Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 03] Read Online Free

faith in me,” she returned, but she was flushing with pleasure at his words.
    “Yes, I do,” he said evenly.
    She just looked at him and he simply looked back.
    It was too much to bear. The innocence of friendship vanished, replaced by something that was so much more. How close they stood to each other now. Francesca wished, fervently, that he were free. If he were a single man, undoubtedly he would pull her into his arms for an extremely intimate kiss.
    “I imagine you are behind,” he said, somewhat unevenly. He cleared his throat. “When do you have time to study? You are either studying, raising money, or solving murders—that is hardly conducive to attaining a higher education.”
    “It is very hard, being a reformer, a sleuth, and a student,” she said seriously.
    “Yes, it is. Francesca, what is wrong? I can see that something is bothering you. I hope it is your schedule and nothing more.” His golden gaze was penetrating.
    She wondered if he was referring to the truth that now lay, acknowledged, between them. The truth of the fact that he had a wife. Or was he referring to the
Sun
? “How could I have given an interview Tuesday? How, Bragg?” she asked. “Have you seen the
Sun
?”
    He seemed amused. “Yes, I have. You earned that interview, Francesca. Are you in trouble?”
    “Not yet. I hid today’s paper, and I have heard that Papa was very annoyed. I cannot even begin to explain to you what his morning papers mean to him. If he and Mama ever see that story, I am finished. I feel certain of that.”
    “Perhaps you should sit down,” he said, appearing amused.
    “Is this funny?” Francesca cried.
    He guided her to an overstuffed and shabby chair; the tweed wool fabric was torn in places. “No, I am sorry, not really.”
    She sat and twisted to look up at him. He remained lighthearted and even amused. “Bragg, if I am punished like some small child, this will hardly be a subject for laughter.”
    “I am sorry. But you were in danger, Francesca.” And he gave her a penetrating look, and he was no longer smiling.
    Even though the subject they had turned upon was now a serious one, his golden gaze did odd things to her heartbeat. She gripped the arms of the chair. “I was
briefly
in danger,” she said.
    “So now you rebut? Francesca, you were tied up! To a bed—and by a killer and the killer’s accomplice, I might add.” His eyes flashed.
    “I hardly knew what would happen when I went over to the house,” Francesca said.
    “You were in danger, Francesca, and you know that I do not approve of that. Perhaps you should rethink thisnew hobby of yours. Sleuthing, clearly, can be dangerous work, and you are a young woman.”
    “But we are partners. And I am a good sleuth. You said so yourself.”
    “You are an excellent detective,” he admitted grimly.
    “I cannot just quit, now. Are you working on a new case?” she asked suddenly, brightly.
    He rested a lean hip on the edge of his desk. She felt herself blush and she looked away. He said, “My detective bureau woks on all investigations, Francesca. You know that. My personal involvement with Eliza Burton precipitated my interest in that case, and the fact that Randall was Calder’s father assured my involvement there.”
    Calder Hart was Bragg’s half brother. They shared the same mother, Lily Hart, who had died of cancer when Bragg was a boy of eleven, Hart two years younger. Bragg’s father, Rathe Bragg, alerted to the existence of an illegitimate son, had taken both boys into his own rather large family. At the time, Rathe was a political appointee of President Grover Cleveland, and the family was residing in Washington, D.C. Later the Braggs returned to New York, but briefly, for their daughter Lucy’s wedding brought them to Texas. Francesca had overheard that Rathe and Grace were soon returning to New York, with several of their five children. She assumed the oldest ones were living on their own.
    Calder Hart had been a