Lifting my hand, I point a finger downward at my head. “Me. I’m your reason. I’m your flesh and blood, and this flesh and blood does not want said guest to come.”
Momma leans in, her eyes remaining determined. “Rainey, you have nothin’ to be worried about. I’ll be at the dinner and will tell you what to say beforehand.”
“I’m not a marionette. There is no reason to pull my strings and feed me lines.”
“When it comes to Livingston, I’m afraid I may have to. He’s in charge of your dowry, and it’s important that you be on your best behavior.”
I know she’s right, but I thought I had more time to think over my course of action. I never thought I had mere hours before I had to see the man who I used my bow and arrow on days ago. But, then again, I never thought I would have to use it on him for a second time.
“Please cancel this dinner. Please,” I beg, making one last attempt to change her mind.
Momma averts her gaze and moves her food around her plate. “Raina, I’m afraid that cannot be done. Livingston will be here tonight. Consider this matter put to bed.” Briefly, she lifts her gaze back to mine. “Oh, and, sugar? Try to wear a blue dress. It’s such a flatterin’ color on you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rainey
I do not heed Momma’s advice and change into the blue dress. I wear my favorite black dress because this is a day of mourning.
I’ve lost many people I loved dearly, and tonight, I will be parting with one emotion that has never left me or let me down: my pride.
Oh pride, we’ve had quite the relationship. It’s remained strong in me without becoming hubristic. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m still not for certain what I’ll say to Livingston, or how I’ll gently broach the subject. If I’m kind to him, he will undoubtedly notice something is amiss.
Not only am I mourning my pride, but also my sheer ignorance to my family’s plight.
In 1917, while the war raged on in Europe, I saw an article in Harper’s Bazaar about the House of Chanel. It was on “the list of every buyer.” Nat had garments from House of Chanel she coveted. But then the war broke out, and it was virtually impossible to order a dress from any fashion house in Europe. I didn’t receive this beautiful creation until two weeks ago.
From afar, my ankle-length dress appears simple. The material skims over my curves. It’s sleeveless with a square neckline. Upon closer inspection, you can see the heavily beaded design with a layer of black silk faille draped to my waistline. It goes up and over my shoulders and down my back. Around my waist, in the same shade, is a belt loosely tied to the side. Heavy tassels hang from the belt, grazing the hem of the dress.
If I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have been so liberal with what I purchased.
Adjusting my hair clip in my chignon, I slowly lower my hands and stare at my reflection. I know I’m not an ogre. I’m somewhat attractive, but can I pull off an engagement in sixty days? I don’t know. It might take an act of God.
Minutes before six o’clock, I leave my room. I’m getting ready to walk down the stairs when the front door opens and in walks the devil himself, Livingston Lacroix.
While the butler tells him to wait in the sitting parlor before dinner, I move down the steps. Straight away, Livingston’s eyes meet mine. His bright green eyes start at my ankles and travel up my body before settling on my face. I’d rather endure years of torture than admit that being the focus of Livingston’s attention can be intoxicating.
Two steps away from the landing, I stop and grip the railing. Livingston tips his hat in my direction before he hands it over to the butler. Compared to the last time we saw one another, he looks very put together. That’s one thing that’s never been a problem for him. He fills out his tailored, gray worsted suit well.
“Good evenin’, Rainey.”
“Livingston,” I say, tilting my head in his direction.
Livingston saunters closer with his loose-hip gait. Livingston and his brother have a similar walk, but for the two tall men, their stride is for very different reasons. Étienne quickly assess his surroundings to find what he’s come for. Livingston casually surveys life around him in a manner that is only befitting for a king. The world halts until he finds whatever is pleasing to him at the moment.
Livingston’s life has always centered around pleasure. At that moment, he gives me his undivided attention and his well-practiced half-smirk. It appears I’m his amusement for the night. “I must say, receivin’ an invitation to have dinner at the Pleasonton house was a shock.”
“Why were you shocked? You’re like family.”
“I didn’t feel the warm embrace of family when you barged into my room days ago.”
I bite down on my tongue and force my lips to curl into a polite smile. “That was an unfortunate misunderstandin’.”
Livingston tucks his hands into his pockets. From my vantage point, I’m taller and able to turn my nose down on Livingston. I could become quite comfortable in this spot.
“And the scar on my leg? Was that a misunderstandin’ too?”
Crossing my arms, I lean against the wall. “I was a child and didn’t know how to properly hold a bow or nock an arrow. A mere slip of my hand. I do apologize.”
“My God, you have an answer for everythin’ tonight, don’t you?” His eyes rove over my body. “Rare form, le savauge. Rare form.”
I feel anger, of course I do, but it’s breaking apart and giving way to something else that I can’t properly describe. The feeling makes my skin tingle, almost as though thousands of needles are underneath my skin, and it travels directly to my fingertips, causing me to flex them.
Standing straight, I walk down the rest of the steps. My reign of power is over. Livingston and I are back on equal footing. I step closer until our faces are inches apart, just to prove to myself that I’m nothing like the trail of women fawning over Livingston.
His eyes look exceptionally light tonight. It’s because of the chandelier. It basks him in a glow that makes his skin tone golden.
Men shouldn’t be beautiful, but Livingston is. Michelangelo would want to sculpt him. I’ll never admit that. The last thing Livingston needs is more admiration for his already massive ego.
Averting my gaze from his symmetrical face, I sigh. Rainey, you need to remember what tonight is about.
Looking both ways, I make sure nobody is watching. I always try to avoid using the dreaded H word at all costs. The word that can diminish your confidence with the first letter. We all know the word.
Help.
“Can I speak with you for a moment?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet.
Livingston’s brows furrow. “I suppose so.”
Exhaling, I look down at the ground to gather my courage and then move my eyes back up to Livingston. Before I can say a word, I’m interrupted.
“Livingston!” Momma says. “When did you arrive?”
Livingston holds my gaze for a second longer before he looks over my shoulder at Momma and gives her the award-winning smile he’s best known for.
“Only minutes ago, and may I say, Mrs. Pleasonton, it is a pleasure to see you again. I swear, you are agin’ in reverse.”