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Before she could tell him that she would not be having spirits, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone. She sighed. So much for rising to the challenge. Where to wait? She glanced around for a space to occupy, where she could plan. She’d need to have her own because Jay—
“Who died?”
Why? Why did Priscilla Reed have to be here? This was Philadelphia, not Wilmington. Ursula bit her tongue. Could she not just start over, be someone new here instead of having everything—and—everyone from her past follow her?
“What?” Ursula managed to stammer.
“The purple. You aren’t still in mourning for your mother, are you?” Priscilla rolled her eyes.
Ugh, she should’ve listened when Rose warned her about the color. Ludicrousness. What was wrong with these people? Also, how did one respond to that?
Fortunately, she didn’t need to answer. Priscilla wagged a finger close enough to make Ursula flinch.
“You’re engaged to Jay Truitt.” Not a question, not a statement, the remark was an accusation.
“Yes.” Ursula tucked in her shoulders as the girl stepped closer. If only she’d hid behind the drapery. Priscilla was no mere garter snake. Her family was connected, and, for unfathomable reasons, all their peers adored her. Whatever Priscilla did, the other girls copied. Everything she liked was what they liked and everything or person she didn’t...
“Where is he?” Priscilla sniffed and glanced to her side, her eyes darting.
“Oh, just going to get some refreshments.”
Hurry. Please let Jay hurry. Or, Hugo. If only Hugo was around, they could disappear somewhere quiet. He’d have one of his books to share, and she wouldn’t have to be stuck waiting for whatever hideous thing Priscilla was going to say or do. At least there weren’t any tempting items within reach. She’d not throw her fan, she wouldn’t.
“It’s so sweet that you trust him. You must really be in love,” Priscilla continued.
Ursula clasped her hands behind her back to prevent herself from drumming on her leg. Where was her out? If only she could duck behind the potted fern near the stairs.
“Of course, I’m in love with him and trust him. We wouldn’t be engaged if I didn’t.”
“Well...” Priscilla drew out the word, so it had at least three syllables.
“What?” Oh, for goodness’ sake, she was treading into a trap, wasn’t she?
“We—come join us, Agnes, Katherine.” Priscilla motioned to two other women about her own age. The first was a distant cousin of Priscilla’s. There had been an incident years ago.
Officious fool with the creativity of a dead squirrel, might have been the line she used. Her mother had been punished after that one too, never asked to join a committee again. The evening was just becoming better and better.
The second girl, the pale brunette between the two redheads, was an unknown quantity. Likely a Philadelphia socialite who wielded inordinate amounts of power the cousins would use to blackball Ursula. At least Jay would be useful for something. There wasn’t much the Truitt name couldn’t conquer, in or outside Delaware.
“Jay Truitt has a reputation. I suppose his name and money can make a great deal of women, especially those less fortunate, ignore certain behavior,” Priscilla almost sang.
Ursula dug her nails into her palms so as not to use them. Who did Priscilla think she was? Yes, Jay enjoyed certain activities, but what made Priscilla think he would be so unsatisfied with her already? She gritted her teeth.
“How fortunate it is that the Nunes banks don’t need more money, and the name holds cachet in certain circles.”
“Not in these circles.”
Goodness, Agnes was bold. Ursula squinted. Right, she’d slapped the girl too, but only after Agnes mocked the way her mother held her utensils.
&nbs
p; “Who said I desired cachet in these circles? This has been a lovely party so far, but just as lovely as anything in Wilmington. Jay has been so many other places too, New Orleans, Paris—”
“Yes, I’m sure he’s still carrying some of those experiences with him.” Priscilla smirked.
Ursula nibbled her tongue. What was she talking about—bloody Hell. Possibly true, but coming from Priscilla’s mouth it was just odious and unfair.
If only she was a man. She could ask the two to step outside and prevail with a single punch. Or better yet, yank out every single strand of overdone hair on the woman’s head. Now though, she had to think of something to say, the right thing to say, and she was failing.
