Page 58 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“Here we are!” the owner said, interrupting us as he popped a plate onto our table, the scent of heavy spices floating toward us from the crispy balls stuffed with potatoes and chickpeas, heavily doused with sauce.
“Come. No more talk of business.” Rohan plucked a hollow ball from the plate. “It’s calledpani puri. Try some.”
Heat, spice, and tamarind exploded in my mouth.
“Now, how is that for food?” he said, grinning.
“Oh my goodness,” I said, the flavors reminding me of my travels through Freetown, Constantinople, and Algiers: a tremendous contrast to the subtler tastes of standard British fare. “The best thing I’ve had since I’ve been here.”
A pleasant silence stretched between us as we devoured the dish. Though this was all a new experience, I felt more at home than I had in ages. I’d forgotten what it was like to relax.
“So, you mentioned your uncle’s plans for you. Do you have any for yourself?”
He bit into his last fritter, bliss blossoming over his face as he considered the question. “It’s been the plan since birth: study, marry, and work in the family business, supporting my uncle’s trading house, and have children.”
I marveled at his plans for a long moment, part of me wishing I could have something as neat and tidy. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Of course. Family is everything, and this is my duty. Besides, it puts me at ease. I have friends who flounder about, wondering what to do. Should they study law? Medicine? Strike out someplace new or stay where they are? For me, it’s simpler. Help grow my uncle’s business. Leave a legacy.”
The word “legacy” haunted me, conjuring Death’s words from the day we’d made our bet: “You shall have no descendants. No family. No tangible legacy on this earth. Only the words you write for me.”
Rohan made it all seem so simple; he was a captain charting his voyage to a well-known port, his arrival assured. As I took anothernibble ofpani puri, I thought about all the pieces I’d anonymously written and all the anonymous donations I’d given. The price of the bet finally crystallized inside me as solidly as Rohan’s destiny—total anonymity.
“Could you show me a bit of the business?” I interrupted to change the topic of conversation.
“Are you asking to see me again, Arden?” His mustache twitched as he fought away a smile.
“Isthatwhat you heard? Hmm. Interesting.” I tried not to like him. I had not loved anyone in so long, and I was afraid to open to the possibility. But the more we talked, the more at ease I was in his company.
“In any case,” he said, “I accept. I’ll arrange a visit to our offices on Cumberland Street, and we’ll make a day of it.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
We stepped back outside as the sun kissed the horizon, coloring the gray sky a pale pink and casting long shadows. The last of a summer breeze found its way through my skirts. My carriage and footman waited on the corner, tucked out of sight. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know that I had one of my own. I’d become skillful at hiding my wealth.
“I thank you for the food and the trip,” I said.
“Surely you don’t think I can leave you here. I insist on making sure you make it home properly to your family.”
I couldn’t tell him that I had no family, that I lived in a mews house in Kensington by myself.
“My footman is here.” I motioned toward the carriage. A small shock registered on his face.
“Allow me to escort you like a proper gentleman does.” He led me by the small of my back.
“Would you call yourself a ‘proper gentleman,’ then?”
“I think you’ll find I’m among the very best.” Rohan stopped under the shade of the carriage roof and waited, suspended in that time ofneeding to go but wanting to stay, unwilling to break the thread of magic that laced the moment. “Will you permit me one indulgence?”
I worried my lower lip, and my senses filled with the scent of apples. My past always seemed to be chasing my present. “Yes.”
He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t shrink from him. Instead, curious, I silently tilted my chin toward him. He brushed his lips across my cheek, the movement soft, his touch gentle. I’d thought a kiss might feel like a betrayal to René, but instead, it only reminded me of how long I’d been in solitude.
He stepped back, smiling. “Until next time.”
“Until next time,” I repeated.
I ducked into my carriage, purse swinging in my hand, a lightness to my heart, anticipating our next encounter.
