Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick
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.
‘Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!’
A young woman of about twenty-five or six ran down the broad steps behind her, threw herself into Jack’s arms and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek.
‘Jack! It is you! How absolutely marvellous!’
Sally watched as Jack’s face broke into a broad smile. He bent and picked up the child and spun her around whilst she screamed with excitement and pleasure. There was a strange hollow feeling in Sally’s heart as she looked at the tableau. Seeing Jack looking like that was like looking at an entirely different man. His affection for his sister and niece was so open and uncomplicated. He looked relaxed and happy.
A nursemaid appeared and tried to take the excited child from Jack. She clung on tenaciously, her little fat arms clasped tightly about his neck until Jack tickled her and ruffled her hair, saying that they would play later when she had had nursery tea. Only then would his niece—Sally had by now gathered that her name was Lucy—condescend to let him go and only then with many a backwards glance.
As the child was reluctantly carted off to tea, Sally turned her attention to the young woman who was hanging on Jack’s arm and laughing. So this was Jack’s sister. They both had the same intensely dark eyes and high cheekbones, but the