Brenda Joyce - [Francesca Cahil 03] by Deadly Affairs Page B

was clearly pleased.
    “Oh, do let go of my hand,” she snapped.
    He laughed and released it. “You have nothing to be jealous of,” he said, still smiling, but he seemed thoughtful now. “The friendship we share is far better than any flirtation.”
    Francesca looked at him. “Do you think Connie and I look alike? Many consider us to be nearly identical.”
    “I believe we have discussed this before. And the answer is no, I do not.”
    Francesca felt hurt, but she smiled gamely. “Yes, Connie is far more beautiful. I have always thought so myself.”
    His eyes widened. “You are the more beautiful one, Francesca.”
    She was stunned.
“What?”
    He glanced briefly away. Was he now uncomtortable? And if so, why? “Why are we discussing beauty? And do you, of all women, wished to be judged on your appearance?”
    “No,” she managed, absolutely flustered. He thought her more beautiful than her glamorous and elegant sister?
    “Remember, I am a connoisseur of art—and all fine things. I never judge a painting merely by its color, composition, or skilled execution. There is a subjective element to every judgment.” He briefly met her gaze. “You and your sister share similar external qualities, but you are so vastly different, it would be like comparing the sun and the moon.”
    She stared at his handsome face. “You never cease to surprise me, Calder.”
    “Good.” That apparently pleased him no end. “And now we are back to Calder?”
    She flushed. “Apparently so.” She hesitated. “My sister loves her husband very much.”
    He eyed her. “I am not in the mood for a lecture, Francesca.”
    “But you shall receive one anyway.”
    He sighed, as if an adolescent in no mood for a parental scolding.
    “Calder! She loves Montrose. She has loved him from the moment she set eyes upon him five years ago.”
    “Perhaps,” he murmured, gazing out of his window.
    “Can you not chase someone else?”
    He turned to meet her eyes. “She accepted my invitation to lunch, Francesca.”
    Francesca hesitated. It would not do to tell Calder too much about Connie’s private affairs, and she had the unfortunate feeling that he would use that knowledge, should he have it, to his own perverse advantage. “As your friend, if I ask you to cease and desist, will you?”
    “No.”
    She gaped, in shock.
    “Your sister is an adult. I do believe she can manage her life very well without your interference.”
    Francesca folded her arms, trying not to become infuriated. “She has been through a difficult time recently!”
    “Hmm. How difficult?”
    “As if I shall tell you,” she snapped.
    “You are so protective of Lady Montrose. I wonder why.”
    “She is my sister!” she cried.
    “Temper,” he chided.
    “So you will not do me this one favor? After all I have done for you?”
    He stared. Then, dangerously, “Be careful of the marker you think to call in. You might wish to use it at another time. Once it is gone, why . . .” He shrugged and did not have to say any more.
    “You are truly unscrupulous,” she said, eyes wide.
    “So it is said.”
    “I thought we were friends.”
    “We are. But that does not change my true nature. Remember? I am selfish, not selfless.”
    “Oh, please,” Francesca said, annoyed. “I know you better than you think. You are not completely selfish, and that is that.”
    His mouth quirked as the coach rolled to a stop beforethe grand entrance of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. “I shall debate that point at another time.” He waited patiently for Raoul to climb down from the driver’s seat and open his door. He turned before alighting. “Where shall Raoul drop you and the rowdy?”
    Joel scowled. Francesca touched his arm. “Police headquarters,” she said sweetly.
    Somehow she had known she would get a reaction. His eyes blackened. But his face remained impassive as he said to Raoul, “Three hundred Mulberry.”
    The olive-skinned driver nodded.
    Hart glanced at her, still