Бренда Джойс – Deadly Kisses (страница 2)

Francesca tensed. “Papa, can’t it wait?” she began. She had the dreadful feeling he was going to talk to her about Hart, a subject they had carefully avoided for an entire month. Unless he had changed his mind about them, Francesca did not want to hear whatever her father had to say.

“I think we have gone on at great odds for long enough,” he said firmly.

Francesca knew that tone. She waited while he kissed Julia’s cheek, bidding her good-night. Then Francesca and Andrew started through the front hall, arm in arm. All of the servants had discreetly vanished, and their heels clicked on the black-and-white marble floors.

“I believe Hart is back in town.”

Francesca was dismayed. “No, Papa, he is not due back for at least another day, and probably he will not be back until Wednesday.”

“Ben Garret saw him this afternoon crossing the street,” Andrew said curtly. And finally he softened. “Or he thought he did. We had lunch and he mentioned your engagement.”

There was no mistaking her father’s intended subject now. They paused on the threshold of his study, a large library with wood-paneled walls; high, pale green ceilings; hundreds of books, most political or philosophical in nature; electric lights; and the family’s single telephone. Beneath the emerald-green marble mantle a small fire crackled in the fireplace.

“Papa, you broke off our engagement,” Francesca said softly. But she twisted the huge diamond engagement ring which she still wore, refusing to take it off.

Andrew regarded her unhappily. “I intended to break it off, but your mother has openly defied me, gleefully telling everyone we meet about your engagement. In private, she won’t even speak to me!” he exclaimed. “And do you think I am blind? I see the ring you continue to wear!”

Francesca flushed. “Calder gave me the ring, Papa, and it is a token of his admiration and respect. I simply cannot part with it.”

He sighed heavily and walked over to the fireplace, staring down at the flames. “I could tell you stories until I was blue in the face about gullible young women falling for handsome rakes. But like each and every one of those young, naive women, you would not listen to me. You would think you are different, that you are the one to finally capture the cad’s heart.”

Francesca went and stood besides him nervously. “Unlike all those other cads, Hart has never suggested that I have captured his heart. But he has told me how much he admires and respects me, how dearly he needs my friendship, and how well he thinks we suit.”

“So you are not marrying for love?” Andrew asked skeptically. “You are marrying for respect, for friendship?”

Francesca gave him a look. “I love Calder. I have never been so in love. He has a good side, Papa, one that quite contradicts his selfish reputation. And while he says he does not believe in love, he is very fond of me. I wish you could believe that! I think we suit.”

“I never said he was not fond of you. I believe he cares for you. Why else would he want to marry you? He hardly needs your money—he is as rich as Hades! But I cannot approve when I know with all of my being that he will hurt you terribly one day. A man like that will eventually stray.”

Francesca turned away, trembling. Hart had promised her undying loyalty and fidelity. He claimed he was tired of the life he had thus far led, and while Francesca believed him, she could not help but be afraid that the day might come when his head would be turned by a woman far more beautiful than she was. In fact, such a possibility was her single greatest fear.

“Papa, I hate being at odds with you. I know all of your arguments. We both know he has been a cad when it comes to women—just as you know I am the first woman he has ever asked to marry. Why can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt? If I am making a mistake, isn’t it mine to make?”

He faced her fully and clasped both of her hands. “I am so proud of you. You are so beautiful, so caring and so committed to humanity, Francesca. While I do wish your new profession was not so dangerous, you have saved many lives and brought justice to those who desperately needed it. You and Hart have nothing in common!” he exclaimed. “I understand that he has turned your head, but what about a dozen years from now? You have dedicated your life to easing the pain and the burdens of others less fortunate that yourself. Hart is the most selfish man I know. Passion will not ensure a successful marriage, Francesca, not for the long term.”

She pulled away. “That is unfair! You are judging Hart based solely on his reputation. You do not even know him, Papa. He has been nothing but noble to me. If you cast stones at him, Papa, then you cast them at me, too. Please, please trust me now.”

He appeared ready to weep. “Francesca, you have been too kind and trusting since you were a small child, bringing home stray dogs and cats. I keep thinking that Hart is another stray, a man with no real advocates. Are you certain that you really wish to rescue him this way?”

Francesca knew she was Hart’s only genuine friend—he had admitted it. But surely, surely she wasn’t rescuing him as she had all of those strays? If her feelings weren’t love, then Francesca did not know what they could be. “If I am rescuing him, I cannot help my self. Papa, you know that I have never been accepted in society, not until this engagement. Mama’s friends and their daughters always saw me as an eccentric, and they never even tried to make me a part of their circle. Has it ever occurred to you that Hart is rescuing me?”

Andrew looked at her with surprise.

She held up her hand and the huge diamond there caught the room’s lights and flashed. “It feels so right, Papa, being with him. And not because of passion, but because he has become my dearest and best friend. I am begging you to give him another chance. Please. Because you love me, give Calder one more chance to prove himself to you.”

He stared for a long moment. Francesca stood very still, praying he would agree.

“I have treated you as an equal your entire life,” he said slowly. “And even though my heart is telling me not to do so, I surrender. You are a brilliant young woman, and I am hoping that you will come to your senses before it is too late. But until then, I will give Hart another chance—as long as you wait a year before you marry.”

“A year!” Francesca gasped, her pleasure dissolving.

“A year,” Andrew returned calmly. “I know that seems like a long time, Francesca, but it is nothing when you think of a commitment made for the rest of your life. If you still feel this way next June, I will give you my blessing.”

Francesca forced her dismay aside and managed a smile. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you so much.” She hugged him hard.

He tilted up her chin. “I have always been proud of your independent thinking,” he said with a sigh. “I have been wrong to think I could dictate to you after allowing you a lifetime of independence.”

She softened. “I am who I am because of you, Papa. I owe you everything.” She kissed his cheek, suddenly lighthearted. If she could control her lustful nature—or convince Hart to take her to bed before they were married—maybe waiting to marry wasn’t such a bad thing. The year would give Andrew enough time to really get to know and like Hart. “Good night, Papa.” Francesca stepped into the hall.

“Miss?” Her personal maid, Betty, appeared at the far end of the corridor. In her hand was an envelope.

Francesca was surprised to see her. “Betty, why didn’t you go to bed? I told you, I do not mind.” She saw no reason for Betty to wait up for her. Other young ladies might be incapable of getting out of their gowns, but she could manage quite easily and hardly needed a servant to help.

Betty, who was Francesca’s own age, smiled at her. “Oh, miss, it is so hard to get those buttons opened by yourself! And it’s my work to take care of you. Besides, this come for you, and the cabbie who brought it said it was urgent, miss, terribly so.”

As it was almost midnight, Francesca was intrigued. She took the small envelope, noting its premier quality. It was addressed to her at her Fifth Avenue home, but bore no sender’s name. “A cabdriver brought this?”

“Yes, miss.”

Francesca unsealed the envelope and pulled out a small parchment. The note was brief and handwritten.

Francesca, I am in desperate need. Please come to Daisy’s.

Rose

FRANCESCA LEANED FORWARD eagerly in the hansom cab she had hired. Stealing out of the house at the midnight hour had been easily accomplished, with her father still in the library and her mother upstairs and presumably in bed. The doorman, Robert, had pretended not to see her escape—but then, she gave him a weekly gratuity to ensure that he look the other way at such times.

After leaving the house, she had walked to the prestigious Metropolitan Club, but a block south of the Cahill home. There, she had merely waited for a gentleman to arrive at the club. Traffic was light, as it was a Monday night, but this was New York City, and eventually a hansom had paused before the club’s imposing entrance to discharge his fare. Not wanting to be recognized, Francesca had bowed her head as a gentleman walked past her, but she knew he stared, as genuine ladies did not travel about the city at such an hour alone.