Deadly Love by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce [Joyce, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
Published: 2011-12-28T05:30:19+00:00

Francesca gripped the seat of the hansom, staring through the window in amazement, as her cab drew abreast of the entrance to her driveway. For three police wagons and Bragg’s roadster were parked in front of the Burton house. The mansion was ablaze with lights.

Something had happened.

Francesca had not a doubt, just as she had not a doubt that it was something terrible. “Stop, driver, stop right here!” she shouted, banging on the partition.

The hansom braked hard. The horse danced in its traces in protest.

“How much?” Francesca was already digging into her purse. And even as the cabby answered her, her mind was racing. She had to know what had occurred. Yet could she just jump out of the cab and rush into the Burtons’ home? How could she not?

Francesca leapt out of the hansom. She was in such a rush that she fell headlong onto her hands and knees on a patch of lumpy gray ice.

She inhaled hard and got to her feet. As she stood up, the front door of the house opened, and she had a clear view of Bragg standing in the hall, gesturing in that terse, commanding way of his. He was with a pair of officers and two detectives. Both detectives hurried from the house and outside to one of the wagons, where shivering patrolmen were standing.

Bragg was turning away. He shot back around, having seen Francesca.

The entire episode of that evening flashed through her mind. She desperately wanted to spill all. As Francesca hurried forward, she cautioned herself not to say a word. Hadn’t he told her himself that words could never be taken back? She needed to think things through. She could always tell him about the interlude with Gordino if she thought it best to do so on the morrow. It wasn’t as if she had learned anything useful, anyway. And she felt a twinge of guilt. Bragg would certainly want to know Gordino’s whereabouts.

He was hurrying down the front steps. “Francesca?” He seemed incredulous, and his gaze went past her. Clearly he was stunned to find her without an escort.

Francesca forced a bright smile. But she wondered if the smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke and overpowering perfume was hanging on to her from the saloon. “Bragg,” she heard herself cry. And she heard the odd note of relief in her own tone.

He felt like a safe haven, even though the horror of the evening was long past.

And then she looked beyond him at the brilliantly illuminated house. Or was it?

“What are you doing out alone at this hour?” he demanded, taking her by the arm. He drew her directly under a street lamp. And he stared at her face. “Are you all right?” Suddenly he leaned closer, eyes dark and intent, and he sniffed.

“I am fine!” she cried gaily. “I have passed the evening at Connie’s. I often go there alone—it is just round the corner, as you probably know.”

He stared at her.

Francesca continued to smile. How hard it was.

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