Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [142]
“Not really. As a matter of fact, I’m here to get married. That is, if she’ll have me. She’s turned me down so many times already, I can never be sure.”
Harry laughed. “You’re lucky. The woman I asked accepted and it cost me a fortune. And she was an Englishwoman.” He glanced interestedly at Edward. “Is this a San Francisco lady you’re marrying?”
Edward beamed. “Oddly enough, she has the same name as you. Maybe you know her? Francesca Harrison?”
Harry stared silently at him. He put his empty glass carefully on the table. He smiled the wide self-satisfied smile of the Cheshire cat and said, “That’s not surprising at all, Stratton, since the woman in question happens to be my sister.” Edward’s expression changed to surprise as Harry continued. “I think perhaps you had better tell me what you know about her, and then allow me to tell you the truth.”
“The truth?”
Harry lifted a warning hand. “Believe me, Stratton, there are things about Francesca you may never have suspected. Let me fill you in on a few facts.”
Edward sat silently while Harry talked; at first he thought he’d met a crazy man, but looking at him—a handsome, well set-up, prosperous fellow, he knew it wasn’t so. What Harrison was saying sounded plausible, yet he still could not believe he was talking about Francesca.
Edward stared numbly as Harry concluded triumphantly, “It’s the truth, Stratton. Ask anyone in this club what they know of my sister—they’ll only confirm what I say. My father kept her locked up when she was a child because even then she did crazy things. She was uncontrollable, but he couldn’t bear to send her away to the state asylum. And she repaid him by flaunting her lover in front of him—and now this bastard child.” He leaned closer to Edward, staring into his eyes. “Believe me, you are better off without her. She’ll ruin you and your family, Stratton, mark my words.”
A vision of Francesca’s innocent blue eyes swam in Edward’s mind and he asked himself despairingly if they could mask the wickedness he had just heard described. He thought of his innocent children, home at Strattons. He was a conservative man and he knew he could never risk their happiness and security for his own desires. Disillusioned, he pushed back his chair and stood up. He looked sadly at Harry and said, “Thank you, sir, for your information.” And then he turned and walked to the door.
Harry watched him go, still wearing his Cheshire cat smile, savoring his first sweet taste of revenge. He was looking at a broken man.
Francie knew she was looking her best. It wasn’t just her wonderful trailing midnight-blue velvet dress, nor the rose in her pale shining hair, it was the inner happy glow that lit her heart-shaped face. She seemed to bubble with suppressed excitement as she nervously checked and rechecked the elegantly set table for two in her sitting room, smoothing the damask cloth yet again, straightening the silverware and adjusting the full-blown cream roses in the crystal bowl at the center. A fire hummed and crackled in the grate, the tall candles were lit in the fluted silver candlesticks, adding their own soft glow and deepening the color of her eyes until they almost seemed to match her velvet dress.
Everything was going as planned; Ollie was in bed, Annie was out, and Lai Tsin was at his office. It was five minutes to eight and in a little while Edward would be here. She ran to the window, peeking through the curtain and laughing at her own eagerness. After all these months of putting him off it was ridiculous that she couldn’t bear to wait another five minutes to see him. She walked back to the fire and stood with her back to it, unwilling to sit down lest she crease her dress. She wanted to look perfect for him.
The clock outside struck eight at last and she held her breath, waiting for the bell to ring; Edward was always punctual.
But the bell didn’t ring and after a while she walked to the window and pulled back the curtain again, searching amongst the passersby for his familiar figure, telling herself he must have been delayed on business.