Chapter 26 #3
He quietly closed the front door. He warmed, smiling, as he heard Leigh Anne explaining subtraction to Katie.
He gathered that they were in the salon at the end of the short corridor.
He walked swiftly past the dining room and, even as certain as he was that she did not want his flowers or him, even though he continued to feel like an intruder whenever he and his wife were in the same room, he could not help but be eager to glimpse them.
He hoped it would not always be this way, to be so hopeful and so hurt, so eager and so filled with dread.
He paused on the room’s threshold. Leigh Anne wore a silvery-gray dress with a pearl and diamond necklace, her hair curled and swept back and up.
She sat in her wheeled chair beside Katie, who was on an ottoman, a practice book on her lap.
He thought about how much they appeared to be mother and daughter.
Then he realized that in the past few months they had become mother and daughter.
“I still don’t understand,” Katie said in frustration.
Leigh Anne sighed, reaching for her hand. “I will go to school tomorrow and speak with your teacher, dear.”
Bragg knew the moment she became aware of his presence. He tried to smile.
She turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and then landed on the bouquet he held, widening.
“Hello,” he said cheerfully, although it was forced. He strode in, kissed her cheek, and then kissed Katie as well. “Perhaps I can help with that problem,” he said to Katie.
“I don’t like math,” she said softly. “And I can’t get the right answer!” Katie stood and rushed from the room.
He faced Leigh Anne, who was staring at him. He realized he was crushing the stems in the bouquet, and he eased his grip. He forced another smile. “We have the Slasher in custody,” he said. “He was caught in the act, with the murder weapon, and he has confessed.”
Leigh Anne looked at the flowers again as if she had never before seen roses. Then she tore her glance away, lifting it to his. “Thank God,” she said.
He extended the bouquet. “These are for you.”
She stared at him in obvious dismay. Finally she took the bouquet, looking away, and murmured, “Thank you.”
He bent so their faces were level; surprised, she turned her face toward him. Their gazes met.
“I know how hard this is for you,” he said quietly.
“I know it cannot be easy to have lost the use of your leg, to be confined to a wheelchair, to be reliant now on the strong arms of your nurse, Peter, and myself to perform activities that were once taken for granted. I know how distressing this is and how difficult it is for you to accept another kind of life.”
“No,” she said. “You have no idea what this is like.”
“I do,” he said, clasping her shoulder. She flinched. “I see how unhappy you are every time I look at you.”
She turned away.
“Don’t,” he said, taking her chin and making her face him. “I want to help.”
“You can’t help,” she said, her eyes shining. “I don’t want you to help!” A tear fell. “Why can’t you understand that?”
“I am helping whether you want me to or not. I am going to be here with you through this dark period in your life. It won’t always be this way, Leigh Anne,” he said, determined to believe it.
“Why are you doing this?” she cried. “Why won’t you accept the fact that everything has changed?”
“Nothing has changed,” he argued, anguished. “You are still my wife, and you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.”
She stared in surprised dismay.
“I am not giving up,” he said flatly. And he rose to his full height.
She was still holding the bouquet he had given her. She did not look up. “Then you are a fool,” she said.
Francesca took the liberty of pouring two glasses of scotch, adding a single cube of ice to each one and carrying them to the low occasional table in front of the sofa in Hart’s library.
A servant had stoked a small fire in the hearth and she sat down, taking a sip of her scotch. She smiled to herself.
Culhane had confessed and the case was closed.
There would be no more tragic murders. Apparently, Lord Randolph was head over heels in love with Gwen, and if she was any judge of human nature, both Evan and Maggie were following in their footsteps.
Her smile increased. But they were well into a very pleasant spring, so love was in the air, was it not?
And she was waiting for her fiancé to come home—the city’s most attractive, charismatic and dangerously seductive bachelor.
He had said he wanted to marry her immediately.
She intended to hold him to his words, yes she did. How lucky could one woman be?
“Feeling pleased with yourself, darling?” Hart asked, stepping into the room.
Francesca stood, smiling. “I must admit, I do rather feel like the cat who had all the cream.”
Hart was smiling as he took her into the circle of his arms. “That was a case well solved, darling.”
She flushed, aware that she loved receiving his praise. “I had the best help an amateur sleuth could have,” she said archly.
His long, lean fingers toyed with the hair at her nape and his hazel eyes held hers, his gaze searching.
Her smile faltered. “What is it? I was referring to you, Calder. You were very helpful on this case.”
“I know.” He released her and handed her a scotch, taking one glass for himself.
She sensed the devil in him now. “Please don’t brood,” she said, meaning it.
“How can I brood when I am with you?” he swiftly returned.
But he was brooding now. “What dark thoughts are afflicting you now?” She put her drink down, taking his hand.
He drank and then set his own glass aside. “I meant what I said earlier. I want to marry immediately.”
She bit her lip so she would not smile, absolutely thrilled. “That is fine with me,” she managed to say.
He smiled. “Darling, I can tell you want to shout in glee, so please, feel free.”
Francesca grinned. “When?” she asked eagerly. “I mean, should we actually elope? I know we had decided against it—and Mama would never forgive me. Or we could have a very small ceremony, just with family. What do you think?”
He tipped up her chin. “I hate coming between you and your father, Francesca,” he said quietly. “I know you adore Andrew. I hate forcing you to make a choice between him and myself.”
Her smile vanished. “Calder, it’s too late. I have already made that choice—I have already chosen you—and I am not retracting it.”
He pulled her close. “If I were selfless and noble, I would back off, find patience and somehow persuade your father to our cause. But I am not selfless or noble and I am savagely glad that you have chosen a life with me. I only hope you will never have any regrets.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Calder, I intend to bring the brunt of the entire family to bear on Papa. I will be very surprised if he does not cave in. He is no match for me, Mama and Connie, not when we unite against him.”
“No man could be a match for the three of you,” he said wryly. “He loves you. And he also respects your intellect. Perhaps he will come around before the fact, and not after it.”
“He will,” she said with genuine confidence. “I am sure of it. I will begin planning the wedding tomorrow, if that is all right with you. I will speak with Mama and Connie and we will decide on a date. I still prefer June.”
He nodded with a smile. “That is fine.”
She knew he had something else on his mind. “Calder?”
“There’s something I want to say,” he said, very seriously now.
She froze, and then her heart leaped with excitement. She nodded, filled with anticipation. Would he finally tell her that he loved her? She crossed her fingers behind her back. “Please.”
He clasped her shoulders, smiling a little. His eyes had become impossibly tender. “The moment I first met you, I knew you were the most unique woman I had ever encountered.”
She began to smile and opened her mouth to comment.
He touched a finger to her lips. “Let me speak.”
She nodded, biting down hard to restrain herself.
His navy eyes, flecked with gold, wandered over her face.
“I knew that the bluestocking had an amazing intellect, the sleuth more courage and determination than any one individual had a right to bear, and the romantic more hope and faith than any one man could possibly deserve. I knew you were as eccentric as myself, if not more so. And I knew that all of these aliases shielded a woman of extreme passion. I knew all of this, Francesca, immediately, and shortly after, I knew you were the right woman for me.” He smiled a little at her.
“I knew, somehow, thoroughly and completely, that we would suit beyond all expectation.”
She was finding it difficult to breathe. Was Hart really admitting all of this?
“But there was one thing I did not know,” he said softly, cupping her face in his hands. His eyes were shining with emotion—with tears.
“What?” she managed to say, her heart beating madly. Her own emotion seemed to be choking her.
“I didn’t know that I was falling in love with you,” he said, his gaze holding hers.
She couldn’t speak. Tears welled in her eyes, as well, and with them, there was more love than any woman could possibly feel.
He made a harsh sound. His eyes continuing to shine from the depth of his emotion he pulled her against his chest. “Francesca, I am smitten,” he whispered.
She held him hard, closing her eyes, overcome with so much love and so much joy. “So am I,” she said.