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He grasped her hand and stroked her fingers, as if he liked her instead of just aiming to use her to further whatever his real goals were.
Her stomach tingled. He was wonderful, at least in that moment. Why was he being so kind? Moreover, how was he so good at saying the exact right thing in every situation? The man could deflect like no one else. If only she could have a little of his sorcery for once.
“Your previous lifestyle?” Lydia scrunched her nose. “Pray tell, what’s that?”
Jay launched into a rather scandalous story regarding riverboat gambling on the Mississippi.
Sweat dripped below her hairline. Why was it still so hot this late in the evening? Ursula picked at her food. They should’ve served something cold. How could she escape, call for Rose to undress her and tell her everything would right itself in the end?
Her younger cousin, Isaac, slipped across the back of the room carrying pegs and a board. His head was down as if he didn’t want to be noticed. She wet her lips. Who’d have expected her rescuer would be a fourteen-year-old boy with slumped shoulders and floppy curls?
She shot to her feet, tilting away from Jay. The conversation halted, but she ignored everyone in the room and instead rushed after Isaac. “Is that a cribbage set?”
He stopped in the arched doorway to the dining room, his back towards her. “Yes. Do you enjoy the game?”
There was so much hope in the single question that her heart ached for him. The way he asked almost reminded her of, well, herself. She drew in a breath.
“I do, though it’s better with two people.”
She bit the tip of her tongue, her eyes on his back, willing him to hear her.
He didn’t turn, but his head bowed in a nod. “It is. Do you really want to play with me?”
She could dance. She was saved.
“I’d love to.”
Where had Ursula gone? And Judah? He could wring both of their necks. He’d had worse meals, Rachel and Lydia were pleasant for a spell, but he could only do so much goalless flattering. Jay wrinkled his nose. Though both were bright, besides being exceedingly too young, they were, well, not clever. Intelligent, yes, but not clever. Not his taste by any stretch of the imagination.
He rose and gave an exaggerated yawn. “Ladies, it’s been lovely, but I should retire. It was quite the journey, especially as your cousin and I have a social engagement tomorrow evening.”
Jay searched for a servant to direct him to his room for the evening. As he passed the dining room Ursula’s rumbling laughter floated through the doorway. His stomach, well, not his stomach, a much lower area, sprang to life. He stopped, ear against a curio.
“In your parents’ bed? You’re terrible, Isaac.” Ursula devolved into giggles.
“The flies loved it though.” His volume matched hers, a shy pride in his tone. “The servants, not so much. I believe it took four washes and there’s still a faint scent.”
Jay grinned and peeked around the side. She’d thrown back her head, long curls cascading downward as she slapped the carved oak table.
“Just terrible, though I am fond of honey.” She snorted and the two laughed harder.
Why couldn’t he make her laugh like that? Wasn’t he amusing?
Nonsense. What was he even thinking? Her opinion shouldn’t matter. In a month or so, he’d be gone and never see her again.
Still, she was a curious case. Why could Ursula be so confident cutting him with her sly wit, but silent with her own cousin and a mousey little lawyer’s daughter, two years her junior? Why instead of spending time with him, did she tease and joke with a child?
It was of no consequence. He just needed to uphold his end of the bargain, assist with her plan and she’d do the same.
He’d sleep. Sleep would be the best course of action. Though he should’ve snuck some whiskey in one of his bags. Mere spirits were never enough and not what his body craved, but the stronger ones did take the edge off.
Jay swallowed. Paris. He’d go to Paris for several months, and to the new gambling casino in Monte Carlo. In Europe, he could forget or find something else, something that wouldn’t land him back in that awful place his parents stuck him last time.
He moved through more rooms until he revisited the staircase. Voices floated from the landing, or more one voice—Lydia’s.
&nb
sp; “Did you spy her dress? Can you believe her father permits her in public? She clearly knows nothing of modesty and is utterly ridiculous. Imagine what people say about her? Someone should tell the poor dear. Also, what sort of education did you say she had? Tutors? I don’t believe she reads anything, or at least nothing of any quality. No wonder they live in Delaware and don’t visit.”
