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“Have you been conversing with my father?”
He raised an eyebrow and dared to wink at her like she was some barmaid. Why did people toy with her so much? Why couldn’t they leave her be? It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t.
“I like to argue I’m just a bit of an underachiever,” he added.
“Either way, I don’t think you have anything of value to offer me, Mr. Truitt, and I believe any negotiation would put you at a deep and unfair disadvantage. I try to be very careful with those who aren’t as blessed as I am in certain departments.”
She clutched at her gown. Good lord, she was sweating worse than Hugo.
Jay placed the glass on the floor. He shook his shoulders and spine, like a peacock fanning his tail. He was only inches from her so the rise and fall of his chest was visible. A faint scent—almost like cloves mixed with wood and a trace of sweetness, but tart, like cherries—flit towards her. She’d have bet on alcohol. There was a hint of liquor, maybe whiskey, but not overpowering nor even unpleasant. The look he gave her though, was another story—a squirm-inducing other story.
“You are certainly well-endowed, in more ways than one.” His eyes didn’t meet hers and instead settled several inches lower.
Oh, for the love of—well, at least the corset and dress did what they should. All the servants swore her figure was perfect, and the other girls were jealous, though that was probably a lie aimed at preventing the extra work of cleaning tear stains out of silk.
She gritted her teeth. She should slap him. She really should, and yet, somehow, she couldn’t muster the indignation. There was something—what was the word? Boyish, yes, almost boyish—that was it. And the way he teased was so...no. No, no, no, no.
How was he muddling her so much?
Ursula sighed. “What do you want, Mr. Truitt?” She might as well hear him out. She’d never see him again. After he finished, she’d find her father, plot in peace and everything would go her way. She’d make it.
“It’s Jay, and what I want is to become engaged. With you. To you.”
She blinked and swished the back of her teeth with her tongue. Just sugar, she hadn’t had any spirits so she wasn’t inebriated. But couldn’t have heard right. “Pardon me?”
“Tonight, if possible, though I suppose I’ll have to officially ask permission from your father tomorrow.” His lip twitched.
“Why?” The word was more of a gasp.
He had to be mad. Also, did he have to stand so close?
She wrinkled her nose. “Why would you want to become engaged to me? We don’t even know each other. We have nothing in common.”
And they didn’t. They might have been born less than two miles away from each other, in similar houses, but the gulf between their experiences could never be traversed. Jay lived in a world free of real consequences. His type paid a pittance, if anything, for their mistakes, while hers could execute flawlessly and still be denied even the smallest opportunities.
Ursula clenched her fists so hard she shook. “I mean, I’m serious and enjoy numbers and books. I need a husband to match my interests, one that will suit the Nunes businesses, and I’m sure people say you’re charming or some such nonsense, but I’m—”
A single finger pressed against her lips. She blinked again, over and over. She had to be dreaming. He couldn’t really be touching her mouth.
“I’m going to end that monologue before you say something you’ll regret, or more likely, before you say something you should regret. Though I’m not sure you’re capable of that emotion.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to actually marry you, Ursula.”
She grabbed his wrist, yanking his hand from her mouth by his sleeve. Excellent quality material and stitching. The man might be daft and kind of mean, but at least he had some taste.
“Then why do you want to...?” She couldn’t say all the words.
“You have a problem. You’d like entrance to some of Philadelphia’s most exclusive social engagements to convince Hugo Middleton’s parents to permit your nuptials, or, better convince him to—how do I put this delicately?—grow a spine. However, your last name, background, and certain incidents in your past, at least so I’ve heard, will make that rather difficult. I have no such issues, despite my reputation for excess. My name still impresses people. Better, people of a certain set covet what Truitts have. Jealousy is an excellent motivator.”
Ursula bit her lip. Why did he have to make actual sense? It would be much easier if he’d just passed out on the stairs or did something else irresponsible wastrels did. Worse, what was wrong with her that she was not only listening to, but considering his plan? Was marriage to Hugo worth that sort of humiliation?
An image of herself wandering her father’s estate in the dark, face wrinkled, in complete, oppressive silence flashed in her mind. No invitations. No visitors. Her father’s family wrestling any control of the business from her...she’d be so bored and lonely she’d start pretending her animals talked back.
Her heart squeezed.
Worth it. Very worth it. Because, honestly, who besides Hugo would even entertain the idea of marrying her? With her mother gone and no friends to speak of she needed someone.
She exhaled. “What do you want out of this arrangement?”
Jay turned and gazed at the foyer below. He ran his fingers through his hair. She moved next to him, imitating his position, her elbows resting on the glossy railing.
