"I am under pressure, Francesca. That is all." He pulled his hand from hers and looked at his desk. "Low has decided to negotiate with Tammany Hall and the Germans. Parkhurst is leading the elites in a series of media attacks on me. His followers have been raiding brothels and saloons. The newsmen have been eating up the raids. I am in a terrible position."

Her gut told her there was so much more. "How is Leigh Anne?"

He stiffened.

He was having problems with his marriage, she thought, stunned. "Rick?"

He slowly looked up. "Do we have to discuss this?"

"Yes, we do, because...I care, deeply." She was resolved.

He closed his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands. Then he met her unwavering regard. "She hasn't adjusted at all to the paralysis. And the more I try to help her, the more she pushes me away."

"I am sorry," she whispered. When had she last called on his wife? Suddenly she was ashamed. She had called on her once, maybe a month ago, but Leigh Anne had looked well, considering the tragedy that had befallen her. "It will take her time, Rick, to adjust. She loves you."

He stood. "Maybe she loved me once, Francesca. But if there is one thing I am sure of, it is that she doesn't love me now."

She gasped. "You are wrong! She loves you-I have seen it."

"You are a romantic, Francesca. And you are the only reason she returned to our marriage, in case you have for gotten."

She bit her lip and touched his arm. "Maybe so. But you have reconciled, there are the two little girls, and she is your wife. Rick, I can see that you are anguished. You deserve happiness. I am sure this will pass. Every marriage has its hard times."

He made a harsh sound. "Francesca, I am at a loss these days." He pulled his arm back, and she dropped her hand. Bragg was usually the most decisive, committed man she knew.

He suddenly said, "She complains about pain. She is drinking to mask it. She takes laudanum to sleep." He slowly shook his head. "I think she is escaping far more than physical pain."

"I am so sorry," Francesca whispered, horrified, taking his hand again. She had had no idea of what was happening in the Bragg household.

Bragg looked past her.

Francesca tensed, and she turned.

Calder Hart stood in the doorway, elegant and urbane in his coal-black suit, starched white shirt and dark burgundy tie. He slowly smiled at them. "I can see that I am interrupting, but frankly, I don't give a damn."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Sunday, June 29, 1902

Noon

"WHY AM I not surprised to find the two of you holding hands and whispering in one another's ears?" Hart drawled, entering the office.

Francesca's heart exploded in her chest. How long had he been standing there, eavesdropping? "Hart! We weren't holding hands or whispering. We are discussing the case."

"Ah, yes, the case of the missing portrait. And what clues did you both discover last night?" His dark glance was riveted on her and his mirthless smile was carved in stone. Finally, he looked at his brother. "You move quickly, Rick."

He was so mocking. Francesca was filled with alarm. Someone had told Hart that she had been with Rick last night. "I needed help last night. You were not interested in my dilemma-not that I blame you, as you suffered such a shock. But I could hardly go home, with my portrait hanging in some gallery downtown."

He shrugged. "I don't blame you for trying to protect your reputation, Francesca."

She met his unwavering gaze. She hated it when she could not decide what he was really thinking or feeling. "Well, I am grateful for that. This is hardly the first case we have worked on together, Hart."

"No, but it is the first case you have worked on with Rick since we ended things." His smile came and went, coldly.

She shuddered, realizing that nothing had changed. He was not interested in reconciliation.

"And, Francesca? I believe my virtuous brother is correct. Love is not lust. His wife doesn't love him, nor has she ever loved him."

She needed to be alone with Hart, she thought, feeling frantic. They had to continue the discussion she had tried to have with him last night. "Why are you talking about Leigh Anne? What does she have to do with..." She trailed off.

"Us?" he supplied helpfully.

She was rigid with dread. "She doesn't have anything to do with our relationship."

"Really?" he asked, his gaze hardening. "In my estimation, my brother is available now."

She had never known such tension. Bragg had nothing to do with their estrangement.

Rick moved between them. "Why are you here, causing discord, when so much is at stake? As if I do not know! You intend to hurt Francesca-to cause her as much pain as possible. As if you did not hurt her enough last night."

Hart smiled. "I was the one who was jilted in front of three hundred guests."

"I was locked up," she tried. "I would never hurt you, not on purpose."

It was as if neither brother had heard her. "I am not available," Bragg retorted. "My wife is an invalid, or have you forgotten?"

"Ah, how could I forget? When you glory in your martyrdom." His smile flitted across his face again, but his hard stare returned to Francesca. "A martyr and a saint. How impossibly perfect."

She bit her lip, wringing her hands. Why did he have to presume that she would find her way back to Rick? "Hart, I wanted to stop by this morning. I desperately wished to talk to you, to tell you again how sorry I am! If I hurt you-"

He cut her off. "You did not. Desperation is not becoming, my dear."

It was a terrible blow. "Can we speak privately? There is no reason for this animosity. I never meant to jilt you, and you must surely know it."

His eyes glittered. "Do you really want to go down that road with me again? Nothing has changed for me, Francesca, since we last spoke."

She trembled. He could not have been clearer. "Then why are you here?" she somehow managed to say. "Have I hurt you so much that you seek to hurt me in return?"

Hart's dark eyes blackened. "No-I am not here to hurt you."

"She is your fiancee," Rick said harshly. Hart simply kept staring at her and she stared helplessly back. "You owe her a private moment."

Hart gave him a bored look. "She was my fiancee. I believe I owe her very little at the moment."

Francesca turned. He hadn't softened at all; he was even more set against her now. He might even hate her. She bumped into Bragg, who instantly steadied her. She realized that she was fighting tears. She must not cry now.

I abhor women who cry.

As she fought for self-control, Rick handed her a handkerchief. Hart made a mocking sound.

"I'm fine," Francesca lied, her back to Hart.

"You are not fine." Bragg turned to face his brother. "I don't know why you are here, so state your business and get out-unless you can behave in a civil manner."

Hart shook his head, staring at them. "How fortunate it is that the two of you are always thrown together by the criminal elements in this city. Can I assume you were crime-solving before my ex-fiancee decided to console you on the matter of your estrangement from your wife?"

Did he really think she would run to Rick now? Less than twenty-four hours ago, they had been on the verge of marriage. The night before that, they'd shared a candlelit supper in his home, and afterward she had been in his arms. "Please stop. You are continuing to hurt me, even if it is not deliberate, and I do not deserve it." His gaze narrowed. She barreled on. "Even if this impasse of ours is permanent-and I refuse to believe that!-I will always undertake criminal investigations. It has become my passion, as well as my profession. One day, Rick will not be police commissioner, but I will still be hard at work, helping victims in need." She inhaled. "Last night, when you dismissed me, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I hardly had a choice! I am not going to allow this thief to ruin me and my family. You chose to turn your back on me when I needed your help, so I turned to Rick." His expression didn't change. "This is not a romantic encounter, Hart. We were discussing the case. I have a lot to lose." She paused before adding, "Rick would never turn his back on me. But you already know that."

He darkened. "Yes," he said. "My brother would never abandon you, no matter the circumstance. He is not merely noble but loyal. I am sure that the two of you will uncover and apprehend the current culprit, sooner than later. You always do." His mouth twisted.

Why was he there if he was still so angry with her? She could only conclude, as she had yesterday, that he was terribly hurt and his cruelty and sarcasm were his means of covering up that anguish.

She did not want to think about what it meant if she was wrong.

Just then, she missed the powerful ally he had once been-the safest harbor she had ever known-a man who would never allow anyone or anything to hurt her. "Can we please manage a private discussion?"

He folded his arms across his chest. The moment he did so, she knew he was acquiescing. "Five minutes," he said. "But I must warn you, I refuse to entertain any entreaties from you. We are done."

Bragg choked. Francesca fought the rush of tears. "I want to speak with you, not beg you for forgiveness. Nor will I grovel."

"Good," he said flatly. "As I am not in a forgiving mood, and groveling is worse than tears."

"I am going down the hall to check on a file," Bragg said. He glanced at Francesca with obvious concern. She wanted to send him a small, reassuring smile but she simply couldn't.

He walked out.

A terrible silence fell.

Francesca walked past Hart to close the office door, acutely aware of his powerful presence. Then, slowly, she turned. "I will always love you."

"Don't."

She bit her lip. "Why can't I profess my feelings? I have already realized that if you never loved me-as you claimed yesterday-then it is truly over. I would never chase you, Hart. I would never beg for your affections. However, even if our past relationship was a lie and if you never loved me and it is over, I will still be your friend."

His eyes widened. Finally, she had an honest reaction from him.

"You see, I can still see the good in you," she said softly.

"Don't you dare!" he exploded, turning dark with anger.

She went still. She watched him flush and instantly rein in his temper. She fought her own wildly racing pulse. He was not immune to her or her feelings, she thought, at once relieved and thrilled. Her faith in him had the ability to arouse him! Very softly, she said, "And if you did love me, then this will pass, and when you come to your senses and realize I was not at fault yesterday, I will receive you with open arms."

His expression tightened. "I have come to my senses. I came to my senses when I realized I was a fool to consider marrying you."

She stared. "Because I am such an eccentric woman? One you lust for but do not love?"

"No, Francesca, because you are genuinely honest, with a heart of gold and enough passion and ambition for a dozen men-because your heart is pure. We never suited, my dear."

"What on earth does that mean? We suit very well!" she cried.

He spoke very softly then. "How often have I said that you deserve Rick, or someone like him? Our estrangement is for the best. Yes, yesterday I was angry. You left me standing at the altar in front of most of New York society. It was rather unpleasant-it was shocking. But I have had time to think about it. I am the wrong man for you."

"I do believe that is my decision!" she cried. "You are the perfect man for me!"

"My decision is final. You can do better, and I have little doubt that you will." His smile was as twisted as earlier.

"My God, are you once again trying to protect me?"

His stare hardened. "I am not being noble, so do not even think it."

"If you are claiming that you are not good enough for me and using yesterday as an excuse to break it off with me on the grounds that I can do better, then I will most certainly think you are being noble!"

He laughed abruptly, mockingly. "I might be using yesterday as an excuse, but you certainly used that note as an excuse to avoid marriage to me, my dear."

She froze. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

He couldn't possibly believe what he had just said. "I couldn't wait to take our vows! I couldn't wait to walk down that aisle as your bride and then return up the aisle as your wife!"

"You knew deep in your heart that I am your second choice and when the note arrived, you seized the opportunity to race off chasing ghosts, Francesca-avoiding marriage to me."

She cried out. Did he actually think she had subconsciously used that invitation as a means of escaping marriage?

"Have you truly forgotten that, when we first met, you were in love with my brother, and mine was the shoulder you cried upon?" he asked very softly. His black gaze was piercing.

She trembled. Of course she hadn't forgotten, but she would not say so. "I love you."

One dark brow slashed upward. "I truly believe Rick's marriage is doomed. The two of you are perfectly matched-everyone thinks so. Even I think so."

"Stop it!" she gasped, her heart beating so wildly she felt faint. "Why are you doing this?"