"Mother?"
"We need to talk." It was more of a command than anything. Keeping the lazy smile firmly in place, he followed her into his father's old study. Since his father's death, Royce had officially taken over the family business as well as the responsibility for his two brothers and his mother. Whatever she had to say to him, it more than likely had to do with him needing to grow up. Not that he felt the need to rush things. He was, after all, only twenty-five.
"Sit," she ordered, her hands trembling with nervousness as she straightened her dress.
He sat and looked at her through hooded eyes. Boots perfectly polished. Wavy black hair tucked behind his ears.
And waited.
"I'm only going to say this once, Royce."
"That's a relief," he joked.
"Royce Donald McArthur, this is serious!"
"Yes, Mother. I can tell by your smile."
"I am not smiling!" Her tiny voice reached a higher pitch, but even he noted that the corners of her mouth had turned, just slightly, revealing a grin.
"Aw, there it is!" He pointed.
"Royce!" She grinned and then closed her eyes. "I cannot even look at you. I look at you and lose my ability to think straight."
"Do you know I get that a lot? Usually from lady friends, though just last week an odd-looking gentleman paid me a similar compliment. Do please continue. I like to hear more of my attributes."
"Oh, Lord, what have I done to deserve such a vain son?" His mother clasped her hand over her forehead and fell into the chair beside him.
"Do you think he'll answer?"
"Who, dear?"
"God. Because if He does, can you please ask Him why He cursed me with this wretched ache in my back, because—"
He stopped talking, mainly because his mother did not appear amused, and he was wise enough to stop conversing when he had pushed her past her limits.
"That is sacrilege, you spoiled, spoiled boy."
"Thank you, I do try." He inspected his nails and patted her hand patronizingly. "Now, what is it you wish to discuss with me? The weather? Our money—we are extremely wealthy by the way, thanks to another new investment—or how about dresses? Would you like to go shopping, Mother? Is the décor in the house to your liking? Traveling, maybe? You should like to take a trip to London! Visit some of our cousins! Who are they again? Oh yes, the Duke of Tempest, good fellow. Heard he just got married. Brilliant match."
"Cease talking before I grab your father's pistol."
He stopped talking.
"My dear, I love you. You know I do, but you need to grow up."
He was a genius. He nodded his head in agreement but was more concerned with the idea of locking himself in the house for a few days to escape the wrath of the mistresses. Which is how he would now refer to them, considering they were in league against him.
"I love you too, Mother. How would you like me to prove my maturity?"
"I need grandchildren."
Royce nearly choked "Ask John."
"No."
Royce ran his hand through his thick hair. "Fine. Then ask Ronald."
"He's one and eight, Royce, and just yesterday he asked me how many continents were on the planet."
Royce shrugged, "Nobody ever accused him of being the smartest of the bunch. You've never mentioned this whole grandchild business before. Why is it important now?"
"I'm dying."
"From not having grandchildren?" Royce concluded.
"No, Royce!" This time her pain was real. "I'm dying every day. I'm getting older and older, and well, I know it's hard for you to understand, since you're so young, but I want to see my grandchildren before I pass. Time is precious. We saw just how precious when your father passed on."
Royce refused to talk about his father for that reason. He had wasted time, and now he was gone. It was the reason why Royce lived for every moment rather than carefully calculating every move. It was also why, from a business standpoint, he was so successful.
"When?" he asked, afraid of the answer. Perhaps it was time to settle down. Being chased by crazed women was hazardous to his health and growing tiresome. They had almost torn him limb from limb tonight. Yes, marriage was beginning to sound better every moment. One woman? How bad could it be? More than likely he would be given at least a year to settle down.
"Before the spring ends," his mother answered.
"As in…" He mentally calculated how many months he had, and then felt the room shrinking around him. "As in four months?"
His mother nodded. "Four months. Choose wisely, son. Marriage is forever."
With that his tiny mother lifted herself out of her chair and abruptly left him alone to suffocate in the tiny, hot room. He had to get married in four months. His mind spun frantically.
The two women he had been spending time with recently both wanted to kill him, and there were no prospects within hundreds of miles; had there been any, he would have courted them already. If he was to be married in four months, he needed to find a suitable girl. And fast.
****
Evelyn tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. The months of training had led to this moment. The moment she would be presented to the richest and most powerful families in American society.
Her father had paid the best tutors for the past year, yet she still felt like she wasn't ready. You can't take the farm out of the girl. It wasn't possible, not when one's whole life revolved around said farm.
She still had her thick accent despite her etiquette teacher's efforts to beat it out of her, literally. Every time she said y'all she was smacked with a stick.
Needless to say, she had a lot of marks.
Crunching the silk dress between her fingers, she marched into the giant ballroom and gasped. It was everything she'd imagined! Her grin widened as she looked up and noticed the giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Everyone was dancing splendidly. It was something out of her dreams. Everywhere she looked there were pretty dresses and laughing people.
It was her heaven.
Taking another steadying breath, she made her away across the room to the only other person she knew in attendance.
Her father.
"Aw, darlin', you are a sight!"
She twirled in front of him and tried to ignore the wells of tears pooling in his eyes. "Daddy, this is wonderful."
"I know, Babydoll. You just have yourself some fun."
She nodded and walked off. To where, she didn't know. It wasn't as if she knew a soul at the ball. The family had been quite reclusive since selling everything back home in Louisiana and moving to New York.