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

dwarfed the petite artist.
    Bragg moved to her. “I am terribly sorry about this, Sarah,” he said softly.
    She nodded, fighting to keep her composure.
    Bragg nodded at Bartolla politely. She smiled at him. “Good morning, Commissioner.” She was a natural flirt, but Bragg had never seemed to notice. “Hullo, Francesca. I heard you were here earlier. How is your hand?”
    Francesca kissed her cheek. “Much better, thank you.” She had once thought to dislike Bartolla, but it had proved impossible, as she was a very daring and unusual woman, who courageously defied convention—in the most public manner. However, she had walked in on Francesca and Bragg while they were passionately entwined on the sofa at the Channing ball. She had assured Francesca that her secret was safe. Francesca was face-to-face with the other woman for the first time since that night. It was impossible to decide whether she could trust Bartolla or not. Just then, it was as if Bartolla had never caught her in a compromising position. Could she have forgotten?

    Perhaps, Francesca thought, the incident was insignificant to her, as she was a wealthy widow and a woman of the world.
    The notion was a comforting one.
    However, Francesca had to stare at the auburn-haired woman. She and Leigh Anne Bragg were friends.
    The countess had told her so.
    But surely Bartolla had not said anything to Leigh Anne, as she was also Francesca’s friend.
    “Sarah, Bartolla, this is Bragg’s sister, Lucy Savage. Bartolla is Sarah’s cousin and an Italian countess,” Francesca added, feeling rather as if she had been struck by an object right between the eyes.
    At the Channing ball, Bragg had commented that Bartolla had not liked the attention Francesca was receiving. He had also said that she was not really a friend.
    Francesca realized she must speak with the other woman and attempt to draw her carefully out.
    Now Lucy smiled at Sarah, but when she turned to Bartolla her expression changed, closing instantly. Bartolla’s smile had also vanished. The two women, both tall, both voluptuous, both impossibly beautiful, the one red-haired, the other auburn, looked at each other as if they had become two female cats, claws out, fur on end, fangs apparent. A silence fell.
    Francesca looked from Lucy’s cool expression to Bartolla’s even colder one and thought, My God, they are both so stunningly beautiful, and they cannot stand each other because of it. It was instant sheer dislike, a mutual hatred at first sight.
    “Sarah? Have you had any new thoughts on the vandalism of your studio?” Bragg cut into the tension quietly.
    Sarah shook her head. “I keep thinking about it. My mind seems to be going round and round in circles. I think of all the servants here, but I find it hard to believe that I have so offended someone in this house that he or she would take such extreme action against me. But now I also keep recalling the reception I have been receiving … since my engagement.
Before the engagement, I was a bit like wallpaper. People would glance at me and then it was as if I were not even present. Now ladies are falling all over themselves to congratulate me on my good fortune, include me in their conversation, and invite me to too many events to consider. I am beginning to wonder,” Sarah said.
    Bartolla moved to stand beside her. “She makes no demands. I have never seen anything like it. She fetches her own tea, her own mail; she forgets to ask for help when she is dressing; she gives her clothes to the housemaids … . She is always kind; she never loses her temper. The staff adore her, Commissioner.”
    But Francesca moved to Sarah and slid her arm around her small shoulders. “You wonder what?” she asked softly.
    Sarah met her gaze. “It has been unreal. Surreal. A sea of smiles, stretched wide—and tight. Perhaps I am overwrought now, but I wonder if those smiles are merely that, a stretching of the mouth, a purely physical act, that has nothing