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“I adore Hugo. He’s the only person in Delaware, other than my parents, who never mocked me. When we were little, I was at one of his cousins’ for tea and I was in the garden crying because a few of the other girls, well—” Ursula swallowed again. “My mother dressed me. I always thought her beautiful, though looking back on it, she never was quite in fashion.”
Ursula wrinkled her brow. “I also might have fibbed a little so to not look foolish and really, how was I supposed to know that a kaleidoscope wasn’t a medical device and...”
Oh, why did she have to do that? Why did she have to be human too?
“Lot of tears?” he asked.
“Only after I screamed at them, called them a whole host of improper names that gentiles are particular about, and, perhaps, threw a chafing dish.”
Ursula smiled, though her eyes glimmered a bit too bright. “But Hugo wandered into the garden and sat with me and we talked. He read the same books I read. We were both thrilled by Fourier’s Analyse des equations determines, and I’m not sure, after that we found excuses to sit with each other and just read or discuss topics that matter.”
And that was the thing of it, wasn’t it? They were friends. That explained so much. An odd friendship, but Hugo was so meek, studious, and quiet that people often forgot he existed. Ursula was probably one of the only people who even noticed him.
Jay frowned. Before he could say anything more Ursula released a loud sigh. She fished a leather-bound volume out of her valise and flipped through the pages, twisting her mouth to the side again and tugging at a curl.
Odd, but endearing.
Why did those two words always pop into his head when he watched her? She wound the curl harder as she became more and more engrossed. The cat gave him a warning hiss. He bared his teeth back at her. Ridiculous beast. Ursula didn’t even notice. Now he was curious.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
She paused but didn’t meet his eye. “Just the books for one of the companies Nunes invested in. We only have a small stake, but I like to personally verify the summaries we receive. We get sent copies of the books every three months.”
She gestured as she explained, knocking the window so the monkey shuddered. Her voice grew in volume and enthusiasm though she still didn’t lift her head. Was it so interesting she wouldn’t even look at him? What was the m
atter with her?
“Don’t you have a bookkeeper?” he asked.
“He reviews it first. I study it second.” She waved a hand, dismissing him. She was serious. A balance sheet, with numbers, beat him, Jay Truitt, for her attention.
Jay caught the maid’s eye. Her lips pressed together as if to hold in laughter. He returned his gaze to the top of Ursula’s head.
“Do you find mistakes?”
“Sometimes.” She ran her pointer finger over each line. “Those usually are found in the books of the charities we support. Those bookkeepers aren’t well paid, despite my suggestions.”
His lip curled at the image of her arguing with bored society ladies over what to pay charitable staff. That must go well.
She didn’t wait for a verbal response. “It’s more to know if we want to increase our investment or cut our losses. If there are suggestions to be made, I write them down for my father and he writes to the companies. Sometimes they take the suggestions, sometimes they don’t, but I watch. The bank is the primary source of income, but I’d like to carve out alternative sources, make the investment wing of Nunes really thrive.”
The more Ursula spoke, the faster and more animated her voice grew. Her head, though, remained down, her eyes on the drab white pages in her lap, all her pretty features obscured.
“Do you ever make eye contact when you speak?” He almost covered his mouth. Why was her bluntness so contagious?
She lifted her chin and bright blue eyes glistened. Topaz, no sapphire, no something more brilliant nature hadn’t yet discovered. Jay’s breath hitched. All that passion. She was breathtaking.
“I’m not skilled at eye contact. Besides, I’m concentrating.” Down went her head again, the light hidden once more.
“Fair enough. I suppose I should’ve brought some reading material,” he said.
“Oh, you know how?”
His mouth flew open. What had he done to deserve the immediate insult? And more, how did Ursula, with all her social ineptitude, know exactly where to land her blow?
I’d like an explanation of these marks, Jay. Are you stupid, lazy, or plain disrespectful?
Dizzy, Jay willed down the echoes of his father.
