Shit. Oh fucking shit.
I think I see stars. If it wasn’t for her governess grabbing her at the last second, I would have almost dropped her. At once, I cradle my groin, forgetting ladies are in the room for a second.
“Like mother, like daughter,” Étienne says dryly.
“Serene,” I croak, “you better be prayin’ that baby is a boy because I don’t know if I can carry on the Lacroix name.”
While stars continue to form behind my eyes, Alex cries. It isn’t the first time she’s heard me say expletives. But it is the first time I’ve shouted them in French and English in front of her. It’s then that one of the strongest men I know scoops up the little life crusher and becomes putty in her hands. “Alexandra, excuse-toi. Vous ne pouvez pas le faire.”
Alex turns and gives me a bashful smile. At least I think she does. It’s hard to tell. My vision is still quite blurry. “Désolé, Oncle Livingston.”
Once I manage the strength to nod in her direction, Étienne puts her down. Alex rushes to Serene and buries her head in her skirts. Étienne looks my way and winces. He isn’t laughing at my predicament, so I feel a small sense of solidarity on this matter.
“Chan-Chan is lost,” Alex whines at Serene.
“I do apologize, Mrs. Lacroix. I tried to stop Alex from coming in here, but she’s so distraught. We can’t seem to find Chandler. She believes he’s lost,” her governess says.
“He’s not lost. He’s right here.” As best as she can, Serene bends down, and dangles her hand till her fingertips graze the carpet. A calico moves out from under Étienne’s desk, causing me to nearly have a heart attack.
The cat slinks up to Serene’s hand and rubs against her. Serene picks the animal up and places it on her lap. I watch in astonishment; neither Étienne nor Serene are cat lovers. I once heard Serene say she’d rather own twenty snakes than have a cat. I sit up straighter in my chair as feeling returns to my lower region. “When did you two get a cat?”
“When I took Alex for a walk and she discovered this fur ball hiding behind the carriage house. She insisted on caring for him. Turns out, Étienne and I created a little human who prefers cats over dogs.”
Serene shrugs. It only seems natural to shrug back.
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“This is Chandler Bing,” Serene says proudly.
“What kind of name is Chandler Bing?”
“It’s a long story, but Chandler Bing is one of my favorite characters from one of my favorite shows ...” Her voice fades as she strokes the cat’s back, and a faraway look appears in her eyes.
It’s a rarity for her to speak of her era. At times, I forget she’s not from here. And then she will speak an unfamiliar phase or say, “one of my favorite shows.”
“I better leave before Alex causes any more damage to Livingston’s most prized possession.” It takes Serene three tries to get up from the chair. Étienne and I watch her. We don’t attempt to help because we know if we do, she’ll, well … then my brother’s head will be joining mine on the fire. When Serene does make it to her feet, Chandler Bing’s nails are digging into her shoulder, and Alex is running circles around her.
The governess wrangles Alex, ushering her out of the office. Serene walks behind them. “Good-bye, Livingston,” she calls and looks over her shoulder. “Don’t think we won’t be talking about your little problem later.”
There was no question in my mind that Serene would make good on her word. Once they’re gone, I whistle. “I would ask how Serene is farin’, but that seems pretty evident.”
Étienne gives a grunt in reply.
“I have spare bedrooms if you would like a place to stay,” I tease.
“I would laugh, but it could be several weeks until the baby arrives.” Étienne drags both hands down his face. “My God, I’m convinced when she gets out of bed in the mornin’ and places her feet on the floor, the devil cowers in fear.”
I can’t help but laugh at his description. “Well, my door is always open. But before you come over, read through this again.” I emphasize the last of my words by slapping my palm against the surface of the desk.
He holds his hands before him, palms up. “I’m not a lawyer, Livingston.”
“You’re smart.”
“In this regard, you’re givin’ me far too much credit. Besides, from what I read, there’s nothin’ that Pleas has severely imposed on you. It’s not as though you’re the one with the dowry.”
“You’re correct,” I concede. “I don’t have a dowry. I have somethin’ much worse. I have Rainey. This dowry means we have to stay in contact for the next sixty days. Sixty days.”
“I can count,” Étienne says drolly. “And it does not specify the two of you have to speak every single day.”
“I presume we have to stay in contact.”
Étienne takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I truly believe you’re overthinkin’ this. I’ve known Rainey the same length of time you have. I know how headstrong she can be. You might not even have to worry about this will.”
Sighing, I drag my hands through my hair and pull until the ends stand up. “Did you not hear your wife? The crazed woman shot me in the ass.”
My brother smirks. “Enlighten me on why she did that again?”
I make a noise of frustration. “The details are inconsequential to this matter.”
“Oh, but I think they are.”
The memory of Rainey walking in on me with Lydia/Lillian makes me shiver. Only Rainey can ruin sex and nearly incapacitate me at the same time.
“If my somber brother could return for the moment, I would deeply appreciate that.”
Étienne holds his hands up. “My apologies.” Clearing his throat, he leans back and stares thoughtfully at the desk.
We’re granted the silence I’d hoped for since I walked through the front door. But it only highlights the lack of progress neither one of us are making in this dowry situation. After a few minutes of staring out the window, I look toward Étienne and find him staring at me with raised brows.
He lifts both shoulders, a gesture that says, I still don’t have a resolution for you.
Groaning, I drag both hands down my face. This was quickly moving from bad to terrible.
“Everythin’ will be fine.”
Dropping my hands, I look at him. “Are you certain?”
Étienne leans back in his chair and links his fingers behind his head. “Absolutely. Trust me, she won’t do it. But a word of advice? It might be best if you wore some extra paddin’ around Rainey.” He gestures to my lower half. “Best not to take any chances.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rainey
“You have to do this. There’s no other option,” I tell my reflection.
It’s been two days since Momma told me of our financial peril, and my mind has thought of nothing else. When I look around our home and what Momma has filled it with—our staff, belongings, the food that’s placed in front of me during each meal—I tally the total cost, and it doesn’t seem improbable that we’ve found ourselves in this predicament.