Page 34 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter

Jacques’s mouth flattened into a straight line, and I knew I was taking out all my upset about Silas on him.

He cleared his throat. “She reviews things for me. She is not employed. Andyouget to go to Paris whileshestays here and makessure my affairs are in order.” He took another bite. “We each have our roles, and we should play them.”

We spent the rest of dinner in silence, then Jacques returned to his study, and I returned to the gardens. I paced, my thoughts bubbling over with frustration about Jacques’s plans for me, my plans for myself and Silas, and my feelings for William.

And beneath all that was the ultimate worry—whether I would please Death, or fail.

Tangled in a knot, I was trapped, with no path forward.

“You’re going to walk yourself into a ditch,” William called out, a horse bridle in his hand.

I tucked myself beneath a trellis. The study was on the front side of the house, but voices could carry.

William followed. “I know you’re still waiting on Silas. I sent word for him. I know he’s trying to get away to see you before they leave again.”

“Everything is . . .”

He took my hand. “You have to be patient. Your time will come, and Silas is coming.” He gazed out into the garden, beyond the fence.

“But we’re leaving for Paris,” I whispered so maybe it would feel less true.

“I heard Miss Sarah talking about it.” His eyes flickered with sadness. “I’ve almost saved what I need so I can leave too.”

“Where will you go?” I asked.

“Anywhere I can live and be free.” I knew what he meant. The flimsy freeness of Nouvelle-Orléans was restrictive and fleeting.

“Why not come to Paris with us? I’m sure Jacques will need a good man on the ground.” I wished I could pull the words back into my lips. I wasn’t sure ifIshould go to Paris with Jacques, let alone with William in tow.

“Mr. Jacques is a good man, but ...” William glanced at the house.

“But what?”

William hesitated. “The more I get to know you, the more I think that ... and forgive me for my forwardness, but maybe he’s not the right man for you.”

His words sank into me, burning with truth.

“William—I don’t know what to say,” I told him.

“Nothing to say.” He shook his head. “He treats you about the same as he does his favorite mare, same as the rest of us. Like we’re his.” William shook his head again. “He’s not a bad man, but that doesn’t make him all the way good either.”

“How should I be treated, then?”

He laughed. “A damned sight better than a horse.”

I thought of Milly, stuck in that elaborate cage. Was I any better off?

“You should be treated like you’re the ‘earthly lullaby singing the sun to sleep.’”

Tears pricked as my words fell from his mouth. “So, you see me.”

“I see you as clear as day.” He grabbed my hand—his scarred and rough from work, so different from Jacques’s soft, pale ones. Despite William’s calluses, his caress was gentle.

I reached up and pulled his head down. His lips crashed onto mine, the bridle clattering down by our feet as we wrapped around each other.

William put everything into that kiss—his passion, yearning, and pain.

A fire erupted in my soul. It filled my whole body with heat. Nothing with Jacques had ever felt like this. William’s arms were warm and inviting, and I fell into them as his kisses grazed my lips and cheeks like worship.