Read Online Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahill 05] by Deadly Caress - Free Book Online Page A

terrible indeed. Circles of fatigue marred her complexion, and grim lines had formed around her mouth, pulling it downward. Her Van Wyck blue eyes were hazy with worry and grief.
    “I could not sleep. I tossed and turned all night. I checked on Evan a dozen times. But he is better today, thank God,” Julia said.
    Francesca went to her and took her into her arms. She held her as if she were the mother and Julia the child—something she had never done before. “It will be all right. Evan is on the mend,” she said, glancing past her mother at Evan and Maggie.
    Hurt and with a black patch over his left eye, Evan still was dashingly handsome. The pretty redhead was offering him a sip of water, holding it to his mouth while supporting his head with one hand. Evan smiled and then grimaced at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy. You really do not have to play nursemaid; I am quite fine this morning.”
    “Hush,” she murmured, setting the glass down on his bedside table and standing. “You are not well yet.” She smiled softly at him, but like Julia, her expression was filled with worry.
    Evan gazed up at her. “You have been too kind. Do you always treat barroom brawlers so graciously?”
    She smiled more naturally now. “Never, as I do not approve of fisticuffs, Mr. Cahill.” She softened even more. “But you and your family have been nothing but kind to me and my children. It is the least that I can do.”
    Evan smiled again and then grunted in pain.
    “I shall leave you all alone,” Maggie said softly, and she swished past them in her little fitted navy suit, which she undoubtedly had made for herself. A mercerized lawn shirtwaist peeked out from behind her suit jacket, starkly white, and the color was wonderful on her. Since coming into theCahill home, Maggie had seemed to age in reverse until she looked her actual age, which was mid- to late twenties. When Francesca had first met her she had been so worn with the ordeal of her life that she could have been twenty or fifty—it had been impossible to tell.
    Francesca wondered once again about her brother. He was a gentleman. Yes, he had kept an actress for a mistress, but he had not a lewd bone in his body—she knew he would never carry on with a housemaid. Maggie was hardly a housemaid, but she was a seamstress—during the day she worked at the Moe Levy Factory. Their social circles did not conjoin or overlap. It was as simple as that.
    And currently Evan was smitten with Bartolla Benevente, a strikingly seductive and widowed countess.
    But Maggie seemed rather drawn to Francesca’s brother. She worried now. Evan was kind and charming, it was his nature, and maybe she had better advise him to be a bit more cautious in his responses to the pretty redhead. Francesca liked Maggie very much and did not want her casually hurt.
    “Thank you for reading me the newspaper, Mrs. Kennedy!” Evan called softly after her.
    Maggie paused at the door. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Cahill.” She smiled at everyone, ducked her head, and left.
    Julia now sat at Evan’s hip. She took his right hand in her own but did not speak.
    “I am fine, Mother,” Evan said, smiling now without a grunt of pain in spite of his cut lower lip.
    “You are not fine. And you are a gentleman who does not brawl, much less in saloons,” Julia said flatly, with distress.
    “I have made another grave mistake. Due, undoubtedly, to my fatally flawed character,” Evan said.
    “Evan, don’t,” Francesca said, knowing he mocked what Andrew seemed to think of him.
    “Is that not what Father is saying?” Evan demanded with a flash of anger. “And all because I will no longer jump through his hoops and be his lackey.”
    “Evan, you must speak more respectfully of your father,” Julia said, remaining distraught.
    “I am sorry, Mother.” He meant it and patted her hand.
    “Your father has been up all night as well. We both regret everything! You must change your mind about leaving the house. I