Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 06] Read online

  PRAISE FOR BRENDA JOYCE’S

  DEADLY DESIRE

  “Even more deliciously tangled lives . . . The carefully woven plot and memorable characters kept me riveted and I hate having to wait for more.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A riveting storyline with more twists and turns than a mountain road.”

  —Old Book Barn Gazette

  “An addictive gift for the burned-out reader . . . vivid characterization, compelling drama, sudden twists, and a most gratifying shocker of an ending. The deadliest aspect of the ‘Deadly’ series is waiting for the next one.”

  —Writers Club Romance Group

  “A mixture of adventure, excitement and mysteries . . . there is always something going on to hold the attention of the readers. Great reading!”

  —Huntressreviews.com

  DEADLY AFFAIRS

  “Another scintillating romantic murder mystery . . . Brenda Joyce perfectly balances a strong mystery with a love story so that readers get exactly what they are looking for, both suspense and passion.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Fantastic . . . I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a series as much as ‘The Francesca Cahill Novels.’ They are a fresh, clever, titillating mixture of fun and seriousness.”

  —Reader to Reader

  “Immensely enjoyable . . . passionate and heartbreaking . . . readers will be captivated by Francesca’s charm, intelligence and courage as well as by Rick’s honor and integrity. I love this series and recommend it highly.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Continues to surprise . . . the sort of page-turning compulsions bestsellers are made of . . . Complex, engaging, and human, Francesca Cahill is a most unusual heroine.”

  —Writers Club Romance Group

  “The suspense mounts with each book in the series. Waiting for the next one is going to be almost unbearable.”

  —Old Book Barn Gazette

  DEADLY PLEASURE

  “Intriguing . . . a smooth, continuous literary flow . . . A wonderful whodunit, Victorian style.”

  —Affair de Coeur magazine

  “Enchanting . . . a page-turning, thoroughly entertaining read that is loaded with adventure, vibrant characters, witty dialogue, sexual attraction, and an enjoyable visit to turn-of-the-century New York City. This is Ms. Joyce at her best, giving the reader an appealing and captivating story that is alive with humor and a dazzling plot.”

  —Writers Club Romance Group

  DEADLY LOVE

  Fast-paced, sensual, and intriguing.”

  —Library Journal

  “The steamy revelations . . . are genuinely intriguing, and just enough of them are left unresolved at the book’s end to leave readers waiting eagerly for the series’ next installment . . . Joyce excels at creating twists and turns in her characters’ personal lives.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Joyce carefully crafted a wonderful mystery with twists and turns and red herrings galore, then added two marvelous, witty protagonists who will appeal to romance readers . . . Add to this a charming cast of secondary characters and a meticulously researched picture of society life in the early 1900s. I can hardly wait to see what Francesca and Rick will be up to next.”

  —Romantic Times

  “A delight!”

  —Reader to Reader

  TITLES BY BRENDA JOYCE

  Deadly Love

  Deadly Pleasure

  Deadly Affairs

  Deadly Desire

  Deadly Caress

  The Chase

  House of Dreams

  The Third Heiress

  The Rival

  Splendor

  The Finer Things

  Captive

  Beyond Scandal

  The Game

  After Innocence

  Promise of the Rose

  Secrets

  Scandalous Love

  The Fires of Paradise

  Dark Fires

  The Conqueror

  The Darkest Heart

  Lovers and Liars

  Violent Fire

  Firestorm

  Innocent Fire

  NOVELLAS BY BRENDA JOYCE

  Perfect Secrets

  Scandalous Weddings

  Outlaw Love

  Heart of the Home

  A Gift of Joy

  AVAILABLE FROM

  ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS

  Deadly

  Promise

  BRENDA JOYCE

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  DEADLY PROMISE

  Copyright © 2003 by Brenda Joyce Dreams Unlimited, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  ISBN: 0-312-98987-3

  Printed in the United States of America

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / November 2003

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For my shining star—Adam.

  CHAPTER

  ONE

  THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 1902—NEW YORK CITY

  FRANCESCA CAHILL MAY HAVE been born into society, in fact, she was an heiress of a very marriageable age, but recently she had become the city’s most famous (and infamous) amateur sleuth. Having spent her entire life flouting both the spoken and unspoken rules of convention, being well-read, highly educated and an active reformer, she was already considered both unmarriageable and an eccentric. Her behavior of the past three months had not aided her flailing personal reputation. For she had helped the police commissioner, Rick Bragg, solve several ghastly crimes—even making the headlines of some of the city’s most reputable dailies. All this while further scandalizing a good portion of society—not to mention her own family.

  Her reputation was currently in shreds, not that she cared. However, it might very well take a stunning turn for the better. For Francesca had somehow become secretly engaged to one of the city’s wealthiest and most notorious bachelors, Calder Hart. She still did not know whether to regret it or not. But if their engagement survived all that she had thus far done—and she winced thinking about it—a public announcement would take her from ugly duckling to swan.

  But she seriously doubted Hart would even speak with her now—much less continue their engagement.

  There was relief and there was regret.

  “Francesca Cahill! You disappeared for an entire month! And I am dying to know why!” the former Connie Cahill, now Lady Montrose, cried. She had just barged into Francesca’s bedroom.

  Francesca cringed, but only inwardly, as she faced her always fashionably and terribly elegant older sister. It was ironic that much of the city thought of her as a hero, she mused. It wasn’t true. She was, in fact, a coward, never mind the many dangerous and murdering hooks and crooks she had single-handedly faced and apprehended. She was a coward, because only a coward ran away from the man she was supposed to marry. She was a coward when it came to the darkly disturbing Calder Hart.

  Connie faced her after closing the door to Francesca’s beautifully appointed bedroom—a room she had had no say in decorating, as the decor had been chosen by her mother, Julia, and sister. Francesca hadn’t cared then, just as she did not
care now. Decor—and fashion, shopping, and teas—was hardly important to her. She forced a smile and hurried forward clad only in her corset and drawers and embraced her sister. “It’s so nice to see you, too,” she whispered, but she meant it. Connie was not just her sister; she was also her very best friend.

  “Do not think to dissemble with me,” Connie said, her hands on her slim hips. She was clad in a gorgeous dark blue evening gown, with sapphires around her throat and wrists, atop the white sateen gloves that ended at her elbows. “I know why you disappeared!” Her blue eyes flashed.

  Francesca tensed. Connie could not know. Before leaving town to visit an old and ailing and very fictitious school chum, she had left Hart a brief note, one that hardly explained anything but did request that their engagement remain a private affair until she returned to New York City. Wisely, Francesca hadn’t left a forwarding address; she had left the city to think about her life and her impulsive decision to accept Hart’s proposal. “What is it that you think you know?”

  Connie sighed then. “There is no Elizabeth Jane Seymour, Fran. I would recall a best friend by that name! You chose to leave the city because you could no longer handle the little predicament you have found yourself to be in.” Connie, who was a platinum blonde generally considered to be a great beauty, eyed Francesca with some smug satisfaction now.

  Francesca sighed in return. She hated deceiving anyone, much less her sister. And Connie was right. Marriage had never been a part of her agenda! What was she doing? Her agenda had been to become a journalist, to expose the world’s ills to society, so those with means could engender badly needed reforms and humanitarian aid. That agenda had included a higher education at a renowned women’s institution, Barnard College. However, her agenda—and her life—had begun to unravel some time ago: last January, to be exact. She had fallen in love while solving a terrible crime, and nothing had been—or would ever be—the same again.

  And to make matters worse, it hadn’t been Calder Hart whom she had fallen in love with.

  Perhaps Connie hadn’t learned about her engagement—which meant that neither had her mother. And it was Julia Van Wyck Cahill’s dearest desire to see Francesca suitably wed—immediately, before she solved another crime and garnered another headline. Julia was a very powerful woman who always got her way. “Yes, I found the heat too much to bear,” she said warily.

  Connie met her gaze. “The heat? You sound like that little hoodlum you are so fond of. Joel Kennedy.”

  “I suppose his ways are rubbing off on me,” Francesca murmured, as she had come to rely on the eleven-year-old heavily in her sleuthing. He knew the city’s worst wards intimately. He was her guide, and more.

  “Oh, Fran. They will both be at the Wainscot ball tonight.” Connie’s gaze moved to the bed behind Francesca, where a vivid and dark red ball gown lay. “Mama said you would attend. And I see you are wearing the red.” A knowing look came to her eyes and she smiled.

  “It’s not what you think!” Francesca cried. Both Rick Bragg, the city’s police commissioner, and his notorious and wealthy half brother, Calder Hart, would be at the Wainscot ball tonight. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought. Oh, God, what should she do? Was she doing the right thing? And how could one marry a man one didn’t love—even if that man’s mere look could enflame her entire body? And could two half brothers be more unalike—and more bitterly jealous of each other? If only they weren’t such rivals.

  “Then tell me what to think,” Connie said, moving to Francesca and placing her arm around her. Both sisters were considered almost as identical as twins, although Francesca’s hair was the color of rich honey and her skin was tinged with tones of peach and gold. Francesca knew that was not true. Her sister was beautiful, while she, Francesca, was on the ordinary side of pretty. Connie always stood out in a crowd, but Francesca had been a wallflower (and a bookworm) for most of her life.

  Until recently.

  Francesca sat down beside her and they clasped hands. “I have been worried about me, too,” she said softly.

  “Oh, Fran, didn’t a month away clear your head?”

  “Yes . . . and no,” Francesca whispered.

  “You are still torn between Bragg and Hart?” Connie wasn’t smiling now. She was concerned.

  Francesca nodded, wishing she knew what to do—then slowly pulled a chain out of her bodice. On the end dangled a huge pear-shaped diamond ring, one worth quite the fortune. Her heart beat harder as she dangled the huge engagement ring.

  Connie’s eyes widened. “Oh my.”

  “Yes, oh my.”

  Connie blinked and met Fran’s gaze. “You are engaged?”

  “We were. Briefly. Secretly,” she added. “I have no idea if we still are—and if we aren’t, why, then it is for the best. Marriage is not for me and we both know it.” But her words rang false and hollow.

  Connie shot to her feet. “What nonsense is this? You fool! To run away and sabotage the best thing that could happen to you! I pray you are wrong and that you haven’t single-handedly destroyed this opportunity, Fran.”

  Francesca swallowed. A part of her desperately wished that she had not run away—and that she had not sabotaged her secret engagement, too. “Can I ride over to the ball with you and Neil? I am really not in the mood for Mama’s lectures tonight.”

  Connie nodded. “Of course.” But she was staring intently now. “Still, you have been wearing his ring around your neck. Did you take it off even once?” She did not wait for Francesca to answer. “I daresay you did not. And you are wearing the dress. The dress he likes. I do think I am underestimating you.”

  “I am a fool, Connie, to think I am special, because every single woman he has had has thought the exact same thing!” Francesca cried. And it was the truth.

  Connie gripped her shoulders. “But you are special! Good God, you are the bravest and most clever—and most stubborn—woman I know. You have spent your entire life since you were a child defending the rights of the poor and the helpless and fighting for those rights! You attend college, Fran, college; how many women do that? And need I add that you have become the city’s most famous sleuth in the past three months? You have made the news, Fran. You have brought terrible criminals to justice.”

  Francesca blinked. “Well, when you say it that way, I do seem rather eccentric.”

  “No, not eccentric, original and brave and beautiful and special!” Connie cried.

  Francesca hugged her hard. “You are the best sister a girl could ever have,” she whispered.

  “I wish you could see yourself the way that the rest of the world does—the way that I do.”

  Francesca smiled. “I’d better dress. I am quite late.”

  “Yes, you are late.” Connie smiled back as warmly. “Do you need help? Should I call Bette?”

  “I’m fine,” Francesca said, turning to gather up the provocative red dress. But it was a lie. She wasn’t fine.

  She was terrified.

  Francesca handed off her wrap. She was wearing the daring red, with black gloves that ended past her elbows, and she was clutching a ruby red beaded reticule—in which she carried the ring. Her hair had been tonged and swept up, and Connie had insisted she wear a delicate diamond necklace and small pearl-and-diamond earbobs. As Connie handed off her sable stole, Francesca glanced from the front hall into a large reception room with pale marble floors, a huge crystal chandelier, and white plaster walls. As they were very late, a crowd had gathered already, the ladies in glittering jewels and sleeveless silks and taffetas and chiffons, the men in black tuxedos. White-coated waiters were passing trays containing flutes of champagne. A band was playing in the adjoining ballroom. Francesca saw her brother, Evan, standing beside the flamboyantly beautiful countess, Bartolla Benevente, and then saw Rick Bragg.

  Her heart skidded to a stop.

  But he had already seen her, even from this distance, and he was staring, his eyes wide with surprise. He took a step toward her and Franc
esca tensed, now seeing the beautiful and petite woman at his side. Leigh Anne was tiny, her skin porcelain, her eyes emerald green, her hair raven black. She looked like a perfect little doll. Francesca’s heart sank.

  Bragg walked toward Francesca, his strides lengthening, leaving his wife standing there with a group of people Francesca did not know.

  “You had better come to your senses and soon, Fran,” Connie whispered. “I have seen them out and about constantly since you were gone. She is on his arm every time I see him at a function. She is well liked. She has joined several organizations, including the Ladies Club of Fifty and the Committee of Fifteen,” Connie said, referring to several political organizations dedicated to the good-government reform movement. “And the other day, she invited me to a luncheon.”

  Francesca froze. For a moment, it was impossible to breathe. Leigh Anne was taking up reform? It hardly seemed fair! “You declined.”

  Connie was grim. “I accepted. The luncheon is tomorrow. The agenda is public education. I do believe the merits of fund-raising for more schools will be discussed.”

  Public education in the city was a disaster. Thousands of children did not attend school because there were simply not enough schools and not enough teachers. The city’s recently elected mayor, Seth Low, had been elected on a very progressive platform, which included good government—government to ultimately benefit the people. And that included education.

  As Connie had said, Francesca had been a reformer since she was a child, first selling cookies to raise money for orphans. She belonged to six societies, including the Citizen’s Union Ladies Club, and was active in them all. Education for everyone was at the top of her agenda—and Connie knew that. Now, Francesca was torn between anger and admiration for a woman she so wanted to despise. Leigh Anne was beyond beautiful—but surely she was not a reformer at heart. Surely it was a ploy to capture Rick Bragg’s heart.

  “Why don’t you join me?” Connie asked. “She has invited thirty of the city’s wealthiest women. She probably intends to ask each and every one of us for a handsome donation. These are ladies you should know, Fran.”