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“What do you mean?” Jay forced his face blank for the lie though his heart pounded.
“You know exactly what I mean.” She’d moved her hand off his chest, planting both on her hips.
Blotches formed over her tanned skin. Her eyes slit. “Why did you sound almost like, well, me back there? Not normal me, me when I’m focusing on behaving myself and not doing anything wrong.”
Ursula slapped her hands on her thighs, emitting a grunt. Her curls bobbed.
“No, you were worse. You acted almost—slow. I never seem slow.” She wagged a finger at him. “More importantly, why do your father and cousins actually think you’re slow or not quite right? Jay, what’s going on?”
Her eyelids fluttered, revealing everything. The flashing anger was still strong, but something else had mixed in, a wetness. That would never do. That was the last thing he wanted.
Jay glanced down. How did he put his life into words, words she’d understand, words that wouldn’t make her think less of him? The back of his throat scalded. He blinked and swallowed, but he couldn’t rid himself of the sensation.
She sucked her lips inside her mouth so they disappeared. He’d better start talking. The truth was better than nothing, wasn’t it? Besides, this was Ursula, she’d always been an open book to him. A terrifying, dizzying, and at times delightful, read, but open. He owed her the truth—at least part of it, even if it damned him in her eyes.
“I’m not sure they think I’m slow.”
Jay turned the idea over in his head. Could they? He sighed.
“Well, maybe a little bit slow, more addled. My mother may think I’m slow. She makes excuses for me. That’s why I’m here—at her request. My
father knows better. He knows I’m just weak and a failure.”
“Why?” Deep lines appeared on Ursula’s brow. “I mean, despite your lack of effort in anything intellectual, or outwardly intellectual despite being given every advantage—”
She screwed her mouth to the side. Her concentrating face. At least that meant she was attempting to think before she spoke.
“I suppose there are the rumors regarding your behavior, but anyone who speaks with you for more than a minute or two can certainly tell that you aren’t a complete imbecile. In fact, actually, you’re quite clever, in your own sort of way.”
Jay smiled despite the stinging self-loathing coating his stomach. So inartful, and yet charming. Very fixable. He, however...he swallowed.
He yearned for some sort of contact, some sort of reassurance. He grabbed her hand and pulled her farther into the room, to a chaise by a window. Her skirts billowed and spread over his lap as they landed, still hand-in-hand.
“I apologize. This isn’t something I speak of a great deal and I wanted to—”
“Make sure no one else hears?” Ursula shrugged and leaned towards him, resting against his shoulder, almost as if she was being affectionate.
Someone happening upon the couple would probably think they were truly in love or at least about to wap. If only. His lower body strained. Bloody Hell. He needed his head rescrewed.
“Yes.” At least his brain still permitted him the correct response.
“So, explain yourself and your activities and manners and everything,” she demanded.
“It’s a long story.”
“There’s no one here but us and I doubt anyone will come searching. I suspect they think we’re engaged in something much more scandalous, though that’s starting to make me uncomfortable, not for my reputation, which is a bit troublesome, but more that your family might believe I’m the one taking advantage of you.”
Jay snorted. “Not my father. My father believes I’m more of a brute. As for everyone else, my reputation for scandal makes me more popular—makes people feel better about themselves. Why try to change that?”
Pressure built behind his eyes. Mercy, saying it all aloud was so pathetic and humiliating.
Jay crossed and uncrossed his legs. He craved pulling at his collar or running his fingers through his hair, but Ursula held his hand and he couldn’t bear to lose the connection.
“I’m tired and cold and this seems like a long story and I want to be comfortable.” She reclined further into his body and wrapped his arms around her, answering the unasked question.
He drew her closer, resting his hand in the perfect, soft place. Ursula snuggled deeper, flounces of silk blanketing his body. Jay smiled against her hair even as a lump welled in his throat. Why did nights with his family make him so out of sorts? The weight of her body against him—he closed his eyes. Her hair smelled of lavender again, like her gown, and perhaps roses and that same tart, dark fruit. Definitely cherries. Summer cherries. Much better than monkey.
“So, tell me the story,” she said.
