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“Miss Nunes.” The Hales’ butler’s voice followed her up the staircase after she shoved him aside. She ripped off her own bonnet as she took the twisted stairs of the narrow townhouse two at a time.
Rose called to her as well, but she paid them no heed. The new, alternative plan was in full swing. Nothing would get in her way. If she slowed, she’d lose her nerve.
The door creaked and all four men at the poker table turned. Eyes widened at the sight of her. Each rose, as was proper. No matter their other sins, the entire group at least had rudimentary manners.
Ursula’s heart thudded in her ears as she approached.
Why was J.T. Truitt so tall? Not as tall as Jay, but he towered over her. The Truitt men were giants.
At least she was eye-to-eye with Silas Middleton—Hugo’s father, while Morris Reed, the man who sired Pricilla, only came to her shoulder. The fourth man, what was his name? He was some sort of lawyer—a friend of Middleton’s. He was a squirrely one. Jones or James—something like that. Lydia would probably know. And have opinions.
Ursula resisted a snicker.
She had to perform, had to be brave—had to be, well, whatever she was supposed to be for Jay. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
“Miss Nunes.” J.T.’s eyes were wide. “Why are you here? Where’s Jay? Aren’t you staying with your father’s family?”
“Jay and my father are attending to other business. I’m making calls alone today, with my maid as a chaperone.”
Show no fear, only dignity. In the end, that’s the one thing no one can take from you.
Right. What her mother said.
“I’m here to speak with you, for myself, and of my own accord. Neither Jay nor my father directed me nor knows I’m here.”
“Speak with us?” Reed raised his gray-tufted eyebrows. “Speak with us about what?”
Ursula clasped her hands together, so they wouldn’t shake. “Things have been said about my fiancé. Rumors, vicious false rumors—lies actually. He has been slandered.”
“Slander?” The lawyer with the “J” surname sneered at her. “That’s a very serious charge, Miss Nunes. Pray tell, what precisely do you mean?”
She clenched her fists, but locked on J.T. She’d get through to him, somehow. Regardless of what Jay claimed, he cared about his father’s opinions, even more than she cared about her father’s. Much more.
“There have been rumors regarding your son and one of the Pierpont servants.” She swallowed. “The family has accused Jay of fathering an illegitimate child. You’ve never met the mother or child, but I have it on authority her employer is demanding payment to keep the story quiet.” She forced herself not to look at Reed.
“There are rumors that young Jay sired quite a few children.” Middleton laughed. “You should’ve taught him to stick to whores who don’t ask names, J.T. That’s always been the rule in my family.”
Ursula’s stomach roiled as the man who might have been her father-in-law slapped Jay’s father on the back. J.T. grimaced, but his eyes never left hers.
She rose on her toes to peek at Middleton’s hand: a pair of tens, a jack, a five, and a two.
“Face the facts, Miss Nunes, you’re engaged to a cad who has warmed every bed on the eastern seaboard. You’ve made a rather bad bargain. J.T. here is constantly paying for his mistakes. I’m sure he’s relieved to have the Nunes contributions. Once you produce a legitimate heir, he’ll maintain your status and whatever dignity someone like you has, despite his son’s behavior,” Reed said.
What did he mean? She bit her tongue to stifle a gasp. How dare he? Her eyes stung. Was Jay the only man in his circle who believed women were more than china dolls to protect or bodies to use?
Also, poor Pricilla. Her own father might not always understand what she needed, but at least he recognized her as human. He certainly saw her as more than a mare to sell for breeding. Her womb constricted in sympathy for her enemy’s potential fate.
J.T. Truitt clenched his cards enough to show his three kings. “Miss Nunes, you need to leave. Please don’t pretend to be the authority on subjects you know nothing about. I’ve lived with and corrected my son’s mistakes for years. How long exactly have you known him?”
Her throat burned. A horrible truth washed over her. J.T. Truitt knew about Sophie’s pregnancy. It was written on his face. He’d paid someone, probably one of Sophie’s brothers, to keep that secret. Without telling his son. Without trusting him to take responsibility.
Any pity for the man who bore Jay vanished. In that moment she hated J.T. Truitt.
“Long enough to see, actually see him, something you haven’t done in years.” Her voice and body vibrated with rage.
She gathered the edges of her dress and squeezed the fabric, but the tremors didn’t cease. “My fiancé has only engaged with the utmost care and has taken precautions not to create illegiti
mate children.” She gulped down air, filling her lungs. She had to finish, put on a show for all the men, no matter how painful and terrifying. Jay needed that from her.
