Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 02]

P
RAISE FOR
D
EADLY
L
OVE
BY
B
RENDA
J
OYCE

F
RIDAY
, J
ANUARY
31, 1902—9:00
P.M.

Stanford White was having a party, and for the first time in her life, Francesca had practically begged her mother to be allowed to attend, in an abrupt reversal of character and inclination. Indeed, ever since turning sixteen four years ago and being informally introduced to society, Francesca had determinedly avoided all such events.

Now, she paused with her mother, Julia Van Wyck Cahill, and her brother, Evan, inside the doorway of Madison Square’s Rooftop Garden, which White had not only designed, as he was one of the city’s most brilliant architects, but which he had also taken over for the evening’s soiree. Guests in tuxedos and evening gowns continued to move past the Cahills as they arrived, filing around numerous goldswagged tables, all with exotic floral arrangements and set about a large dance floor. Francesca was oddly breathless, but she told herself it was due to the rush, and she had to try hard indeed not to keep glancing repeatedly over her shoulder.

Still, the doorway remained just within the line of her vision.

“You are behaving most oddly, Francesca,” Julia murmured, elegantly clad in a pale green evening gown and more diamond jewelry than most women would ever set their eyes upon, much less wear. “First, you insist upon attending the White fete, and now, you cannot keep your eyes in your head. And you are fidgeting. What is this about?”

Francesca managed to smile at her mother, the arriving guests a blur in the corner of her vision. “Mama, perhaps I am finally maturing? After all, I am twenty now. I have finally seen the error of my ways. It is really quite simple. You have been right and I have been wrong; a young lady should be social and charming, and neither a recluse nor a bluestocking.”

Her brother, who knew she secretly attended Barnard College and often stayed up most of the night to study, began to choke.

Julia, who had been gazing at the crowd, remarking all those whom she knew—and she did know everybody—whipped her regard back to her daughter, her eyes wide with suspicion. Evan, tall, dark, and handsome, especially in his tuxedo, finally gave in to his laughter. Francesca gave him a very cross and dangerous look. It said,
Keep quiet or you shall suffer the consequences.

“You are up to something,” Julia stated firmly. “Of that I have no doubt. I am only hoping it is as simple as wanting to gawk at White. We have had enough drama and mystery these past few weeks to last a lifetime, I daresay.”

Francesca smiled angelically at her mother, and as she was blond and blue-eyed, the effect was one of utter innocence. Her mother, she knew, referred to the terrible crime that had happened right under their very noses two weeks ago—their neighbor’s child had been abducted out of his bed by a madman. Julia was also referring to the fact that Francesca had been up to her own nose in the criminal affair—but on the side of law and order and justice.

“I am not up to anything, Mama,” she murmured now, a tiny white lie. It was no easy task keeping her mother ignorant of all that she did these days. “But of course, as White is quite notorious for his personal affairs and his rather lavish, if not self-indulgent, behavior, it will be most interesting to meet him.” The truth was, Francesca could not care less about greeting their infamous host. Perhaps, before the events of the past few weeks, she might have sought such an opportunity. But White was
not
the reason she had come to the overly ostentatious party.

“And you will be polite but discreet when you do meet him,” Julia advised. “I will not have him, in his unorthodox views, encouraging you in yours.”

Evan chuckled again. “I fear you have made a vast mistake, Mama, and this is one event Fran should not be attending. I fear she and White just might get along—too well. What if he should decide to become her mentor?”

Francesca scowled at him. “Isn’t Sarah Channing somewhere about, Evan?” she asked sweetly. “Shouldn’t you attend your fiancée?” Evan had recently become engaged.

But Evan was not to be dissuaded. “Perhaps I will chaperon you, Fran. God forbid White should affect and even increase your independent thinking and ways. Then what would the world do!”

Had he been closer, she would have stepped upon his foot with her pointy heel. Just then, she felt sorry that he knew the first but not the last of her secrets, even though she did adore him. “Thank you, Evan, for your loyalty.” Then she realized another guest was arriving, and she whirled to stare—only to be disappointed, as it was a gentleman she did not know.

Evan leaned close as Julia stepped away to speak with a couple who lived just down the avenue from the Cahill mansion. “Careful, Fran. You will give yourself away.”

“I do not know what you mean.” She batted her eyes at him.

“I think you do.” He grinned and winked. “Mother will discern whom you are waiting for in all of two seconds if you continue to carry on so. And I do believe she has forbidden any interest on your part in our new police commissioner.”

Rick Bragg had recently been appointed commissioner of police. The appointment was a controversial one, as their new mayor was a man of principle, having been elected on the platform of reform, determined to right the ills inflicted upon the city by Tammany Hall. As Seth Lowe’s appointee, Bragg was expected to reform the notoriously corrupt police department, no easy task indeed. He hailed from the Texas Braggs, a fine and wealthy family, although he had been born in New York City in rather unfortunate and improper circumstances—that is, on the wrong side of the blanket. The tall, tawny-haired, darkly handsome, and very determined police commissioner had been educated at Columbia University and Harvard Law School, and he had, until recently, resided in Washington, D.C., where he had been in private practice. Francesca had met Bragg exactly two weeks ago when she had discovered the first of a series of extremely bizarre “ransom” notes left by the madman who had abducted Jonny Burton.

“I am hardly carrying on,” she said, low, vastly irritated now. Evan knew her too well, but then, she was not adept at hiding her feelings—she had never had to do so before.

For she had never had feelings like this before.

“You are acting like all of the marriage-mad, love-struck females you so disdain,” he said, giving her a direct glance, one filled with more mirth. “You are a woman after all, Fran.”

She stared, wanting to protest that it was not true. But she could not deny being a woman, of course. Still, she had so prided herself on being different from the marriage-mad females her own age. Now, she remained mute. Because in the matter of a few days, in the course of one fantastic criminal investigation, her entire life had been turned upside down.

Evan patted her shoulder, which was bare, as she wore a peach chiffon gown with tiny cap sleeves that fell upon her upper arms. “You are cute, this way,” he said, his tone rather patronizing. “It’s nice, for a change, not to listen to you sermonizing about sweatshops and temperance, about the poor and the indigent, about Tammany Hall and everything else you can think of! Perhaps you are normal after all, Fran,” he said, laughter in his dark blue eyes.

“I am not cute and I am not ‘normal’ and I am not being any
way”
Francesca huffed. “And nothing has changed,” she declared, wishing that she meant it.

He grinned and walked away.

Francesca took a deep breath and glanced around, somewhat shaken—because Evan was right, no matter how she might pretend that he was not. And it was almost inexplicable. How
had
this happened? Francesca had spent most of her life avoiding the hobbies and pastimes enjoyed by other young women her age. She had discovered books at a very tender age—she was six when she began to read, and her love affair with the written word and all that it entailed had never ended. For Francesca Cahill was a bluestocking through and through—enrolling at Barnard College had hardly been a whim. In fact, knowing how her mother would react should she ever learn of Francesca’s pursuit of a higher education made it a very serious act indeed. Fortunately her parents were very generous in regard to Francesca’s spending; nor did they question her sudden inclination to purchase a new wardrobe. Francesca had also borrowed money from her sister.