Free Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 04] by Deadly Desire

Peter to remain behind today as I had the feeling he would be very much in demand.” He sighed. “I was also afraid to leave Mrs. Flowers alone with the children.”
    Francesca winced and looked back at Lucy, who rode in the backseat of the Daimler, and had she been a horse, her ears would have been pricked forward. “Bragg is fostering two orphans. Their mother was murdered by a lunatic. My mother just found him a nanny,” she explained.
    Lucy said, “This is amazing.”
    Bragg glanced briefly back at her. “Not a word. They are pure mischief, a constant headache, and it is a temporary situation.”
    “I see,” Lucy said, her fine red brows arched. “My brother loves children,” she remarked.
    “I would have never guessed,” Francesca quipped.
    Bragg shot her a look. “I was expecting to have my own children in the house, not two orphans, one of whom piddles wherever she pleases, the other who refuses to eat.”
    “Oh my,” Lucy said, smothering a laugh. “How ever did you arrange this?”
    “I begged,” Francesca said, but she was not smiling, because Bragg was grim and she just knew he was thinking about the fact that he would never have children now. He had told her so himself. He despised his wife that much.
    “How did you determine when the attack on Sarah’s studio took place?” Bragg asked, finally driving past the trolley
and quite obviously changing the topic. Now two horsedrawn carriages blocked their way. Traffic was heavy for a Saturday.
    “They returned at half past ten on Thursday from an evening out,” Francesca said quickly. “Sarah went back to her studio until ten past midnight.” She grimaced a little, thinking about the fact that Sarah had been arranging the composition of her portrait for Calder Hart. “Sarah discovered the disaster this morning at five-fifteen, which is the time she usually begins work. The staff sleep on the fourth floor; a single doorman was on. I have already spoken to Harris, the doorman, who has been with the Channings for six years. He did not fall asleep, and he did not see or hear anything.”
    “Have you spoken to the rest of the staff?” Bragg asked. The park had appeared on their right. It was brilliantly white with snow, and numerous sleds could be seen on a distant hill where both children and adults were enjoying the afternoon. Two riders were cantering across the Great Lawn, and numerous pedestrians were strolling on the track.
    “There was no time,” Francesca said. “I thought I should go to you directly.”
    “Does Sarah have any suspicions as to who the culprit might be?”
    “No. She says she has no enemies. There is one other idea I have had.”
    “Do tell.”
    “She says she doesn’t know the names of most of the staff, as she is always either in her studio or wandering about thinking about her work. Perhaps a servant misinterpreted her manner as being insulting and rude; perhaps a servant was deranged enough to decide to vandalize her studio.”
    “A servant would certainly have easy access,” Lucy remarked.
    Bragg and Francesca turned to look at her. She smiled at them both.
    Then Lucy said, “But what about a jilted debutante? If your brother is a catch, I would not be surprised if we found out that some spoiled young woman had become furiously
angry over such a lost opportunity, enough so to attack Sarah’s studio.”
    He raised a brow at her. “If we found out?”
    Lucy grinned. “If the two of you found out.”
    “You and Evan should put your heads together and see what comes up,” Bragg said to Francesca. “Evan could prove very helpful in this instance.”
    She smiled at him. “I think we shall do just that.”
    “Perhaps there is a displeased client,” Bragg remarked.
    Francesca stiffened.
    He looked at her, pausing for a group of gay, laughing pedestrians, young men and women, all with skates slung over their shoulders. “Well?”
    She hesitated and, oddly, gave Lucy a nervous glance.
    “What is it?” he