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“So, my way is the only way we have. We’ll have to both be satisfied with it.” The weight on her lungs grew heavier. She had to find more air. She had to grab Jay and her father and retreat to the carriage. Now. She hitched her skirts. “You’ll call tomorrow or the next day and we can discuss this more.”
Hugo nodded but didn’t even meet her eye. What could she do to make him behave how she wanted him to? She nibbled on her lip. What would Jay do?
Several images flashed through her mind.
Certainly nothing that involved a condom would be appropriate, but maybe, a kiss? People liked kisses and people who were to be married should enjoy kissing each other.
She twisted her pendant between her fingers.
Should she? They were behind a post.
Heart in her throat, she leaned forward. He lifted his chin, and she pressed upward so her lips were against his. She halted, and he paused, and the two were locked for a moment.
Ursula blinked. Shouldn’t he pull her closer or wrap an arm around her waist? Shouldn’t she be feeling—something? Shouldn’t someone part their lips? She had to be doing it wrong. They were kissing, but her stomach remained the same, stale and dull. What was the matter with her?
Hadn’t her parents felt something when they kissed? She skimmed her hazy memories for some vision of the two of them embracing, but...nothing. Why could she memorize lists of clients in one reading, but could not recall one time her parents danced together or showed any physical affection?
Hugo pulled back, clasped her hands and squeezed.
“I’ll send my card, Ursula. We shall talk.”
Before she could say another word, he slipped past her, into the party. Her back hit brick. What in the world was that?
* * *
Jay crossed and uncrossed his legs in the tight space between Ursula’s father and the embossed carriage wall. His fiancée’d said nothing to him since they entered the vehicle. She’d said nothing to her father, either, so perhaps he wasn’t the issue. Still, they’d had a good time. What happened to change her? Did she run into Priscilla and her ladies-in-waiting before leaving? That was certainly possible. The Reeds were bad news. Very old political family, though the modern era had not been kind to them.
First, there was Jackson destroying the national bank and ruining the economy, especially for mercantile investors like Priscilla’s parents. After that, a cousin married into that Pierce family from New Hampshire. The anti-abolitionist one. Tied to Van Buren too and well, he wasn’t president anymore, was he?
Now, given the climate in Philadelphia, Priscilla would be nervous about her own prospects despite her popularity. Even without her past deeds, Ursula would’ve been a target for her: Jewish, connected to the European banking industry and socially...“incompetent” was too unkind a word...let’s say “challenged.” He’d find a gentle way to ask.
He glanced at Ursula. She’d leaned her forehead on the carriage window, the shimmery lace curtain catching her brow. Liquid pooled in her eyes, but didn’t fall. Her mouth was set in a scowl. He grimaced. In a very gentle way.
Once in the house, she didn’t give him much of a chance to speak as she brushed past.
“What happened?” Judah asked. The man was shorter, but his brows alone could fell a man, and the expression on his face at the mere possibility Jay caused his precious daughter’s distress...well, he’d want no part of the man in such a state.
Jay shrugged at his faux future father-in-law. “Damned if I know. Priscilla Reed gave her some trouble early on and Carolina Wilson suggested that she and I engaged in certain acts—which we most certainly have not—but I thought she’d moved past both of those slights. Did you see her speaking with anyone while I was fetching her wrap?”
“No.” Judah pinched his eyebrows together. “These events are fraught for my daughter. Things can happen in mere moments. Life would, in many ways, have been easier had she been born male.” The man ran a hand through his thick thatch of hair. “No matter how much I enjoy her as she is.”
“She’s exactly like you. All her phrasing, each and every syllable, the gestures too, she couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s daughter,” Jay said.
Judah opened his mouth and closed it, twice, wi
th no sound. He lifted a finger as if he was about to speak, but said nothing. His eyes flashed with almost anger.
Jay faltered. What had he done now? The statement was a compliment. The Nuneses were confounding.
Before he could mend the situation, female voices floated through the entrance area.
“How was the party?” Rachel asked.
“Fine.” Ursula’s voice was flat.
Jay pushed into the house and came behind her, facing Rachel and Lydia, together, again, on the garish parlor chaise. Terrible omen. What were they still doing downstairs?
“I’m sure all the gentlemen enjoyed your, or I suppose their, presence.” Lydia’s nasal remark could probably be heard on the street. Her thin lips curled in a sneer.
