Page 10 of Appetites & Vices (The Truitts 1)

No reaction, no weakness. Weakness invites predators.

Why was the only safe place her father’s house? Or alone somewhere with Hugo? Or...well...she wasn’t safe, per se...but in the carriage, with Jay...there wasn’t malice, for once. And no games she’d never win.

Her father shifted on his feet. “You and Ursula must be tired and hungry. The staff has leftover supper for you. I’m sure the young ladies can keep you company while you eat.”

Was he joking? She barely knew Rachel and this Lydia girl—he had to notice the expressions, the glares that always followed, like the ones directed at her mother. It was as if everyone could see the Nunes women weren’t quite right, weren’t quite what they were supposed to be.

Ursula tucked her thumbs into her fists and followed Jay to a settee.

He beamed another irritating, full teeth-showing grin at both younger girls, while a maid handed him stew. He nodded in thanks, never taking his eyes off the two people across from him, like they were the only ones in the room. “How is the season going for you?”

Rachel lowered her gaze and blushed, but Lydia released a full, horse-like laugh.

“Oh Mr. Truitt, you’re too kind. Rachel and I aren’t old enough to be thinking about anything like that, though there was a Jewish debut here in Philadelphia this year. Now, though, we’re much more concerned with our school work and some of the local charities.”

Ursula sucked in her snickers so hard she had to cover her choking with coughs. Lydia might want to study harder if a single word from Jay Truitt turned her into a giggling ninny.

Three heads swiveled towards her, with expressions ranging from Rachel’s anxious triple blink to Jay’s suspicious squint. Well, a smug, knowing sort of suspicious.

“Must be dust from the road,” she stammered.

The corner of Jay’s mouth twitched, but his face remained earnest as he refocused on the girls. “And what do you most enjoy studying?”

“Well, Rachel has such beautiful penmanship, and I’m known for my recitations.” Lydia flapped her fan and batted her lashes. The combination though was a bit difficult for the girl and soon her eyes opened and shut at different intervals, giving her a daft affect.

Snickers were easier to cover than snorting, unfortunately. Jay solved the issue by stepping on her toe. Hard. Her yelp of pain did the trick.

Ursula studied his face: no amusement whatsoever, and yet, the gleam in his eye said something different. How was he so good at this game? Moreover, why could she never be anywhere near that good?

“They’re wonderful, Lydia.” Rachel’s melodious, serene voice warmed the space. She squeezed her friend’s hand.

Her amusement fled as pressure filled Ursula’s throat. No one outside her parents ever touched her in such a kind way, not even Hugo, certainly no other girl her own age.

“You’ll have to recite some for us later. You like poetry, don’t you, Ursula?” Jay’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes, poetry is lovely.” She forced her voice steady and vague. Her tone and words must reveal nothing. She couldn’t make a mistake that way.

Poetry wasn’t an interest, though she knew her way around popular verses if pressed. She dug her nails into her palms.

Rachel’s friend was probably an expert and, based on some previous, painful experiences, angling for a competition, one designed for Ursula to lose. She needed to prepare. When it happened, she wouldn’t get mad. Or worse, cry.

She brought food to her lips and tasted nothing. A constant cycle of déjà vu.

Lydia clasped her hands together. “I adore Coleridge, Lord Byron, and Tennyson. Of course, there’s also our Jewish studies. I know all of David’s psalms by heart, though I don’t suppose either of you are familiar. Rachel and I are both in Ms. Gratz’s new Sunday school. It’s such a shame you don’t have any real education that way.”

She shot Ursula a pitying look.

“Yes. It’s unfortunate I don’t live in Philadelphia.” Ursula stared at her hands.

Was it? If she’d been raised around her cousins and their ilk would she fit, make sense?

Jay’s eyes were on her, but she couldn’t look up because if she did he’d see—everything.

Lydia nodded. “You might have met some of our lovely young Jewish men instead of meeting who you met. I mean no offense, Mr. Truitt, you seem very nice.”

Ursula swallowed. Her arrangement with Jay wasn’t secret. Well, not from her father, but the way Lydia spoke...would it be better if she did or didn’t know? Also, how did Lydia get away with saying things like that and still have friends? Even she wasn’t that inept but had no one. The tears burned just below the surface. Why had she even come?

“I’m really not, at least not until Ursula.” Jay’s voice cut in, making the decision for her. “Just one look at her and I was forever lost. I’m a completely changed man, with nary a hint of my previous lifestyle.”

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