Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 05] by Deadly Caress

Author:Deadly Caress [Caress, Deadly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1902—3:00 P.M.

HART HAD BOUGHT HIS mistress a house on Fifth Avenue. Francesca walked slowly through a wrought-iron gate toward the stately brick mansion. She continued to worry about Catherine Holmes’s infatuation with her brother and Brendan Farr’s sudden involvement in the case. But as Francesca approached Daisy’s front door, she was well aware that her nervousness had nothing to do with the current investigation and everything to do with the visit she was about to make. It was odd, because she was genuinely fond of Daisy, who she suspected came from a background very much like her own. But now, with Hart’s intentions firmly declared toward her and the kiss they had so recently shared, she felt wary, as if calling upon the other woman was somehow an act that involved the enemy.

She also knew that Hart must never find out about this social call. For she simply had to pry—she had to know about his relationship with Daisy.

The front door was answered promptly by a servant. Francesca was ushered into a spacious entry hall with highly polished wood floors and a wide, sweeping staircase at its end. Several paintings hung on the walls, two landscapes, a still life, and a wonderful depiction of a mother and her daughter. Francesca handed over her calling card, briefly admiring the portrait of mother and child and hoping to distract herself from her anxiety. It had been painted by someone named Mary Cassatt.

“Francesca!” Daisy cried in genuine pleasure, hurrying down the stairs.

Francesca smiled warmly in return, for one moment forgetting the man who was the common bond between them. Daisy remained the most ethereal woman Francesca had ever seen, more angelic than womanly, a vision of moonlit tones and hues. Her hair was platinum, her skin a similar shade of ivory. She was slender and delicate. Her features were flawless—huge blue eyes, startling with such a fair complexion, high cheekbones, a slim nose. If her jaw was a bit strong, one hardly noticed, as her lips were unusually full.

She was the most beautiful woman Francesca had ever seen, bar none, even Leigh Anne. Francesca had not been surprised when Hart had made Daisy his mistress. They were perfectly suited to each other physically, as he was the shadowy night, she the moonlight.

“How are you, Daisy?” Francesca said. In a way, she felt like a traitor to her new friend. She knew that Daisy was very happy with Hart and their arrangement.

“Wonderful.” Daisy smiled. And to Francesca’s surprise, it did not reach her eyes. Her startling blue eyes were worried. What could be amiss?

Daisy took her hand. “Come. Come into the salon. I am so pleased you have called,” she said in her soft, breathy voice. The tone suited her fragile appearance.

A bit uncomfortable, Francesca followed her into an elegant salon, the walls a soft creamy gold, the furniture muted in tones of green, blue, and gold. Beautiful Persian rugs were underfoot, and three crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling. The room, like the house, was understated elegance.

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