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It seemed there were two servants here, a couple in their 40s named Tilly and Armand, who had already gone to their separate quarters in the back, so Hugo warmed up some of the supper Tilly had made earlier.

“What happened?” Hugo asked gently. “Congratulations on your pregnancy, by the way. You look beautiful, and I hope your baby is doing well.”

There was a massive lump in my throat, and I could only be miserably grateful that he hadn’t commented on the shame marked in dark, angry lines across my forehead.

“My baby is doing well. He—Étienne—doesn’t think it’s his.”

Hugo’s brows drew together.

“Why?”

I bowed my head, expecting this kind man’s demeanor to change entirely once I confessed the truth.

“I—it’s so embarrassing, but he caught me in the bedroom with—your other brother Mano! At our baby shower, too! So of course then he wondered who actually was the father of my baby.”

I flushed, aware of how shameful this must look to him.

“But I swear I had no idea Mano was there, or even why he was there. Or why he would put me in such a compromising position! Then Étienne--he had me take a paternity test and the baby isn’t his! But that’s impossible, and I have been wracking my brains trying to figure out how something like this happened. I know it’s impossible because I’ve only ever slept with him!”

There was a pause for a moment.

“Who else was there at the baby shower?” Hugo asked.

“Oh—my husband, your—mother, Mano, and—Faustine. My family, all except for my father, who has been away. Several of the other prominent families.”

“Ah,” Hugo said.

There was another pause.

“Eat now,” he said, but there was still kindness in his voice, so I forced myself to choke down some of the ham, the fondant potatoes, even though I wasn’t hungry at all.

“L’enfant needs the nourishment,” Hugo said gently when I paused. “I’ll have Tilly make some leek soup tomorrow. Something a little lighter and easier to get down.”

Tomorrow. How many tomorrows would I be here?

“Thank you,” I said.

My belly brushed against the table, and I felt a solid, sturdy kick, a ripple across my belly.

How excited I’d been to feel the first twinges of nausea. After that long engagement, to get pregnant practically on our first month together was such a blessing. I felt so favored. So lucky.

When we first got married I’d asked my husband, very awkwardly and shyly, if I should be on birth control, and he’d only run strong fingers down my body, making goosebumps break out and shivers run up and down my spine.

“Not for you, Léonie. I want a baby.”

And I’d gotten pregnant. Been so proud, that he was happy, that I’d pleased him, that here was something only I could give him.

And now—he didn’t even want me or the baby.

Hugo led me down the hallway to his bedroom. His room was cozy, with its own fireplace, and filled with bookshelves.

“I can’t take your room,” I protested, but he shook his head.

“They’ll keep me locked up here, but never fail to consult me about things like logistics for the business. What you see here are my bribes for good behavior.”

He smiled again, finding a bitter amusement in the Bastides.

It did not seem fair to me, and I didn’t know how Placidie could accept this state of affairs. If it was my son, I would move heaven and hell to get him out of imprisonment.