King of the South

by Read, Calia

  “If Rainey wants you to know her personal business, she’ll let you know,” Livingston smoothly answers.

  Nat walks away from the window and sits down. “From the telegram, it sounds bleak.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Because I can read between your words.”

  Livingston’s silent then snorts. “It’s a telegram, and it’s from Étienne. Of course it sounds bleak. He can make a rainbow sound bleak.”

  At his reply, my lips curve into a smile.

  “He would only send you a telegram if it was urgent.”

  “Then I suppose you have your answer then, now don’t you?” There’s an edge to Livingston’s voice. He’s reaching his threshold with this conversation and isn’t about to go much further.

  “Marry her,” Nat says.

  I can’t help but lean in. Very gently, I place my fingertips on the door and wait with bated breath for Livingston’s answer. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow.

  “Pardon?”

  “Marry her,” Nat repeats. “Offer your hand and put an end to the financial burden her family has. God knows our family has more money than we know what to do with.”

  All I can see is the rigid way Livingston holds himself. “I don’t believe marryin’ her is the correct way to go about things.”

  “Why not? You love her, don’t you?”

  There’s a long pause from Livingston.

  Answer her. Please answer her.

  “No. I would never love someone like Rainey.”

  I think it would have hurt less if he drove a sword straight through my heart.

  My eyes close and with a shaky breath, I push away from the door. I can’t listen to another word. My skin feels sticky, and my heart is racing in my chest. I can’t decide whether I’m going to spontaneously burst into tears or become sick. I feel dreadful.

  I can hear Momma’s voice in my head, lightly chiding me, “This is why a lady never eavesdrops.”

  My hands curl into fists as I feel tears building behind my eyes. My nails dig into my flesh as I fight to control my emotions and take deep breaths. This is Livingston “King of the South” Lacroix, why did I ever expect something different?

  You have your answers now, I tell myself, trying to find a break in the clouds in this stormy situation. You had a pleasant time with Livingston. It’s time to focus on saving your family’s home.

  “Ma’am?” a servant says from behind me, breaking through my thoughts. Turning around, I find a confused servant looking at the envelope in their hands and back at me. “Yes?”

  “Are you Miss Rainey Pleasonton?”

  At that, I frown and stand straighter. “I am.”

  The man holds the envelope out for me to take. “This is for you.”

  Sure enough, I see my name written in elegant script. Who is this from? I smile at the servant. “Thank you.”

  He dips his head and walks away. I don’t waste a moment and tear open the envelope with one of my nails. I don’t have the faintest idea who it’s from, but I gladly welcome the distraction.

  Dear Miss Pleasonton,

  Under the circumstances of which we met it feels boorish to say I enjoyed meeting you, but I enjoyed meeting you. My sisters and I are having a gathering tonight at Rosemound Manor, and I thought of you. I hope it’s not presumptuous of me to extend an invitation to you so soon after the memorial.

  We would love to see you there.

  Sincerely,

  Loras Breymas

  Slowly, I lift my head. Instinctively, my gaze drifts toward the closed doors where Nathalie and Livingston remain.

  They couldn’t still be talking about Livingston’s lack of love for me, could they? I had no desire to stand with my ear pressed against the door one more time and be rejected again. Once is enough.

  To think, I was going to tell Livingston the truth about how I felt. To think, I was going to stop seeing the bachelors for someone who could never love someone like me.

  Like me.

  Tears of humiliation build behind my eyes, and I blink furiously.

  I will not cry. I will not cry.

  Who was I? Was I that repulsive? Was Livingston that bored with his life that he was merely entertaining himself, waiting until a lady of his stature and refinement made her way into his life, with someone like me?

  Why do you think he calls you, le savauge? Anger reminds me. He will never, ever love you. Don’t love him back.

  I’d rather feel anger than pain and sadness. I’ve become so intimately familiar with anger’s warm embrace that I nearly sigh with content when I feel its dark grasp.

  With anger, I know what to do, and it doesn’t involve love in the slightest. Folding Loras’ invite in half, I jut my chin out and walk upstairs. I make a point of looking forward and not at the doors behind me.

  Yesterday, there was a man who looked at me with interest. He didn’t seem bored with me.

  Tonight, I will pay him a visit.

  And that man is not Livingston.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Livingston

  “Why not? You love her, don’t you?”

  My heart races from my sister’s simple question because everything between Rainey and me has become an intricate mess. There are no words to explain what Rainey is to me and our relationship. And I don’t want to explain it. I feel defensive of what we have. Even with someone as trustworthy as Nathalie, I trust no one to understand that between good and bad, black and white, and love and hate is Rainey and me.

  No one can understand, but the two of us.

  “No,” I finally reply, because it’s the simplest reply. For good measure I add, “I would never love someone like Rainey.”

  I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I went too far. I wanted to appease Nat with my answer, but all I’ve done is given my sister an opening for more questions. She looks at me with something close to disappointment. I don’t attempt to explain my words. I’ll only bury myself further.

  Sighing heavily, Nat looks me over with blank eyes. “Vous pouvez vous mentir, mais vous ne pouvez pas me mentir.”

  “C’est la vérité.”

  Nat looks unconvinced. “Les gens peuvent mentir avec des mots, mais pas avec leurs yeux.”

  The way her eyes bore deep into mine makes me shudder. Nat knows the truth, and she’s waiting for me to confess. She can stand here all day because it’s not going to happen. I stand my ground, looking her right in the eye. Nat doesn’t know what she speaks of. If I’m lying it’s to save Rainey.

  At last, she gives in. Nat takes a step back and shakes her head. “Liv, I may be your little sister, but I’ve made my own mistakes in life. I believe I can offer advice.”

  Never in my life did I think I’d live to see the day where Nathalie would be giving me guidance on life. That’s when you know your life has shattered into millions of bits. “Oh, and what’s that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.

  “Only a fool allows fear and pride to get in the way of love.” She regards me with the gaze of someone who knows my future because she’s lived it.

  A chill drifts down my spine. “Nat—”

  “Did you ever think your life would turn out the way it has?” she asks, cutting me off abruptly.

  Her question gives me pause for a moment. “Never.”

  Nat nods. “I only envisioned love and family for me. Never this.” She stares out the window. Her eyes remain blank. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “You do exactly what you did after our parents passed.”

  “Liv, there’s no closet beneath the staircase to hide in,” she says with a straight face.

  I smile and gently elbow her arm. “The closet remains at Belgrave.”

  Nat’s shaking her head before I can finish my sentence. “I need to stay here for now.”

  That’s not the answer I want to hear. I think both Rainey and I envisioned Nat coming back to Charleston with us. Brignac House is not wh
ere she belongs. This place has stolen part of her spirit.

  “What is here?”

  “Nothin’. But things must be put to rights.”

  At that, I nod. I understand the need to finish what you’ve started. Even now, I have the urge to find Rainey and tell her what Étienne’s said in the telegram

  “Whenever you decide to come home, we will be waitin’ with open arms.”

  Nat tilts her head, and for a moment, she stares at me with hopefulness that I don’t anticipate. “Everyone?”

  I find myself nodding before she can finish her question. “Of course.”

  Because I don’t know how to make this better. Because there’s no time to build a closet beneath the staircase for her to hide in, I offer my arms to her.

  For the first time since I’ve arrived, Nat’s eyes well up with tears. She rests her cheek against my chest. My arms securely wrap around her. She doesn’t sob, but her small body gently shakes.

  I don’t know how long we stand there. But I would’ve stood there for as long as she needed me to. Nathalie was my little sister and one of my best friends.

  Soon, her cries turn to sniffles. She takes a step back, searching for something to wipe her eyes. I grab a handkerchief from my pocket and hand it to her.

  “Thank you,” she says as red slowly stains her cheeks.

  “It’s quite all right.”

  She blows her nose and gives me a weak smile, but I can already see the walls she’s built around herself coming back up. “Excuse me. I need to gather myself.”

  I step to the side to let her pass. “Of course.”

  She brushes past me, tightly clutching my handkerchief. Once she’s at the door, she stops and looks at me. “Liv?”

  I lift a brow. “Yes, Nat?”

  “Love her or let her free.”

  Nathalie walks out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. As I walk back to the table to pick up Étienne’s telegram, my sister’s words linger around me while Rainey’s scent clings to my skin.

  Heavily, I fall back onto the settee behind me and drop my head into my hands.

  I don’t know how to love a person with Rainey’s strength and will. But I can’t let her free.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Livingston

  I’ve had my fair share of uncomfortable dinners. But I firmly believe those dinners have been preparing me for the time spent at Brignac House because no dinner can compare to the agonizing silence surrounding this table.

  I want to believe it’s because of Oliver’s death but my sister and the servants appear undaunted by the quiet. In fact, I’ve never seen a staff serve food around a dinner table so quickly and silently.

  My eyes keep lifting, expecting to see Rainey sitting across from me. She would be just as amused by this spectacle. But she’s nowhere to be found. She was noticeably absent for lunch and I haven’t seen her all day.

  After enduring two courses with no one saying a word, I decide to speak. “Where is Rainey?”

  Nat’s gaze veers toward Matilda, almost as though she’s judging her reaction. Matilda stares at her plate with intense focus. Is she in a trance? Then, abruptly, she lifts her gaze and looks around the dinner table as if a conversation has been taking place the minute we all sat down, and she’s ready to participate.

  My God, this woman is strange. I’m counting down the seconds until our train leaves for Charleston.

  Leonore wipes the corners of her mouth before she speaks. “I believe she’s in her room. She isn’t feelin’ well.” Very swiftly, Leonore looks away, and takes a drink. A red stain creeps onto her cheeks.

  I arch a brow. Leonore is lying for her daughter. I shift in my seat, and look at my plate, thinking on how to best answer her. “How unfortunate. Please give her my regards.”

  She dips her head and gives me a strained smile. “I certainly will. I think it’s the travelin’. It can be awfully taxin’ on the body.”

  I’m willing to bet my entire trust fund that if I went upstairs and walked into Rainey’s room, I wouldn’t find her ill and lying in her bed.

  “That’s interestin’,” Nat cuts in.

  All eyes turn to her. My sister points toward the doorway. “Before dinner, I saw her in the hallway upstairs and briefly spoke to her. She said Loras sent her an invite to have dinner at their house.” Nat stops speaking and thinks over her words. “Or perhaps it was Rea?”

  “Why in God’s name would you allow your good friend to go there?” Matilda asks.

  My emotionless sister looks her mother-in-law in the eye. “Because she’s a grown woman, and your petty feud with the Breymas family has nothin’ to do with her.”

  Death extracts many emotions out of us. For my sister, it brings nothing out. I do believe the part of her that once cared what people thought of her is pushed to the back of her mind or died with Oliver. Typically, I’d celebrate my sister’s bold words, but all that echoes in my mind is that Rainey is at the Breymas home … near Loras.

  Sitting up straight in my chair, I look at my sister. “When?”

  “Before dinner. I presumed she accepted when I saw her getting into the car.”

  “And you let her leave?”

  “Was I supposed to stop her? I didn’t have orders. Mrs. Pleasonton, should I have stopped her?”

  Leonore lowers her spoon back to the soup bowl. “Stopped who, dear?”

  “Rainey from goin’ to the Breymas home,” Nat patiently explains.

  “Rainey’s sick,” Leonore says without batting an eye. “I spoke with her in her room, and she had a terrible fever. Are you sure you saw Rainey?”

  It’s clear to see Leonore is willing to continue with the ‘sick charade’ the entire night and clear onto tomorrow if she has to. I have to stop myself from groaning in frustration.

  Nat lifts her gaze to the ceiling as though she’s deep in thought. “I swear it was Rainey. The woman was wearin’ a deep blue dress. Very darin’. She will turn heads. If she doesn’t find a man willing to marry her by the end of tonight, I’ll be shocked.” My sister gives me a meaningful expression that I can read all too well. She can and will find someone else you fool.

  My hands curl into fists, and my body vibrates with anger at the picture my sister paints. I don’t know if I’ve been this angry before. I know I should gather myself and take a deep breath, but I can seem to think of only one thing, and that’s Rainey.

  The day I kissed her, I was doomed. I understand that now. My life is a disaster, though. I can barely take care of myself let alone somebody else. Especially someone like Rainey. I am not meant for her.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary, sweet boy. She needs her rest.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I smile at Leonore. “No, no. I insist. Excuse me, ladies. I will be right back.”

  I leave the dining room with the image of worry on Leonore’s face. Striding across the foyer, I take the stairs two at a time. I know she isn’t in her room. I just need to see for myself.

  I rap my knuckles against the door and wait. After a few seconds I repeat the process.

  “Rainey,” I say with a dangerous edge to my tone. “You missed dinner.”

  I let the seconds pass before I turn the knob. The door is unlocked. Of course, it is. This is Rainey. She won’t sneak out of the room like anybody else and ban entrance to her room. Rather, she’ll welcome everyone in to announce her absence. She would show her escape like a trophy.

  Making a small circle, I take in the spotless room. “Raina, Raina, Raina...je te trouverai.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Rainey

  I arrived at Rosemound Manor a quarter after dinner started on purpose. I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing anyone. Especially Livingston. I stayed in my room for the whole day, deviating between anger and misery. When I didn’t come down for lunch, Momma came to see me. She took one look at me, and her eyes narrowed, then she rushed toward my bed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  I to
ld her about my feelings for Livingston, and the conversation I overheard between Nat and Livingston. I had to relieve the pressure in my chest. I thought if I did, it would take away the pain, and it did, to an extent. Momma quietly listened, nodding every so often. Her eyes filled with sympathy as though she understood my plight.

  When I was finished, she reached out and covered my hand with hers, and said, “Oh, Rainey.”

  I told her of the invitation I received from Loras. She asked if I was considering attending, and I told her yes.

  “I can’t see him right now, Momma,” I said, my voice breaking. “I can’t.”

  She nodded, and much to my surprise, she told me she would tell everyone I was ill and would be in my room for the night.

  With her, I found myself making an effortless exit out of Brignac House and ended up here.

  Thanking the driver, I close the car door behind me and look toward Rosemound Manor. At once, it becomes apparent why Matilda has a distaste for the Breymas family. Their home is built on a hill, looking directly upon Brignac House.

  Like most plantations in the South, Rosemound suffered throughout the years. The two-story, wood-frame home was painted yellow but chipping in some areas. The gable roof needs repair, but two dormer windows flanked a pediment with a fanlight in the middle. However, it wouldn’t matter to Matilda that Rosemound Manor wasn’t as grand as Brignac. All that mattered is the Breymas family could look down upon the Claibornes.

  I could see movement coming from the first floor. For the first time, I question the hastiness of my decision. I only know Loras and Rea, and that’s being generous. Everyone else would be a stranger. But the alternative would be sitting across from Livingston in the Claiborne’s dining room, and concealing my heartache, which seems far worse.

  Thunder rumbles in the distance. I jump at the sound before I walk toward the steps leading to the porch. The front door opened before I had a chance to knock. There was no butler to greet me, but instead, Rea Breymas.