Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 02] Read Free

morrow. He is here, by the way. We came up together,” Andrew said.
    Her heart stopped. Then she saw her father studying her, and she ducked her head. As much as she adored Papa—and he was always on her side—he and Mama talked. And too frequently, the subject they discussed was their children. Connie, Francesca’s sister, had married Lord Neil Montrose four years ago, and recently Evan’s engagement had been announced. So that now left Francesca. She had little doubt that she would be the featured topic of most of their remaining conversations, and it would only get worse once Evan was married.
    “Do we have to discuss the police department tonight?” Julia said firmly. “Andrew, I must meet White. Francesca, on second thought, you stay here.”
    Francesca stiffened. “Mama, that is not fair.”
    Julia ignored her. “I am afraid she might get even more unusual ideas from White, Andrew. In fact, having seen some of the crowd present, I am not sure allowing her to come has been a good idea.”
    “Papa?” Francesca protested.
    “For once I am in agreement with your mother,” Andrew said, taking Julia’s arm. “I did not like the idea of bringing you here tonight to begin with. We will be back shortly.”
    Francesca stared after them as they moved toward the distinguished but flamboyantly clad gentleman with the head of white hair who was holding court on the center of the dance floor. The two women who were not quite genteel remained in the crowd, and now Francesca saw a very severely dressed woman with hair cropped short also in the crowd—the woman looked rather mannish and very intelligent, too. Francesca wondered who she was.
    Francesca suddenly squinted. A dark-haired gentleman clad in a black tuxedo stood beside White, speaking to a lady, his very white teeth flashing. The tall, swarthy gentleman was more than familiar, she realized with a start, staring openly. Wasn’t that Bragg’s half brother, Calder Hart?
    “You took that extremely well,” a voice said behind her.
    Francesca no longer saw Calder Hart. Bragg’s breath feathered her bare nape, sending chills up and down her spine. She turned and looked into a pair of darkly golden eyes.
    He bowed, hiding a smile. “Good evening, Miss Cahill.”
    “Bragg.” She tried to sound casual and she also tried to hide her own answering smile.
    “Cahill.” Rick Bragg nodded at Evan, who had suddenly materialized beside Francesca. She felt like kicking him—his timing was impeccably rotten. She gave him an annoyed look, but Evan ignored it.
    “So what brings you here, Bragg?” Evan asked, somewhat coolly.
    Bragg smiled. “The usual—an invitation.” His gaze turned to Francesca. And it slid warmly over her face.
    She knew she flushed as she smiled at him. Bragg wore a white dinner jacket and black evening trousers. His tawny hair, a blend of copper, gold, and blond, glinted from the light cast by the huge overhead chandeliers. All last week he had seemed exhausted during the investigation into the Burton Abduction. Tonight he radiated masculinity, virility, and good health.
    He also seemed pleased to see her. Amusement flickered briefly in his eyes. “So what is the plan?”
    “The plan?” she managed.
    “Surely you have a plan. With which to thwart your mother and go and meet White?” More amusement made him smile slightly, briefly.
    “There is no plan.” She took a breath, amazed with herself for being so easily flustered. “I shall meekly accept my fate this night.”
    He laughed. “Meekly? I doubt that.”
    “You shall see a new side of me, I fear.”
    He chuckled again. “But perhaps I like the old side?”
    She stopped smiling. Their gazes held. His smile faded.
    Evan coughed. “No police business tonight?”
    “Unfortunately, there is always police business to attend to,” Bragg said, not even glancing at Evan.
    Francesca wet her lips. “I was surprised to hear that you would be here tonight. This is the last place I would