by Calia Read
So I’ve kept silent. Especially with Momma in my personal space. In the past, I’d turn to Miles when I’m sad, and with his stable energy gone, I feel as though I’m falling with no one to catch me.
What I need is privacy so I can cry. If I’ve learned anything from the losses in my life, it’s that a good, long cry can make me feel surprisingly better.
A soft knock on the door interrupts our bickering. Immediately, Momma’s demeanor changes. Her eyes soften, lips curl upward.
Fight? What fight? We’re simply a mother and a daughter spending quality time together.
“Come in,” Momma calls out.
One of the maids peeks her head into the room. She appears undaunted by the mess Momma has made and looks at me. “Ma’am, there’s a Mr. Lacroix to see you.”
Momma and I glance at one another in confusion. What is he doing here? I have no bachelor to see, and there’s no important discussions we need to have.
I smile at the maid. “Thank you, I’ll be down shortly.”
She closes the door, and I fix my blouse and skirt.
“Did you know he was payin’ you a visit?”
“No.” But I’m glad he is.
“Then what does he need?”
“God only knows,” I say as I walk out of the room.
“The seamstress will be here in ten minutes!” Momma calls out behind me.
“I know, I know,” I call out.
My footsteps echo in the foyer as I nearly fly down the stairs. I try to slow down. I haven’t seen him since the night we made love. I’ve missed him more than I should and couldn’t stop thinking about the next time he would come to my room.
I step through the doorway and see the figure he cuts in his suit. I can’t fight the smile that pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“Hello. This is certainly a surprise,” I say.
Livingston turns. “We need to talk.”
There are certain expressions one makes that will stop you dead in your tracks. The somber look in Livingston’s eyes and the strain around his lips cause me to do just that.
“What is the matter? Who’s hurt?” I rush forward until the tips of my shoes brush against Livingston’s. “Is it Serene? I know she just had baby Julian, but has somethin’—”
“No, no,” Livingston cuts in. “I just left Belgrave. Serene and the baby are fine.”
I sigh with relief and then immediately become suspicious about what caused that look on his face. “Then what?”
Perhaps it was me. Maybe he’s here to show regret over what we did. Please don’t let that be true.
“As I was on my way out, Étienne received a telegram.” Livingston pauses. “Oliver passed away last night.”
I rear back, not because I’m shocked or devastated, but because for the small moment, as I process the news, I’m relieved it isn’t Nat. That makes me a terrible human being. My closest friend just lost her husband.
“My word,” I whisper.
Livingston nods. “I wanted to inform you before the news spreads through Charleston.”
I shake my head and stare down at the floor.
Livingston hesitates over his next words. “Nat said she attempted to call you, but she was unsuccessful.”
I would love to say Momma was opposed to modern advances, but given the fact Livingston had undoubtedly passed the rotary phone in the hall numerous times, there was no way I could say that. We had to curtail our spending as best as possible, and since it was clear Momma wasn’t willing to reduce her time spent at the shops, I took matters into my own hands. I never thought the subject would come up.
“Hmm … I don’t know why I didn’t receive her call.” I furrow my brows and feign confusion. “I just made a call yesterday.”
Livingston slowly nods, appearing unconvinced. “It’s fine. She was unable to speak with Étienne and sent him a telegram.”
I begin to fuss with the collar of my shirt. I want to speak with Nat right this second, see her. Let her know that everything is all right. “When is the funeral?”
“I’m uncertain. All I know is Oliver is dead, and I need to get to my sister.”
Rapidly, I nod. “When are you leavin’?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I’m goin’ with you.”
At that, Livingston lifts a brow. “And leave all your bachelors behind?”
I thought we could have a moment without the bachelors being mentioned. Apparently, I was wrong. Impatiently, I fling a hand in the air, ready to change the subject. “They aren’t important right now. I’ll go with you.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Livingston looks at me. “It’s August 23rd. There’s only a week and a half left to spend time with your remainin’ bachelors.”
“I understand there’s a time constraint to find a husband, but I want to go with you. I need to be with you and Nat.”
Livingston remains quiet. Giving the open doorway a quick look, I step forward and slide my arms around his narrow waist. I lay my cheek against his chest and inhale the clean scent of him. At once, my restlessness dissolves in his arms. Slowly, Livingston’s arms band around me. I feel his chin rest against the crown of my head.
We stand like that for several seconds, simply embracing one another.
“All right,” he finally says, his voice gruff. “We’ll go together.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Livingston
Almost immediately, plans were set in motion.
Bags were packed. Calls and telegrams were sent. Train tickets to Savannah, Georgia, were purchased. The adrenaline I feel the night before we leave is akin to what I felt while I was in France.
Because Serene had just delivered Julian, she and Étienne were staying in Charleston with their children. I overheard Serene telling Étienne to go, but he said he couldn’t leave her and the kids.
Instead, I would be traveling with the most unlikely of companions.
At seven in the morning, I used the brass knocker and waited for someone to answer. A servant answers, steps aside, and immediately dips their head as though they’ve been expecting me. “Good mornin’, Mr. Lacroix.”
“I’m here for Mrs. Pleasonton and Miss Rainey.”
“Of course,” their butler, Stanley, says. “Please come in.”
I know the Pleasonton house as though it’s my own home. I’ve hidden in the cupboards, ran through the narrow halls, slid down the banister, and received a tongue-lashing of the century from Mrs. Pleasonton. And most recently, I climbed the tree outside Rainey’s room to see if our carnal kisses were all in my imagination. It turns out, they weren’t. For whatever reason, there was a spark between Rainey and me that neither one of us anticipated. Perhaps, when you dislike someone long enough, the animosity can burn bright enough to start a fire. That’s what I’ve been telling myself, and what I will continue to tell myself for this entire trip. Otherwise, the small morsel of sanity I have left will kick in and tell me how foolish it is to travel with someone I desire so much.
At that moment, I hear Rainey and Leonore talking upstairs. They round the corner and begin to walk down the stairs. Whatever they’re discussing must be consuming because neither one notices me standing beside the front door. When they reach the first floor, Rainey sighs and sets her valise on the floor.
Leonore takes the opportunity to give her a good look. “Raina, did you dress in the dark?”
Rainey looks down and smooths a hand across her navy blue blouse. “There is nothin’ wrong with my attire.”
“If you wear the skirt one more day, the material is gonna tear.”
I think she looks exquisite. I didn’t come to her last night. I thought it’d be best if I let her rest before the journey, but I missed her. God did I ever.
She will choose a bachelor soon! You can’t keep her forever.
But could I? Not for the first time have I thought of what it would be like if she was mine. Rainey would never settle as a mistress. I would find another arrow bein
g directed at me if I made the proposition. And this time, she wouldn’t miss her mark.
All the same, the bachelor debacle has shown one thing—Rainey truly desires a family. A life of her own. She deserves that, and I don’t know if I could give her that. But the thought of her laying with another man … it sends me into a tailspin. My calm demeanor disappears altogether and I feel as if I might rip every bachelor limb from limb.
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Rainey murmurs beneath her breath, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Leonore opens her mouth, but immediately stops when she sees me standing in the foyer, and her demeanor promptly brightens. “Livingston.”
I smile at her and step forward. “Mrs. Pleasonton, it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“Please forgive us for carryin’ on. I wasn’t made aware you were here.”
“I came early.”
“Lord have mercy.” She places a hand on her chest over her heart while their trunks are carried to the car. “My heart breaks for your dear sister and your family’s loss.”
Rainey stands beside her mother. She doesn’t say a single word, but she does look at me from out of the corner of her eye for a scant second. I take that moment to greet her. “Rainey, good mornin’.”
“Mornin’, Livingston.” Her reply is calm.
I try to catch her gaze once more, but she busies herself with her hat. Leonore remains unaware, as she’s already begun giving orders to the servants to take the bags to the car.
Rainey and I follow Leonore outside. In the early morning, the humidity hasn’t had an opportunity to claim the outdoors. Within a few hours, it will be impossible to walk outside without becoming coated in a thick layer of sweat.
Rainey sighs. “It’s a lovely day to travel.”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye. “Indeed.”
Are we having a conversation about the weather? As though we’re two acquaintances who have fortuitously met one another on the street and have nothing else to speak instead of.
Before Rainey can get into the car, I step into her way. Patiently, she stares at me. She doesn’t blush, and she certainly doesn’t giggle or send me a coy smile. It’s as though we never kissed, touched, or made love.
It is most interesting.
“I trust you’re doin’ well?”
She dips her head. “Quite.”
I watch her carefully. “Did you sleep okay?”
“All things considered.” Right then she lifts her gaze. My heartbeat stutters and stops. “Did you sleep all right?”
I slept as though my bed was a pile of bricks. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable, and it was because I didn’t have a wild savage whose loyal companion was her bow and arrow. I slept a grand total of two hours. Eventually, I gave up the fight when the sun began to rise, and with a sober head, I wished I was in her bed. “As well as can be,” I reply.
“Well then. We both had a pleasant night of sleep. Most remarkable.”
I don’t want to stand there and speak of pleasantries. We both have perfected the art of Southern charm. What I truly want to do is take her in my arms and kiss her, and ask if she thought about me last night as much as I thought of her.
“I believe we have a train to catch?” Rainey says.
Shaking my head slightly, I step to the side and gesture for her to move in front of me. “After you.”
Rainey smiles at me. A smile that’s been given hundreds of times, but now feels remarkably intimate. She gives that smile after she’s made love. My heart stops and stutters again. When did I become a panting schoolboy for her?
Dear God, this is a going to be one hell of a trip. I’ve survived war, but I don’t know if I will survive Rainey.
As I get into the car, I observe the woman who’s been unwittingly making my nights better. All this time, I thought I knew her. But who is Rainey Pleasonton? I think I could look at her a thousand times, talk to her in a million ways, and still find something new.
And for some reason I can’t explain, that’s utterly terrifying to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rainey
The trip to Savannah is wrought with tension.
I cling to my momma’s prattling like a lifeline while Livingston sits across from us. When he isn’t reading the paper, dozing off, he’s looking at me with eyes half-mast. I feigned indifference as though I was the same Rainey who continued to view Livingston as she always did.
But after the nights in my room, that’s no longer an option.
Like one of the love-sick women who pines for him, he’s frequently on my mind. I thought about what he was doing and who he was with. The nights we had together weren’t enough. I felt starved for more.
My emotions were altogether unsettling. Sooner than later, I would become sated and filled. Until then, I would try my best to be cordial. Friendly, almost. There’s a good chance it came across as stiff, but I was determined for the world to know that I was not falling in love with Livingston Lacroix. A man known to leave a trail of broken hearts.
For all anyone else knew, Livingston and I were still enemies, and words were our weapons.
But I knew the truth. I knew I loved this stubborn, arrogant man.
How could I ever let this happen? I should’ve been more diligent. More careful. I should’ve safeguarded my heart better. At what moment did it happen? Last night, when he didn’t come to my room, I had an ample amount of time to think this over. Perhaps it was our first kiss in the ballroom? Or maybe when we played the write hand at the theater? The picnic with the bachelors?
My gut tells me it’s none of those choices. It goes back further than that. Much further. I think I’d find my answer if I searched hard enough, but a part of me is afraid to find out.
How it happened is unimportant right now. How to carry on with my life is because if I continue this amicable façade, I’ll surely explode.
When we arrive in Savannah, I nearly kiss the platform. I’ve never been happier to see a train station in my entire life. Livingston escorts Momma and me off the train while a man retrieves our luggage. As we weave in and out of the crowd, avoiding passengers on the way to the platform, my body presses against Livingston’s side. Awareness trickles through me.
Don’t look at him. Do not look at him.
By the time we step outside, I nearly push myself away from Livingston, open my handbag, and furiously begin to fan myself. We stand there for several minutes before Livingston gestures to the empty benches in front of the train station entrance. I sit on the very end, hoping Momma will sit beside me, but she doesn’t. Livingston’s large male body takes the space in the middle. His long legs don’t have enough room, so he stretches them out in front of him.
While we wait for the driver Nat sent to pick us up and drive us back Brignac House, I sneak glances at Livingston. In this heat, beads of sweat have quickly gathered around his hairline. After sex, when he was spent and exhausted. He laid on top of me, and I licked a droplet of sweat running across his shoulder. It tasted like salt.
I shift and cross my legs again. When I do, my calf brushes against Livingston’s leg. In a flash, he turns toward me, and I suck in a sharp breath. His eyes are bright but strained. The muscle along his jaw jumps.
“Oh, I think that’s our driver!” Momma says, breaking through our tension-filled bubble.
He stands, and I nearly sag forward with relief. My intentions to travel with Livingston were pure. I needed to be with my best friend during this time. She was always there for me. But I didn’t take my current situation with Livingston into account.
Livingston begins to help the driver with our luggage while Momma and I fan ourselves.
“You were quiet on the train.”
“I was thinkin’.”
“About?”
“Well, Momma, I was thinkin’ on how to be a proper Southern lady.” I close my fan together long enough to tap the ends against Momma’s arm. “I want to make you pro
ud.”
Momma sniffs and continues to fan herself. “I think the heat has gone straight to your head. You need a glass of sweet tea immediately.”
“Sorry to interrupt you ladies, but the car is ready,” Livingston says.
“Wonderful.” Momma stands and places her fan into her handbag. Before she takes Livingston’s proffered arm, she looks at me. “Oh, and dear? I was young once. I see right through the both of you.”
The speed of my fan slows, but my heart speeds up. Momma’s words make me feel uncovered; I thought I was convincing in my performance. Were my feelings so apparent?
Quickly, I gather all my belongings while Livingston lavishes Momma with charm and helps her into the car. Once she’s inside, he turns to me, sweeping his hand toward the door.
I give him a stiff smile and wait for him to step aside and let me in, but he doesn’t. We stand there in the blazing sun. I rock back on my heels, feeling Livingston’s eyes on me. Luckily, my fan’s still in my right hand. To keep myself busy, I nervously fan myself. Livingston’s hazel eyes burn so bright, the gold around the pupils nearly gleams. He clears his throat, drawing my attention from his beautiful eyes to his beautiful lips. “Rainey, you wouldn’t be evadin’ me, would you?” he asks, his tone quiet
“Nonsense. Why would you think that?”
“You would not meet my gaze on the train.”
“Didn’t think there was a quota I had to fill,” I reply.
He doesn’t flinch or bat an eye. His control is remarkable. “And you hardly said two words, which is a rarity for you. You’re either agitated with me about somethin’, or you’re uncomfortable after our … night together.”
“My God. No, no, no. I’m not uncomfortable,” I quickly say. But Livingston couldn’t be closer to the truth. I was uncomfortable by what Livingston brought out of me when we were alone at night. It wasn’t normal to crave someone this much. I’m certain if I confided in another woman, they would stare at me as though I’d just grown horns and a tail.
