Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired

Emotion dried Sally’s throat to cardboard. There was no denying that her sister was a cunning little piece. When Connie had heard of Jack’s involvement she had realised that the money would not be forthcoming and had decided to cut her losses and run away with Bertie anyway. No doubt they would hope that, given time, the family would accept their nuptials.

Jack came across and took the piece of paper from Sally’s hand. ‘Not some new piece of fiction from your sister, Miss Bowes?’ he said. A frown darkened his brow as he scanned the letter. ‘In love with Bertie? What utter sentimental nonsense! I will say this for you and your sister—you are very inventive! I hardly need ask if you were party to this!’

‘Of course I was not,’ Sally said. She slewed around on the seat in order to glare at him. ‘Can you not read, Mr Kestrel? Connie apologises for deceiving me. Or are you so suspicious by nature that you think that we are in this together and that she put that in the letter merely to mislead you?’

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he reread the lines. ‘It matters little one way or the other, I suppose,’ he said dismissively, ‘since you are both as greedy and materialistic as each other.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘So your sister thought to get my uncle to pay her off and thus finance her to run away with my cousin? A cunning plan!’

Sally got slowly to her feet.

‘It’s a damnable disaster,’ she said.

Jack stared at her. ‘But surely you must be pleased, Miss Bowes?’ he said sarcastically. ‘Your sister has managed to catch herself a baron’s heir this time, no mere gentleman like Geoffrey Chavenage or John Pettifer. And even though my uncle may cut Bertie off without a penny, he cannot cancel the entail, and of course, my uncle is very sick and might die at any moment …’ Once again Sally felt the stinging contempt in his gaze. ‘It is a neatly executed swindle, I will give you that.’

‘It’s nothing of the sort,’ Sally said. ‘It is madness. My own experience teaches me that no one should marry unless they truly love one another—’ She broke off at the look of bored cynicism in Jack’s eyes.

‘You really are a piece of work, are you not, Miss Bowes?’ he said. ‘Such high-flown sentiments, such grasping avarice!’

‘Neither Mr Basset nor my sister should be contemplating matrimony with anyone,’ Sally snapped. ‘He is weak, immature and easily led and she is not in love with him, whatever she says! Your uncle will probably recover his health and live to be one hundred and in the meantime they will have no money and will fight like cat and dog and the whole marriage will be a complete fiasco and end in misery or the divorce courts within six months!’ She looked at him. ‘I suggest that you take yourself off to Gretna Green to try to prevent the marriage, Mr Kestrel, and let us hope you are not too late! They can only have had a few hours’ start.’

Jack did not move immediately, as she would have wished. Instead he stood still, watching her with a quizzical expression that disquieted her.

‘It is an excellent idea of yours to stop the wedding,’ he murmured, ‘and I fully intend to go to after the happy couple. There is just one small aspect of the plan that I would change, Miss Bowes.’

‘Well?’ Sally demanded impatiently. ‘What is it?’

‘You,’ Jack said. ‘You are coming with me.’

‘No, I am not!’ Sally was so horrified that she took a hasty step backwards and almost tripped over her skirts. Jack immediately put out a hand to steady her, but she snatched her arm from his grip.

‘You are not in a strong position to argue, Miss Bowes,’ Jack said smoothly. ‘You have just taken two hundred pounds from me.’ He paused. ‘I think that gives me the right to demand what I like from you.’

Sally shook her head. ‘No, it does not. I did not intend—’

‘What, to sell yourself to me?’ Jack raised a brow. ‘Forgive me, but I thought that that was exactly what you intended.’ He slid a hand around the nape of her neck, drawing her closer. ‘Did you think that a couple of nights was all that I wanted?’ he asked, his lips so close to hers that she could feel his breath. ‘Oh, no, Miss Bowes. I want you with me, in my bed, until I tell you otherwise.’ He rubbed his thumb experimentally over her lower lip and his eyes darkened with desire and satisfaction at the gasp she could not quite stifle.

‘I think,’ he added conversationally, ‘that I might decide to claim the ten thousand that your casino owes me, as well. That should take you a long time to pay off.’

Sally gasped and he took advantage to cover her lips with his own in a savage kiss.

‘I’ll be waiting in the car,’ he said, as he let her go. ‘Don’t take too long.’

After he had gone out Sally stalked across the room and slammed the door of Connie’s wardrobe for no more reason than it gave vent to her feelings. She had never been a violent person before she met Jack Kestrel, she thought bitterly. In two short nights he had turned her life upside down. And now, if she cared what happened to Connie, she had little choice other than to go with him. She could imagine what would happen to Connie once Jack caught up with her and Bertie Basset. He would drag Bertie back to London and leave Connie to fend for herself.

You have just taken two hundred pounds from me. I think that gives me the right to demand what I like from you.

For a brief moment, Sally put her head in her hands. Damn him, how she wanted to give the money straight back to him. But she could not, not if she did not want Nell to suffer. The deed was done now and what did it matter? Jack had believed the worst of her before, had thought she and Connie had deliberately set out to fleece Chavenage and Pettifer. His scorn had seared her to the soul so what did it matter now if he thought she was a greedy adventuress who sought to make profit out of their nights of passion? At least she had the money for Nell’s children and that made her fiercely glad.

She went into her own bedroom, drew aside the curtain, and looked down on to the street. The Lanchester was standing outside the main entrance to the club, its silver bodywork gleaming in the sunshine. Sally sighed. She had barely noticed the motor car the previous night, being conscious only of Jack and the need to get back to the club as quickly as possible. Now, as she saw the small crowd that was gathering to admire it, she thought bitterly how typical it was of Jack Kestrel to have the longest, lowest, sleekest, most ostentatious and expensive car in London—and to flaunt it outside her front door.

She pulled a small portmanteau out of the cupboard and started to pack a few necessities, trying to work out how long they might be away for. She knew she had an excellent manager in Dan, who could look after the business of the club on a day-to-day basis. And if they were to take the railway to Scotland, she supposed she would not need to be away for more than a few days. She would be back in plenty of time to put the final touches in place for the grand opening of the Crimson Salon.

‘I want you with me, in my bed, until I tell you otherwise,’ Jack had said. Sally shivered with a mixture of nervousness and sensual awareness. She could not deny that she found Jack devastatingly attractive, but she had never imagined, never dreamed, that it would be like this. That very morning she had acknowledged that she had tumbled helplessly in love with him. His poor opinion of her and callous disregard for her feelings had bruised her, but it had not destroyed the blazing awareness there was between them. She trembled to think of being once again in his bed, but she knew that she would not, could not, succumb to him again.

Resolutely putting the thought from her mind, she took an envelope from the desk, stuffed Jack’s money into it and scribbled Nell’s direction on it. Then she went to join Jack in the car.

Chapter Five

Jack glanced sideways at Sally Bowes as she sat beside him on the deep-red leather seat of the Lanchester. She looked cool, composed and very, very desirable. It took all his self-possession not to lift the saucy black veil she was wearing and kiss her luscious red mouth. She was pin neat in a black-and-white travelling outfit and picture hat that framed her face and Jack admitted to himself that he wanted to rip it all off her and make love to her on the bonnet of the Lanchester. But Alfred, the Blue Parrot doorman, probably would not care for that. He was currently polishing one of the car’s gleaming panels with the sleeve of his uniform and looking as excited as a child with a new toy.

Jack waited whilst Sally handed Alfred an envelope, with a low-voiced instruction that he could not hear. The doorman nodded, stood back and raised a hand in farewell.

‘I do not think we need to go as far as the border,’ Jack said, as the car moved off into the Strand. ‘Bertie has always been a great friend of my sister Charlotte. I suspect they will have gone to Oxfordshire to enlist her support for their marriage.’

‘So are we driving to Oxfordshire rather than travelling by rail?’ Sally asked. ‘That will be a novelty.’ She looked around the car with what Jack could only consider to be disfavour. ‘It is fortunate that we are not aiming for Gretna or Mr Basset and my sister would surely be celebrating their first wedding anniversary before we had even arrived.’

‘The Lanchester does a top speed of forty miles an hour,’ Jack said. He smiled drily. ‘At least you did not weigh her down with baggage.’

Sally turned her head away so that all he could see was her profile. ‘I can imagine that the sort of women you know would be encumbered with vast piles of luggage, Mr Kestrel, but I do not require a great deal.’

‘No,’ Jack said. ‘Only whatever two hundred pounds can buy.’ He waited a moment, but Sally did not rise to the bait, although he saw a hint of colour steal into her face. ‘Where did you send the money?’ he asked.

She jumped. Her hands fluttered nervously before she stilled them in her lap. ‘What do you mean?’

Jack sighed. He knew she was playing for time. ‘I saw you, Sally,’ he said. ‘My guess is that you took the two hundred pounds I gave you, put it in an envelope and gave it directly to your doorman to deliver. Who was it for?’

‘You’re mistaken.’ Sally’s voice was nervous now. ‘That is, I did give Alfred a letter to deliver, but it was not …’ Her voice trailed away. ‘I did not think,’ she added, with bitterness, ‘that the terms of our agreement required me to account to you everything that I do.’

Jack shrugged. He was not even sure why he was asking about the money. On the night after they had met she had indicated that she had pressing debts associated with the club. Perhaps she had sent the cash to pay off the most urgent ones. And it did not matter much anyway, since he would shortly purchase a controlling stake in the Blue Parrot and take her business away from her. He felt a savage satisfaction at the thought.

He looked at her, so pristine and orderly in her smart black-and-white travelling clothes. Her face was as serene and innocent as it had been when he had met her three nights ago. What an immense asset it must be to her to be able to hide so conniving a mind behind so artless an appearance. No wonder he had been taken in by her apparent honesty. Even though he had already been disillusioned with her as a result of the information Churchward had imparted to him, he had still been shocked by her brazen demand for the money.

He felt a wash of anger through his body that his judgement had been so flawed. He would not trust her; would not make the same mistakes again.

And yet he had what he wanted. He should be pleased, because her amorality meant that he could negotiate and gain the one thing he wanted—Sally Bowes as his mistress for as long as he wanted her, until his passion for her was slaked. He was certain that he would be able to persuade her if the price was right. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he tried not to think about taking her to his bed. He was behaving like an ardent youth rather than a man of experience. Later, when the matter of his troublesome cousin and Sally’s scheming sister was settled, he would take Sally to the nearest inn and make love to her until they were both exhausted. Until then he was going to have to contain his desire. It was going to be a long day.

It was late in the afternoon when Jack nosed the Lanchester through the imposing stone gateway of his sister’s home at Dauntsey Park, near Abingdon, and drew to a halt on the gravel sweep in front of the house. Sally looked about her with interest. The place was huge and somewhat Gothic in style, with towers that would not have looked out of place on a Bavarian castle built on a crag, rather than a stately home reclining in the green fields of Oxfordshire. Seeing her incredulity, Jack broke the silence that had existed between them for most of the journey.

‘It is a monstrosity,’ he agreed. ‘Stephen Harrington’s grandfather built it in the middle of last century to incorporate all his favourite architectural styles.’ He sighed. ‘He had rather a lot of different favourites, as you’ll see inside.’

Sally managed a cold smile. She was tired and out of temper. She and Jack had barely spoken for four hours, including an extremely tense stop for lunch at an inn on the river at Windsor. During the latter part of the journey Sally had tried to sleep, but she was too conscious of Jack’s presence in the enclosed space of the car. Besides, the brim of her outrageous hat made no concessions to comfort and she could not rest her head comfortably. She’d had to make do with keeping her face turned away from Jack and now she had a crick in her neck.

She cast a quick look at him from beneath the hat’s brim. His face was set, stern and dark, and, seeing his expression, she felt her pulse trip a beat. His hands moved on the wheel, tanned and strong, and Sally felt a shiver go through her. Despite all that had happened, she could not be indifferent to him. The passion between them had been explosive. Now she did not know what she felt for him, but it was strong and emotional and it filled her throat. She could feel the tension in the car filling the space between them.

As they had drawn closer to Abingdon so Sally’s nerves had started to tighten. Supposing Connie and Bertie were not to be found at Dauntsey Park after all? Then she and Jack would be obliged to head off to Gretna Green, and who knew whether or not that too would be a wild goose chase? She could end up travelling with Jack the length and breadth on the entire country, and all to no avail. And if they did find the eloping pair, Jack would no doubt haul Bertie back to London and leave her with Connie to make shift for themselves as best they could. In her hurried preparations before their departure, Sally had at least remembered to bring sufficient money to ensure she could afford to pay their fare back to town, but she had visions of walking with an inconsolably sobbing Connie along the muddy lanes of Oxfordshire, trying to find the nearest railway station.

Jack opened the driver’s door, then came around to open her door too and Sally wrenched her thoughts away from impending disaster and gave him her hand so he could help her out onto the gravel. His touch was impersonal and as cold as the look he gave her. Sally’s heart shrivelled a little more to think of herself here in a strange place, with a man whose only real feeling for her was a contemptuous desire.

A butler had already thrown open the front door of the house and now a little auburn-haired girl of about four tumbled down the steps and clutched Jack’s trouser leg with a shriek of glee.