Free Deadly Vows by Brenda Joyce

“It’s all right. Joel?” he called. He realized Joel had gone outside. “Did he leave?”
    â€œHe told me he would help the police tonight. I have never been able to keep him from running around as he pleases,” Maggie said with dismay. “I know he wants to find Francesca.”
    Joel had more courage than most grown men, and shrewd wits. Evan wondered if he had run off to try to find Francesca on his own. At that point, he didn’t truly care who found her—as long as she was found.
    The doorbell sounded. Evan could not imagine who would call upon them now. As he and Maggie turned, the doorman opened the door, revealing Bartolla Benevente.
    His tension knew no bounds.
    Maggie flinched.
    His ex-mistress strolled into the front hall, holding a pastry box wrapped in ribbon. She was still dressed in a very daring ruby-red ball gown for the reception that had not taken place. She was a stunning, statuesque woman with auburn hair. Once, her face and figure had driven him mad with desire. Now, he found her distastefully obvious.
    Bartolla smiled slowly at them. “Hello, Evan.” She ignored Maggie, coming forward with the sweeping stride of royalty. In reality, she had no royal blood, although at sixteen she had married a sixty-year-old Italian count. “Has your sister been found?”
    â€œNo, she has not. What are you doing here? This is a very difficult time, Bartolla.”
    â€œI am aware of that! I must say, I never dreamed Francesca would jilt Hart. I have always thought that he wouldbe the one to break her foolish heart—sooner than later.” She laughed, clearly amused by the events of the day. “I do not think Hart will be very happy with your sister when she returns, Evan.”
    â€œYou are wrong. He is smitten. Francesca has gotten herself into trouble, otherwise, there would have been a wedding today. Once she is found, I am certain they will plan another wedding day.” He realized he had come to despise her. He did not know how he would manage a relationship with her after their child was born.
    Bartolla laughed again. “I know Hart very well, my dear, and he loves to hold a grudge. There will never be a wedding now.”
    Evan realized she still hadn’t looked at Maggie even once—as if Maggie were not standing there with them. “I am not going to argue with you. I must get Mrs. Kennedy a cab.”
    â€œPerhaps you should put her on the El, instead.” She smiled. “After all, that is the fare a seamstress can afford.”
    He trembled with anger; Maggie touched his hand. He looked at her and she sent him a silent message with her eyes. She did not want him upset by the countess. He inhaled. “Bartolla, this is not the time to call. My family is very distraught. My mother is not receiving tonight.”
    â€œBalderdash. I have brought cakes, Evan. I am so very fond of Julia and I wished to commiserate with her. Surely she needs a shoulder to cry on now.”
    Evan knew she only wished to gloat.
    Maggie tugged on his hand, clearly wanting to leave. Then Bragg appeared, his strides long and brisk. He and Evan went outside together as Bartolla swept into the other room in search of Julia.
    â€œWhat do you really think?” Evan asked him tersely.
    Bragg hesitated. “I think Francesca has gotten into some trouble. But I am going to find her, Evan. You may count on that.”
    Â 
    S HE WAS AFRAID to get out of the cab.
    Hart’s home was a huge, neo-gothic mansion, consisting mostly of charcoal-hued stone. Recently built, it was a dozen blocks farther uptown from the Cahill home. He had no neighbors as of yet, and his grounds took up half a city block. Lawns and gardens surrounded the house, while a brick stable, servants’ quarters, tennis courts and a large pond were all set farther back on the grounds. A tall, wrought-iron-and-stone fence bounded the entire property.
    Francesca did not move as the