Mrs. Pleasonton steps forward and shifts and pulls here and there before she’s content. “The veil, please,” she demands.
The three of us scurry toward the armoire where the veil hangs on one of the open doors. We’re all careful with the lace, as though we’re dressing the Queen for her coronation. In a lot of ways, that’s what is happening today. The rightful queen is taking her place next to her king. I can say with certainty that both of my brothers found their queens.
With my help, Mrs. Pleasonton places the veil onto Rainey’s head. The Battenburg lace is exquisite and drapes down her body, trailing behind her. This is the final touch her gown needed.
A sigh of contentment slips from Mrs. Pleasonton’s mouth as she looks at her daughter. “Well… Raina, you are just about the most stunnin’ creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
Rainey and Mrs. Pleasonton are continually at one another’s throats. They are similar in so many ways. But in this moment, there’s no hollering or arguing between them. Rainey looks to be on the verge of tears.
“Oh, shit,” Serene whispers as she turns away. “Stupid dust in my eyes.”
Rainey gives a short burst of laughter. Nearly everyone in the room, including me, dabs at their eyes, but it’s Serene’s remark that lightens the air.
Serene turns back, dabbing at her eyes. “She really does look beautiful. Reminds me of Duchess Kate on her wedding day.”
Frowning, I continue to watch Mrs. Pleasonton fuss over Rainey. “Who is Duchess Kate?”
Sighing, Serene shakes her head. “Oh, no one.” Serene’s brief reply tells me she’s speaking of someone from her time. She tries her hardest, but there are numerous gaffes on her part. No one outside our family is none the wiser.
Mrs. Pleasonton gives a small clap and snaps her fingers as though she’s herding cattle. We all turn toward her and find her gesturing toward the door. “We should make our way to the church or we are going to be late.”
Serene and I turn to Rainey. I link my arm through her right; Serene takes her left.
“Ready?” Serene asks.
Rainey takes a deep breath and nods. “Ready.”
When we arrive at the church, a chill goes down my spine because I was here not long ago, rushing through the doors and objecting to Asa’s wedding. That day did not end how I imagined, and even now when I think back on it, my heart aches at what could have been if I just would’ve arrived moments earlier.
Today, nothing is going to prevent Livingston and Rainey. The two of them belong together. If someone did object, they would have to go through me, Étienne, Mrs. Pleasonton, and Serene. I’m certain my sister-in-law isn’t above bodily harm to make certain this wedding has no blunders.
We stand with the bridal party outside, soaking up the Carolina winter breeze. With the sun shining down, it’s hard to believe it’s a December afternoon. Étienne walks down the front steps of the church and heads directly toward us. The handsome Beau Legare is beside him. Any women lingering outside gape at him. No man should be as beautiful as him. With his blond hair and golden skin, he looks like a Grecian god. His features are carved from stone: sharp and smooth. Bright blue eyes hide behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Beau doesn’t understand his attractiveness; his stutter makes him too shy.
Beau is the perfect man. Single with a respectable job as a lawyer. Yet when I look at him, my heart feels nothing. No flush to my cheeks, no restriction in breathing. Unfortunately, he’s a friend and nothing more. Étienne approaches Serene and slides his hand into hers. The two of them remind me of magnets. When they’re in vicinity of each other, they can’t be apart. Serene looks up at Étienne and smiles. “The three of you finally arrived.”
“We’re not that late,” Serene declares before she thinks twice. “Are we?”
“T-t-the guest a-are all s-sittin’,” Beau says.
Rainey’s eyes widen. “Oh, my Lord,” she declares and takes a deep breath.
“We’re not late,” Serene quickly says.
“She’s right,” I chime in. “I’d say we’re right on time.” I look to Beau and Étienne to agree. Immediately, Beau nods. Étienne clears his throat. “Yes, you arrived right on time.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me we were late?”
“Because we aren’t late, remember?” Serene clarifies with a smile.
“Serene is always late,” Étienne cuts in.
My sister-in-law looks at Étienne from the corner of her eye. “Of course, I’m late to you. You arrive fifteen minutes early to everything.”
“I like to be prompt.”
“Prompt or pompous?” Serene shoots back.
“I’m pompous because I like to be on time?” Étienne challenges.
“I’m sorry, are the two of you disagreein’ over time?” I ask with a smile.
Both Serene and Étienne glare at me, but I can’t be the only one amused by them.
“We’re not disagreeing,” Serene objects.
“She’s right.”
“We’re…” Serene searches for the right word.
“Havin’ a discussion,” Étienne provides.
Serene snaps a finger and points to Étienne. “Yes!” she exclaims. “We’re having that.”
“Well,” Rainey says as she gathers the back of her dress, “the two of you can continue your discussion out here on the sidewalk, but I would like to get married today.”
At once, the two of them break apart, with Étienne moving beside Rainey. “Of course, of course.”
“I see your momma is waving us closer,” I observe.
The moment we arrived at the church, Mrs. Pleasonton declared she was going inside to see where Livingston was and told Rainey, Serene and I to stay outside until she said it was time to come in.
“That probably means we need to line up.”
Étienne holds both arms out. One for his wife, and the other for the bride. He gives me a regretful smile. “I would escort you if I had more arms.”
“Please. You don’t need to worry.”
They begin to walk toward the church. Beau shyly stands back, looking at me and the ground before he offers his arm.
I smile brightly and hook my arm through his. “Thank you, Mr. Legare.”
His neck becomes red and the color spreads up to his cheeks. “Y-y-your’re welcome.”
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Yes. P-p-perfect day f-for a weddin’.”
I turn to him, words on my tongue, when I feel heat drift down my back. I look over one shoulder and see none other than Asa Calhoun steps behind me. He’s escorting Juliet, but he’s staring right at me. Those heartbreaking brown eyes pull me in as he carefully looks at me. How can he appear so stoic and imposing, yet seem confused and innocent by a simple downturn of the eye?
There is nothing innocent or confused in his gaze, though. I’ve seen that expression on his face. He’s jealous of Beau.
Quickly, I face forward and keep my gaze fixed on the church doors. Usually, I would comfort myself with the knowledge that I wouldn’t have to face him, but today, that’s not the case. I can’t evade him and the unbearable tension we’ve created for ourselves.