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Ursula’s shoulders tightened. He reached for her, but she’d already stepped across the room so she was inches from the pair. Circumstances raced downhill.
“This dress is of the latest fashion.” The gritting of Ursula’s teeth was unmistakable. “It was made for me by the finest dressmaker in the city.”
“Latest isn’t always the best. Not every fashion is for every person.” Nose in the air, Lydia chirped the words—the same way a crow would chirp. She cawed them.
Good lord. Ursula was going to throttle the girl, which was justified, but not advisable. He needed her for at least a few more weeks.
How could he fix this? Charm. He had to charm.
Jay forced a devil-may-care smile, grasped Ursula’s hand and brought it to his lips. Her head flipped to the side, confusion marring her features.
“Fortunately, Ursula could wear sackcloth and delight, the advantage of being born beautiful, an advantage both you ladies have as well.”
And he still had it.
Lydia opened her mouth, but was interrupted by another male voice. Thank goodness for Judah.
“It’s very late. Your father shall be most displeased to find you awake when he comes home. You had instructions to retire at your normal time. Isaac is in bed at least, correct?”
“Yes, Uncle Judah.” Rachel’s eyes were downcast.
He placed a hand on Jay’s shoulder.
“We should all get some sleep. I have meetings in the morning, and I’m sure you and my daughter have more engagements for which to prepare.”
“Excellent idea.” Jay turned and nodded to the man.
Jay clasped Ursula’s hand and pulled her towards the stairs before anything else could happen.
“Mr. Truitt,” Judah called.
He halted.
“Perhaps my daughter should go ahead to her bedchamber and then you’ll use the staircase after the other ladies.”
He flushed.
Right.
Funny how leading Ursula upstairs with him was second nature.
Lydia tittered. Ursula snapped her head around and shot the girl a glare. Jay closed his eyes, but opened them in time to see the nose wrinkle and smirk from Lydia. Time for another demonstration of skill. He yawned.
“Why don’t you start? Your father has a point. I’m sure Rose is itching to help you and hear about the evening.”
Ursula turned back to him, the anger clear on her face. She was so expressive. Though refreshing and beautiful to him, it was a hindrance, a major one. Poor Ursula.
She narrowed her eyes at him and sniffed before grabbing her skirts and flouncing up the stairs. Jay chuckled. She was growing on him. What exactly did she look like without the petticoats and hoops? Her legs were probably long and slender and—
“Good night, Mr. Truitt.” Rachel and Lydia brushed past him.
“Get some rest.” Judah’s voice echoed from the foot of the stairs. He caught a glimpse of a suppressed laugh before Judah bowed his head and passed. The man was uncanny.
* * *
Nevertheless, neither Judah’s face nor the fantasies of Ursula’s limbs was what had kept Jay awake four hours later. He tossed back and forth from his front to his side to his back, but could not ease his twitching appendages. The worry would not cease nor would the cravings, the desire for the only thing that ever made his mind stop.
How many years since that first trip to Hong Kong, that introduction to his cure and his curse? Wine, champagne, whiskey, women, none of them held a candle to the hours and days when he could just not be—he could be free from the guilt, the memories, and most of all Sophie’s ghost.
