ‘loose women,’ or what have you, I really don’t have much of an objection. I’m sure all my cohorts would have amusing stories. Besides, the actions that earn one that classification are rather enjoyable, especially...”
The quavering and the concern, she really was wonderful, daft, but wonderful, and probably should learn to be more discreet when saving his life and reputation. Hers didn’t always need to be sacrificed. He placed a hand over her mouth. “Urs, your father will kill me.”
Judah shot him a confirmatory glare, though the corners of his lips twitched. Bernard Levy had both hands over his mouth, though an odd duck sound escaped.
She folded her arms and tapped her toe until he removed it. She glared—not cried and it was beautiful. “Why are you permitted to do everything you’ve done, but I’m—”
Beautiful and perfect and the best and most interesting person in the room.
“Because that’s not really how it works.” He resisted smiling, but it was so difficult.
“I mean, people probably already assumed it, but because of who my mother was, now it’s somehow even worse. That seems very un-American too.” She was no longer listening to him, she was making her case.
Jay had to stamp on his own toe not to laugh. He’d love her forever, even after death.
“Should we—or perhaps you two—leave the room?” Hugo’s face was a bright crimson now.
“Yes.” Jay grabbed her elbow and all but shoved her into the hall, though she didn’t stop her argument.
He stepped towards the bannister, almost back where they first met, first spoke.
“Well, if you’d permit me to marry you, people will very much assume we do all manner of that sort of thing, at least for the beginning, and none of it will matter,” he said.
She was smiling, though she fought it—illuminated by the gaslights against the mahogany paneling.
He had to shove his hands in his pockets so not to carry her away that very moment.
“That’s not a very good reason for me to marry you.” She stuck out her lower lip.
He rolled his eyes.
She was going to really make him grovel, beg—and now he was thinking—
Urusla wasn’t finished. “Avoiding scandal, I mean. That seems like a coerced marriage. Also, did you just say that we’d eventually stop?”
Delicious. He wrapped a single arm around her waist. “First, we are never, ever going to stop doing that. I’d need to be entirely incapacitated. Second, I already told you, I love you. I don’t deserve you, but I love you.”
She leaned into him, her heartbeat already coordinating with his. “And that should be enough?”
He caught a free curl and bounced it. Her lips, her beautiful, kissable, lips...
“No, it’s enough because you love me too. You trust me, and I trust you. Look, I’m going to fail, or more likely, slip. I’m not ‘curable.’ I promise you I’ll try hard, but be honest with you, whatever happens.”
“I know. That doesn’t matter to me. Well, it does, but not as much as being with you.” Tears glistened below her deep, thick lashes.
He swiped his sleeve across his face. Bollocks, his eyes were damp too.
“I want to be your partner, Urs, for the highs and the lows because the idea of not being in the same room with you—that’s all I want.”
Tears now dripped from her cheeks, down her neck and mingled in her bosom. It took all his self-control not to blot them.
“You never turned over your cards.” She sniffed.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Urs. Are you joking? This isn’t the time.”
She smiled the most wicked of smiles, the smile she smiled right before she was ready to pay attention to his dragon. His entire body throbbed. Is this what cavemen felt like before they threw women over their shoulders?
“It’s a fair request. I want to know whether you are doing this to regain your parents’ house.”
“What do you think?” He touched a finger to her nose. He just couldn’t resist.
“I—”
His heart began to speed as wonderful ideas popped into his head. He would make her blissfully happy, he’d make that a new occupation, one at which he could truly excel.
“Do you need me to sweeten the pot? I mean, you’re already getting new jewelry. Amethyst, I had them made for you.”
“Jay.”
“The ring is bigger than Victoria’s, but I didn’t want you to be top heavy so...”
“Jay.”
“What do you want, Urs? I’ll give you everything and anything.” Perhaps they could take a twirl around the floor. He’d love showing her off for just a few minutes.
“A repeat performance of the afternoon Hugo came to call in Philadelphia, as it was, and reversed.” She folded her arms.
Bloody Hell, she was the most perfect creature that was ever created. If there was a God, she was created for him, specifically for him and he for her. He swallowed.
Appetites & Vices Page 27