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

‘And your sister Connie,’ Charley prompted, ‘the one who has eloped with my cousin …’

‘Yes, Connie.’ Sally shook her head. ‘Well, I suppose one could say that Connie goes her own way. She works in my nightclub in the Strand, Mrs Harrington.’ She looked a little defiant. ‘You can see now why both Lord Basset and your brother consider her an unsuitable match for Bertie and think me a bad influence into the bargain.’

‘Oh, Uncle Toby always was a stuffed shirt,’ Charlotte said, waving a hand around. ‘But I would have thought better of Jack.’ She frowned. ‘He is no snob.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sally said with a sigh, ‘if he believed Connie’s regard was sincere he might be more sympathetic. But …’ she met Charley’s eyes very honestly ‘… I think he believes her a fortune hunter. Certainly her behaviour has painted her in that light so it is no great wonder.’

‘Well,’ Charley said indignantly, ‘that is no reason to judge you in the same way, Miss Bowes, and I will tell Jack so! He can be odiously callous and cutting at times. It is one of his worst faults—though there are plenty of others to choose from!’ She smiled at Sally. ‘Please do call me Charley, Miss Bowes, and I hope I may call you Sally? I am not one to stand on formality.’

‘Of course,’ Sally said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Jack’s sister was rather like a force of nature and quite unstoppable. ‘I would be delighted.’

‘That is settled, then,’ Charley said. She gave the butler a bright smile as he entered with the tea tray. ‘Thank you, Patterson. And would you please be so good as to ask Mrs Bell to prepare two further bedrooms? Mr Kestrel and Miss Bowes will be staying tonight.’

‘I admire your confidence,’ Sally said.

Charley laughed. She stirred the tea vigorously, splashing a fair quantity on to the tray and the plate of shortbread biscuits. The butler looked pained but resigned, as though such incidents occurred each day. One of the black Labradors came over to tidy up the damp biscuits.

‘Tell me more about your sister Connie,’ Charley said, as Patterson went out. ‘If she is strong-minded, she could be just what Bertie needs. I think that he would benefit greatly from marrying a strong and clever woman. He is quite weak and easily led and needs firm guidance, like so many men.’

Sally smiled to think of Stephen Harrington being receptive to firm guidance. He hardly struck her as that sort of man.

‘You are very generous, Charley,’ she said, ‘but I do not think that Connie is the right woman for Mr Basset.’ She thought about the blackmail and sighed. ‘Your brother is no doubt right in his judgement. I myself suspect that Connie is merely hunting a fortune.’

‘Well, we shall see,’ Charley said. Her chin jutted pugnaciously. ‘If Bertie and Connie are genuinely in love, then I for one shall support them all I can! At the least they should be left to sort the matter out themselves. I cannot understand why Jack has dragged you into this farrago, Sally.’

‘I did rather drag myself,’ Sally admitted. ‘I wanted to make sure that Connie was safe and well.’

‘I suppose that Jack is acting as Uncle Toby’s agent in all this,’ Charley said, passing Sally her teacup, ‘and has become all haughty about the family honour.’ Her face broke into a mischievous smile. ‘How rich is that, and Jack with the reputation he has! I shall tell him not to be so pompous!’ She peered closely at Sally. ‘I do hope that he has not upset you too much, Miss Bowes? He can be frightfully rude.’

‘Indeed he can,’ Sally said. She fidgeted with her teaspoon. ‘But I can look after myself.’

‘Well, I am not sure that you can, with Jack,’ Charley exclaimed. ‘He is so very high-handed. Sometimes I think he was born in the wrong century. He behaves like some sort of eighteenth-century rake—’ She stopped, eyes widening, as the hot colour burned Sally’s cheeks. ‘Oh! Have I said something tactless? I do apologise!’

‘No,’ Sally said, ‘no, of course not.’ New friend or not, she thought, there was no possible way she could discuss Jack’s rakish tendencies with his sister.

Charley handed her a plate of tiny cucumber sandwiches and apple and walnut cake. Sally ate hungrily, suddenly becoming aware just how tired and ravenous she was. She had not been able to eat much at lunch. Jack’s presence had made her too nervous.

‘Now,’ Charley said, ‘I have a plan. It is foolish for you and Jack to go charging off to Gretna Green tonight—’ a dimple dented her cheek ‘—particularly in the Lanchester, which may be a splendid vehicle, for all I know, but would take days to reach Birmingham, let alone Gretna! I suggest that I send a footman to bring your cases in and then an overnight stay will be a fait accompli. I will tell Jack it is all decided.’

As Sally started to protest, she waved her comments aside. ‘I can lend you something to wear for dinner if you require it, Sally, so you need not regard that as a problem. And I will talk Jack around. See if I don’t!’

Sally looked down at her hands. ‘You are very kind, Charley, but I do not think Mr Kestrel wishes me …’ She paused, trying to find the right words. ‘I do not wish to impose on your family party. Mr Kestrel and I are the slightest of acquaintances—’

‘So you said earlier.’ Charlotte raised a disbelieving brow. ‘I thought quite otherwise when I saw the way that Jack was watching you. And as for the way he looked at Gregory Holt when Greg was holding your hand … Why, I half-expected him to challenge Greg to a duel over you, and they have known one another for years. I was never more astonished in my life!’

A wave of colour washed into Sally’s face. ‘Lord Holt is an old friend of my family,’ she said carefully, ‘and so no doubt he feels he has some licence as an old acquaintance.’

‘Well, I don’t think Jack thought so,’ Charley said blithely. ‘I thought he was going to punch him!’

‘I assure you, you are quite mistaken,’ Sally said hurriedly. ‘Mr Kestrel and I have clashed very badly over this matter of the elopement and there truly is very little between us but hostility. It can only be a matter of indifference to him that Lord Holt is a friend of mine.’

‘If you say so,’ Charlotte said, with patent disbelief. ‘And if you truly do not like Jack very much, then I cannot blame you. He is dreadfully arrogant and overbearing. I will make sure to sit you a long way away from each other at dinner.’ She grabbed Sally’s hand. ‘Oh, do stay, Sally! The weekend will be so much more fun if you do! I like you so much!’

In the face of such artless friendship Sally felt unable to refuse. ‘I am happy to stay overnight, Charley,’ she said smiling, ‘but then Mr Kestrel and I must work out what best to do to retrieve Bertie and Connie. And,’ she added on a note of warning, ‘I think you might have a difficult job persuading Mr Kestrel to stay. As soon as you mentioned the words Great-Aunt Ottoline, I saw him turn pale.’

Charley giggled. ‘Oh, Aunt Otto dotes on Jack. Mind you, she does have a determination to marry him off and she is frightfully strong-minded.’

‘Show me a member of your family who isn’t,’ Sally murmured.

They went out into the hall. Jack and Stephen Harrington were emerging from the library. Sally thought that Jack looked slightly less angry than when she had last seen him, but as soon as his gaze fell on her he frowned.

‘Jack,’ Charlotte began, ‘it is all decided. You are to stay here tonight.’

‘No,’ Jack said.

That, Sally thought, was quite unequivocal. He did not want her mingling with his family and friends. Equally she was sure that he wanted to keep the matter of Bertie’s indiscretion with Connie from becoming common knowledge, especially if the situation could yet be salvaged.

‘If you are quite restored, Miss Bowes,’ Jack added coldly, ‘we will continue our journey.’

‘Jack—’ Charley said again, but surprisingly fell silent as Stephen shook his head slightly. There was an awkward pause, broken by the sound of an imperious knocking at the front door. A footman hurried to open it. Patterson, who had evidently been distracted eavesdropping on the scene in the hall, adjusted his gloves and rushed forward to announce the new arrival.

‘Lady Ottoline Kestrel!’ he announced.

Sally saw Jack go rigid. There was a look of perfect horror on his face. ‘I thought that you told me Great-Aunt Otto was arriving later,’ he hissed at Charlotte, out of the corner of his mouth.

‘This is later!’ Charlotte hissed back. ‘It’s not my fault! Don’t upset her, Jack. She is very frail these days!’

‘She doesn’t look very frail to me,’ Jack said grimly.

Sally looked at the tiny, bejewelled figure of Lady Ottoline Kestrel as her personal maid helped her into the hall. Although she was as thin and delicate as a little bird, and stiff in her movements, there was something strong and indomitable about her. Her eyes, the same dark brown as Jack and his sister, were sharp and piercingly alive. Her face was sunk in wrinkles, but beneath them Sally thought that she could see the same elegant bone structure that Charlotte possessed. Lady Ottoline must have been a beauty in her youth. Now she was simply terrifying and it was impossible to recognise the winsome girl Sally had seen in the portrait at the Wallace Collection. A huge hat adorned with ostrich and pheasant feathers nodded on Lady Ottoline’s brow and her coat was trimmed with matching plumes.

‘Good gracious, how many birds must have died in Aunt Otto’s service!’ Charley whispered irreverently. She hurried forward, raising her voice. ‘Great-Aunt Otto! How lovely to see you!’

‘Humph,’ Lady Ottoline said, inclining her cheek regally for her great-niece’s kiss, ‘how are you, Charlotte? And is that your dreadful modern contraption on the gravel outside, Jack? Didn’t realise you were going to be here, though I suppose it is good to see you again, boy. Couldn’t get the carriage up to the door though, with that machine there—it scared the horses!’

‘I do apologise,’ Jack said, following his sister’s lead in bending to kiss their great-aunt. ‘I will move it at once.’

‘See you do,’ Lady Ottoline said. ‘You can bring my bags in whilst you’re at it. Severs is too old to carry my luggage.’

Sally thought that if the coachman was as ancient as the maid, it was surprising they managed to totter anywhere at all. But Lady Ottoline, for all her physical frailty, was as sharp as a needle. Her piercing dark gaze was even now pinning Sally herself to the spot.

‘And this is?’ Her tone was icy.

Jack and Charlotte exchanged a look.

‘Good afternoon, your ladyship,’ Sally said. ‘My name is Sally Bowes—’

‘And she is my fiancée,’ Jack finished. He grabbed Sally’s hand and gripped it hard, speaking over the outraged squeak of pain and denial that she made.