Chapter 19 #2
Hart never justified his actions, not to anyone, except of course, recently, to Francesca.
He stared, the urge to crush his foe overwhelming.
But Francesca’s beautiful face swam in his mind, her gaze pleading.
He knew he should explain the situation now, but every fiber of his being went against the very notion.
He had been more than loyal to Francesca, and in fact, he hadn’t even looked at another woman with desire.
His interest had become centered on one woman and one woman only.
“You do not want to go up against me, Andrew,” he warned very softly.
“And I advise you here and now to cease and desist.”
“Do you deny that you are keeping a mistress, for God’s sake?” Andrew demanded, clearly not understanding the magnitude of the mistake he was making.
Hart felt his lips firm in an icy smile.
Cahill had several outstanding loans at the Bank of New York.
Hart knew one director there very well—the man had a penchant for male whores, never mind his wife and children.
He also knew the president of the board.
Several years ago when the man had been on the verge of bankruptcy, Hart had done him the vast favor of shipping his goods at cost, with no payment expected until those goods had sold.
No, Cahill did not want to go up against him, no indeed.
Loans could be called in prematurely, and that would only be the beginning, should he wish to bring Andrew Cahill to heel.
But how clearly he could see Francesca, her blue eyes wide and filled with a desperate plea. She adored her father. He sighed, realizing he should make one final attempt to bring a truce about before he really went after Francesca’s father.
“Sir.” Hart was brisk. “The day I became engaged to your daughter was the day I ceased my affair with Miss Jones. She continued to reside in my house because I promised to take care of her for six months. Although three months remain on our verbal contract, I have actually told her to leave. Francesca knows all of this. That is the truth and I resent the conclusions you have so erroneously drawn.”
Andrew Cahill’s eyebrows lifted. “Do I appear a fool to you? What nonsensical explanation is this!” Then he smiled coldly, showing the ruthless side that had helped him rise from his birth as a farmer’s son to an American millionaire.
“Even if you have just told me the truth, I don’t care.
I have never been in favor of this match and it is off, Hart. I will tell Francesca tonight.”
Hart stared. A terrible tension arose as he faced his newest enemy.
It would not be hard to hack away at the wealth and power Andrew Cahill had made for himself, oh no. It would not be hard to force him to give him what he wanted. Cahill was simply no match for him, he was certain of it.
But he would be going to war against Francesca’s father.
Francesca would be the one made to suffer, caught between father and lover.
Hart was stricken senseless then. It was an extraordinary moment.
He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
Cahill raised an eyebrow. “I see you do not really object.”
Hart said coldly, “You are making a mistake.” He then nodded politely. “I shall see myself out.”
Madison Square was busy on a Saturday afternoon.
As Francesca alighted from Hart’s coach with Joel, she saw a dozen ladies in the small park, with many children skipping about, and a few gentlemen strolling as well.
Every park bench was occupied, but then, it was a perfect spring day, a harbinger for May.
Since speaking so frankly with her sister, her spirits were high and she smiled to herself.
Connie was undoubtedly right—and hadn’t she just received Hart’s invitation to dine from Joel?
They had barely put her plan in action and already there was a good result.
“Raoul, I may be an hour,” Francesca said to the driver. He merely saluted her with one finger; although he wore a very exquisitely made suit, like his employer, he never wore a hat. She touched Joel’s shoulder as they started toward Bragg’s house. “Come, Joel.”
“Can’t I wait here?” he asked with a frown.
“No, you cannot. It’s about time you became friendly with Rick’s girls.” She rapped smartly on the door knocker and Peter answered at once.
She smiled at him. “Is Mrs. Bragg at home?” she asked formally, and then she looked past his big body and saw Leigh Anne in her wheeled chair in the hall.
But that was not all. Leigh Anne wore a coat, as did both Katie and Dot, and Mrs. Flowers was entering from the kitchens, wearing a cape and carrying a wicker basket.
“I see I have called at an inopportune time,” she said. Leigh Anne looked her way and their gazes met.
And for one moment, Francesca saw not the other woman’s beauty, which had always disturbed her, but the cloak of sadness she was enveloped in.
As she gazed at Leigh Anne, she saw that her beauty had somehow dimmed, as if a blazing inner light had gone out.
She was so stunned that she could only stare and it was Leigh Anne who smiled first.
“Francesca, please, come in. How nice of you to call. We were on our way to Central Park for a picnic, but we can delay. Or rather—” she glanced at the girls “—Mrs. Flowers can go on ahead. Peter, after you settle them, can you return for me?”
Before Peter could respond, Francesca hurried forward. “Do not delay on my account,” she said. “I do not want to upset your plans, as it is a stunning day.” She had to lean down to take Leigh Anne’s hands and kiss her cheek. It was very awkward.
“It is so kind of you to call,” Leigh Anne said, a slight flush now adding to her flawless complexion. But once, her skin had glowed like mother-of-pearl. Now it was merely a woman’s pale, unblemished skin.
“Frack!” Dot shouted, clapping her hands together in glee.
As Francesca scooped the impudent toddler up, kissing her cheek, she said, “I must confess that I went to Bellevue several times to visit you, but I lost my courage every time.” She smiled at Leigh Anne as she hugged Dot one more time and replaced her to her feet.
“I doubt you have ever lacked courage for anything,” Leigh Anne said, “and even if you did not come to my room in the end, thank you for thinking of me.”
Francesca did not hesitate. “How could I not?” she asked simply.
Leigh Anne lowered her voice and her eyes. “And this is why my husband has fallen in love with you.”
Francesca started, about to protest. Surely Leigh Anne referred to the past, to that brief moment in time when they had almost fallen in love.
Surely she did not still think a flame burned!
Francesca knelt beside Leigh Anne’s chair and finally her knees touched the floor.
“Your husband loves you,” she said low and urgently.
“And I…” She hesitated, about to blurt out the extent of her feelings for Hart.
“I am very happily engaged to another man, a man I intend to wed.”
Leigh Anne smiled at her. It was soft and sad. “We both know why I came to New York. Bartolla wrote me and claimed that Rick was in love with you. I realized I could not lose him to someone else…now, how I regret my decision.”
Francesca was aghast.
And Leigh Anne flushed. “What I mean is that you two belong together. He does not belong with me.” Suddenly she looked very upset and she turned her head, but not before Francesca saw tears shining in her eyes. “Katie, darling,” she called, extending her hand.
Katie ran to Leigh Anne and instantly hugged her. Leigh Anne buried her face in the child’s soft brown hair. Francesca wanted to cry. She could feel the other woman’s pain and misery and she could also feel how much she loved the girls. She would swear Leigh Anne also loved her husband.
Leigh Anne looked up, smiling now, but her eyes remained moist. “But if I hadn’t returned I would not have my girls, now, would I?”
Francesca remained kneeling in order to be on a level with her and she took her free hand. “There is a saying, and for good reason, not to cry over spilt milk.”
“I am not thinking about my accident. Rick deserves happiness and I cannot give it to him.”
“Why not?” Francesca exclaimed. “He loves you!” She almost added that he had told her so, but she also recalled his despair of late and his evident confusion, and she knew she must not meddle. It was so hard not to do so.
Leigh Anne became pink. “Francesca, dear, please, get off the floor. By now, your knees must ache.”
They did, and Francesca stood, trying to sort matters out. Dot grasped her hand, beaming up at her and Francesca smiled back at the beautiful blond child. Dot demanded, “Park! Park! Go park!”
“Mrs. Flowers will take you, Dot, and I will join you soon,” Leigh Anne said gently but with firm authority.
Dot pouted but did not have a tantrum. Francesca was impressed.
Katie tugged on Leigh Anne’s hand. “Mama, can Francesca come to the park with us?”
Leigh Anne was briefly surprised and then she glanced questioningly at Francesca. “Would you care to join us for a bit? You are more than welcome and I know the girls would love the company—and Joel may come, as well.”
Francesca thought of the interview she wished to have with John Sullivan’s second flatmate. But that could wait. This woman was far more important. “I would love to,” she said. “And Hart’s coach is large enough to accommodate us all.”
Dot shrieked happily, as she never missed a word, and Joel groaned.
“Hey,” Joel said, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Want to fish?”
Katie blinked at him in surprise. Francesca sat beside Leigh Anne on a red plaid blanket, nibbling ham sandwiches, while Dot played industriously with a small doll.
As it was such a beautiful day, the park was filled with families and couples, some picnicking, others merely taking a stroll or a carriage ride.
“I don’t know how to fish,” Katie said, glancing at Leigh Anne.