King of the South

by Read, Calia

  Believe me, my expression says. Momma wrings her hands together and watches me with doubt. I sigh and walk out of the sitting room. For the first time in my life, I’m mournful to leave the embroidery behind. As I walk down the hall, my mind runs with endless questions. What could Livingston possibly want? Is he here to discuss last night? Or perhaps he has found extra funds in our family’s account that our accountants missed. My heart soars at the possibility. Every little cent counts.

  Livingston is in the library, slowly sauntering around the room with his hands behind his back. Every Lacroix has a commanding presence. Each in their own unique ways. They were born in high stations; they have high expectations. Étienne is always so blasé about what he sees. Nat is gracious, and always smiling. Because of that, people are drawn to her, anxious to absorb a bit of her happiness. And Livingston … his presence is undisturbed. There’s not a lot that affects him. Why would it? When you want for nothing, you wish for nothing.

  Lately, though, he appears restless. His shoulders are always tense and alert. And while he maintains the carefree Livingston, there are moments a mask covers his eyes, and I don’t recognize the face in front of me.

  My heart aches for him. For no other reason than him fighting some unspoken battle. That is all.

  Right?

  Clearing my throat, I enter the room. Slowly, Livingston looks over his shoulder at me. Once again, the guarded expression cloaks his eyes. What was he thinking about before I interrupted him?

  I take a deep breath and glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Two in the afternoon. Shouldn’t you be havin’ your breakfast in bed?”

  Livingston closes his eyes and dramatically clutches at his chest. “Once again you wound me with your words.”

  “What part offended you?” I ask as I approach him.

  “The breakfast part. Everyone knows I only drink coffee. It must be as black as my soul.”

  “Ah.” I dip my head, but it’s only to hide my smile. When I look him in the eye, I’m back to being straight faced. “My apologies then.”

  Livingston faces me, rocks back on his heels, and arches a single brow. I know he’s waiting for my manners to kick in and to offer him to sit down, but I do not want to do that. It’s best if we aren’t near one another because I’m still trying to grapple with what I felt last night. Even now there’s an unexpressed energy between us that neither one of us refuses to speak of. I hide the slight tremor in my arms by crossing them, and tell myself the tingles I feel underneath my fingertips is from the needle constantly pricking me.

  “What can I do for you?” I ask.

  He gestures to the ledger on the desk in the corner. “I’m here to return the first ledger. I went through everythin’ and I’m ready to look through anythin’ else you may have.”

  “Oh.”

  There truly is a reason for his unexpected visit. When I gave Livingston the first ledger, I trusted him to give his thoughts to me when he was finished. I didn’t have the best patience, and a lot of times, I would force myself not to ask how the process was. But the very thought he could have potentially spotted an error or extra funds causes my heart to wildly beat.

  “Did you find anythin’?” I blurt, my words blending together.

  Livingston’s eyes soften, a sign that what’s to come out of his mouth is never good. “No. I haven’t. But I’ve just started. That can all change.”

  Nodding, I look away even though I’ve started to lose faith that anything will change. I can only keep meeting with each bachelor, and once Livingston looks through all the finances and I have my second opinion. Then I will know I exhausted every option.

  “I can start examinin’ what ledgers you may have left,” Livingston suggests.

  His words pull me out of my thoughts. “Oh, yes. Right, right.” I spring into action, and walk to the desk. I open the middle drawer and grab the key to open the drawer to the left where the rest of the ledgers would be. I place them one by one, and in total there are three. How long would it take for Livingston to inspect these ledgers? Idly, my gaze looks over the desk surface. Taking note of the lack of belongings and clutter that once lined the sides when I was a child. Before Daddy died, he would often work in the library. He said the view of the garden was relaxing. For Miles, it was his favorite place to work, too. I can’t fault either of them. I love it too. Lifting my head, I look out the window the desk faces. I adored playing in the garden even more.

  A faint smile causes the corners of my mouth to lift as I think back to a memory when I was seven. I coaxed Nat into being my assistant while I treasure hunted in my backyard. I used a stick as my sword, and also as a crutch after I was gravely wounded battling evil pirates, and wild animals.

  Apparently, I appreciated theatrics as a child.

  It would take some time but Nat would gradually become an active participator. Our shrieks and laughter would become loud enough to earn the attention of our brothers.

  Miles would help make our game better by recommending which live Oaks to climb and which branches were sturdy enough. Étienne would have little to no involvement, and sat off to the side, reading a book. Their younger brother Julian was filled with energy and because the boys were showing an interest in our game, it became good enough for him. He would join in, climbing the trees at impressive speeds even I had to admire his skill. He kept a lookout for any sneaky raiders.

  And Livingston would imbed his opinion at what seemed to be the worst times. I needed to sharpen the end of my stick if I was going to use it as a sword. And how did I wound my arm in battle but limp around the garden with my left foot instead? If Julian was keeping watch in the tree, then why was Nat attempting to climb the tree and griping about Julian taking her spot.

  Livingston was the killer of all joy, and so I announced he was one of the raiders who snuck past Julian’s watchful eye. Julian let out a war cry and Nat forgot about getting her way. The two of them turned on Livingston. Like faithful soldiers they charged him while I looked on for several seconds and then ran into the attack.

  I close my eyes and exhale a shaky breath. I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from crying. Far too many memories have been created here for it to all slip away.

  “Rainey?” Livingston says behind me.

  I open my eyes, blinking rapidly. The garden is pristine. Just as it should be. I know most people would prefer it in this condition, but I loved it best with errant flowers from kids’ footfalls. I turn, with a smile fixed on my face. “Here we are. I believe these are the rest of the ledgers.”

  I hold them out for Livingston to take. He makes a small grunt when he takes the brunt of all the weight. “Do you know Pleas kept a very detailed account of the financial records?”

  Sadly, I smile. “I’m sure he did.”

  Livingston looks away momentarily and then back at me. More uncomfortable silence. As quickly as possible, I think of anything to fill the void. “When he was at college, he tried his best to keep order of everythin’ but it was too consumin’ so Momma had our accountant take over. It was the same for when he went to war.”

  “Makes sense considerin’ he is the accountant.”

  I smirk. “Miles was a very patient, yet a controllin’ man. He wanted to do everythin’ his way. In any case, let me find the ledgers that were balanced by the accountant.” I grab the first ledger from the top of the stack, but I instantly recognize Miles’s handwriting.

  I lean closer to Livingston until our shoulders are pressed together and open the ledger at the top of the stack. As I flip through the pages trying to find the any evidence of our family accountant, Livingston’s dips his head and … did he smell my hair? I freeze, mid-turn of the page, blindly staring at the numbers below. He smelled my hair. I know he did. I heard the slight inhale. The brush of his nose. Why did he do that? Better yet, why is my heart beating like a drum?

  Livingston’s body becomes rigid beside me, as though he realizes he was caught. Slowly, he pulls away f
rom the crown of my head. I continue to look at the ledger as if nothing occurred but now it’s all I can think of. The numbers on the pages look like a different language.

  “I spoke with Étienne today,” he blurts.

  I can’t help but arch a brow. Livingston speaks with his brother every day. “Oh?”

  His jaw clenches and unclenches, as if he’s struggling to say his words. I become alert. “We both think it’s imperative that while you pursue Serene’s absurd bachelor idea we have our lawyer look at Miles’s will. See if there’s a chance there are loopholes.”

  I don’t mind the bachelors. I’m not against the attention. It’s quite nice having men wanting to fawn all over me, while Livingston turns into a big ball of fury. He believes I do not notice.

  I do.

  I notice everything about him, even when I try my hardest not to. I believe he attempts to do the same with me. Even now, he’s going out of his way to find a better opportunity for me to receive my dowry without marrying. But something about his statement doesn’t seem right to me. Étienne’s stoic, and at times blunt. He wouldn’t have Livingston speak for the two of them.

  “Question, were Étienne’s exact words, absurd bachelor idea?”

  At that, Livingston averts his gaze and scratches the back of his neck. Several seconds go by before he answers. “No. But it was heavily implied.”

  “Of course,” I say, deciding to go along with this charade of his. “And why does he not care for the bachelors?”

  Livingston places the heavy ledgers on the chair beside him, crosses his arms, and narrows his eyes, while I stare on with an innocent expression. “Because he believes they might pursue you for monetary ambition.”

  “And does that truly matter? I myself have monetary ambition. Perhaps our ambitions can be the one thing we bond over.”

  Livingston leans in, light eyes ablaze. “Greed is not somethin’ you want to bond over. Trust me on this.”

  I mimic his actions. “It’s not greed, but desperation. And I’ll trust you the minute you admit that he is not Étienne, but you.”

  Livingston takes a step back and throws his hands in the air. “All right. Fine. I believe this is absurd, and I haven’t concealed that. Figured I’d say my brother was in agreement with me so you would change your mind. It’s apparent I was wrong. You’ll continue to see these men no matter who asks you not to.”

  “You thought Étienne’s opinion would change my mind?”

  “Perhaps. You seem to do the opposite of everythin’ I say.”

  “I’ve always done that.”

  There’s got to be a better way of savin’ your family from financial ruin than virtually sellin’ yourself.”

  My cheeks turn red from anger. “I am not sellin’ myself.”

  Livingston looks me straight in the eye. “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. This is not the way to go about everythin’.”

  “I wish there was a different way.”

  “Well, there could be. When I visited Étienne, I asked him to look at your family’s finances.” My shoulders become tense. Livingston quickly speaks. “This means the process can move faster. And I know I told you, you had my discretion and I meant it, but I promise you, Étienne has a remarkable eye with findin’ error. It won’t take him long to discover the outcome of your finances.” He pauses, watching me carefully. “Are you comfortable with that?”

  Right now, I need all the help I can get. Livingston doesn’t need to solicit his brother’s strengths. I know his twin’s business acumen is unrivaled. This is for the best. I give Livingston a genuine smile. “Of course. I trust Étienne.”

  Livingston taps the ledger on top and nods. “Then I’ll give one of these books for Étienne to look through as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Livingston dips his head and looks away. Within seconds the silence fills the room is strained. Whenever Livingston and I have extended conversations that are cordial we don’t know what to do with ourselves. It goes out of our typical area of comfort.

  “Excellent. I will be on my way then.” At the door, he looks over his shoulder at me, as though he’s forgotten something. “Since Étienne is willin’ to help, I’m more than happy to tell Serene that this bachelor charade is over.”

  Oh, that sneaky little bastard. “Absolutely not!”

  He stares at the ceiling and shakes his head. “You still want to proceed with this bachelor charade?”

  “I have no choice, Livingston.”

  He holds the ledgers between us, slightly blocking his face from view. “I’m givin’ you a choice now.”

  “Can you or Étienne find a way out of this financial ruin tomorrow? Can you guarantee that I will not have to marry a man or use this dowry to keep the home I grew up in from bein’ taken from my momma?”

  The sound of his silence is the only answer I need. I sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get ready. A bachelor will be here shortly to take me on a walk through the park.”

  “I can loan you the money.”

  Livingston’s words cause me to become frozen. Arching a brow, I remain silent as I process his words and attempt to think of the best reply.

  “I think we both know there’s no possible way for me or Momma to pay you back,” I say honestly.

  “There’s no timeline to this loan,” Livingston immediately replies. His eyes are solemn. He means every word.

  “Don’t you think there’s nothin’ favorable to come out of loanin’ friends money, no matter the amount?” I ask, my tone soft.

  “Yes, but I’ll make an exception this time.” Livingston gives me a crooked grin that most women can never say no to. For me, though, I’ve seen it so many times I feel only a small flutter in my stomach. I know better.

  Sighing, I reach out and pat him on the arm. I shouldn’t have done that because almost immediately, I feel a jolt in my fingertips and the heat that spreads across my palm. Almost a punishment for thinking I’m immune from his charm.

  I snatch my hand, hiding it behind my back and continue speaking as though nothing is the matter. “I appreciate the offer, but I was raised under the belief that if money is loaned out, it should be paid.”

  “I respect that, but let me do this … for your brother.”

  For your brother.

  His words aren’t meant to cut to the quick. I know Livingston is being kind. But the three words don’t sit well with me because they’re said to me, but they’re for someone else. He’s doing this for Miles. I know the fact he doesn’t want to be the executor of my dowry plays a tremendous role. Am I that much of a burden to him?

  Livingston dips his head. “I will take your silence as a no.”

  Lacing my fingers together, I stare at the ledgers held between his hands. “It’s better this way. And I’m confident that between you and Étienne reviewin’ the accounts, Momma and I won’t need to worry about the creditors knockin’ on our door. It might not happen tomorrow as we wish, but we’ll have the answers soon. Maybe you will find money hidden somewhere, and I won’t have to accept this dowry,” I say with a weak smile.

  Livingston’s brows become furrowed as he looks at me. His mouth opens and closes several times. “Rainey—”

  I hold up a hand because I don’t want him to say something else out of obligation or pity. “And if you don’t find a thing, that’s fine, too. I have my dowry.” I never once thought I’d be saying those words aloud. Yet here we are.

  “And the bachelors,” Livingston mutters.

  “And the bachelors,” I agree faintly.

  Livingston becomes silent, carefully watching me. “You mentioned you have a bachelor takin’ you for a stroll around a park this afternoon. Which one is it?”

  “What’s it matter to you?”

  Livingston scoffs “It doesn’t matter. I’m merely bein’ polite. Which bachelor is it?” he repeats.

  “Oh …” I try to think of a male name, any
name, but nothing comes to mind. Livingston tilts his head to the side as he waits for my reply. “I’m uncertain.”

  “Wouldn’t it be best if you know who you’re seein’?”

  “It would,” I concede. “But I’m usin’ the Livingston Lacroix method with the bachelors. Recognize them by faces. Never by their names.”

  At that, he arches a brow. “Is it Beau?”

  “I said I’m uncertain,” I reply.

  Livingston can poke and prod all he wants, but I’m not conceding to anything. The truth is, there is no need for me to freshen up because no bachelor is escorting me around the park. I said that to get Livingston to leave, and for him not to know when the next actual event with my bachelors will be. I don’t want another theater fiasco on my hands.

  “Uncertain?” he questions with a quirk of his brow.

  I merely nod.

  Livingston leaves, maintaining his half-smirk and a look in his eyes that said, I know you’re lying.

  “Have fun with Uncertain,” he calls out behind him.

  I shake my head, trying to be annoyed but I can’t stop myself from smiling.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Livingston

  “I must say this roast ducklin’ is superb.”

  “Thank you. I worked very hard on this dinner,” a female voice says. Has to be Serene.

  I press my face closer to the key lock until my nose is nearly smashed against the door to get a better look inside the room. All I can see is one side. Fortunately for me, it’s in the direction where Rainey and Conrad are sitting.

  “Did you?” Conrad says.

  “No, the cook made it,” Serene replies.

  Everyone in the dining room laughs. I snort, and stop myself from rolling my eyes when someone or something tugs at my jacket. I shrug it off, and continue staring into the dining room. Is it my imagination, or is Conrad moving closer to Rainey? He’s nearly sitting on her lap. My left hand curls into a fist. I stop myself from bursting into the room and demanding him to back away. It’s supposed to be a dinner, and he’s far from being respectful what with the heated glances he’s giving her. I know those glances. I’ve given those glances. He’s thinking of bedding her.