She sighs and looks in the direction of the window. I know her well enough to know she’s still not content with the arrangement. None of this is how she envisioned it occurring. And it makes me wonder, not for the first time, if she whispered nonsensical things into Miles’s ear about me to get him to change his will and add in the foolish dowry.
A light knock on the sitting room doors thankfully puts a pin in the conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved. The butler clears his throat. “You have a caller.”
Momma sends me a furtive glance, as though I’m a child she’s watching over and quickly stands. She speaks with the butler for a moment and then turns back to me. “Livingston is here to speak with you.”
In an instant, my relief turns to dread. That should have explained the sudden bounce in Momma’s step and the spark in her eye. I will never understand how he’s able to bewitch nearly every woman he meets.
“Why is he here?” I quietly ask myself before I stand from the couch. “Very well. I’ll make this quick.”
Momma places a hand on my arm, stopping me at the doorway. “Go gentle on him, Raina.”
“Momma, he’s not a baby deer.”
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.