Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick
soul.
‘Hello, Charley!’ Jack said. ‘How are you?’
‘All the better for seeing you,’ Charlotte Harrington said, beaming. ‘Oh, this is too, too splendid, Jack darling! I was so sure that you would have forgotten!’
There was a moment of absolute silence, during which Sally registered the surprise and uncertainty on Jack’s face and the fact that he was too slow to hide it, and then Charlotte said accusingly,
‘You did forget, didn’t you?’
‘Charley—’ Jack began, but his sister was already smiling again.
‘Never mind!’ she said. ‘You are here anyway. We are having a Saturday-to-Monday party in honour of Great-Aunt Ottoline’s birthday—’
‘Great-Aunt Ottoline! She is here too?’ Now there was something approaching fear in Jack’s voice and Sally bit her lip to stop the smile that was coming. It seemed that in his haste to track Bertie down, Jack had walked straight into a family party he had been invited to join, but had forgotten about entirely. To see his discomfiture was interesting when he had appeared to be a man who could take most things in his stride. His Great-Aunt Ottoline must be fearsome indeed, Sally thought.
‘Aunt Otto has not arrived yet. We expect her in time for dinner.’ Charley was frowning at her brother’s slowness. ‘I told you—it is her party! Papa and Cousin Buffy may also be attending—I am not sure yet.’
‘Papa! Buffy?’ Jack’s tone was failing. Sally’s enjoyment of his discomposure was growing in commensurate leaps and bounds. She had never seen Jack so at a disadvantage in their short acquaintance and it was rather gratifying.
‘Hello!’ Charley said suddenly, sticking out her hand and shaking Sally’s own with great enthusiasm. ‘I do apologise—I have been very remiss in greeting you. I was so excited to see Jack, you see, as was Lucy. I am sorry!’ She paused expectantly and after a moment Jack said, with cold courtesy, ‘Charley, this is Miss Sally Bowes. Miss Bowes, my sister Mrs Harrington.’
‘Splendid to meet you!’ Jack’s sister said, beaming. ‘Only fancy Jack bringing you to a family party, Miss Bowes! I assure you, that has never happened before.’
‘How do you do, Mrs Harrington?’ Sally said, lips twitching. ‘I think,’ she added, ‘that Mr Kestrel would not have considered bringing me here for a moment had he remembered that he was engaged for a family gathering.’ She glanced at Jack’s stony face. ‘I am little more than an acquaintance.’
‘Exactly so,’ Jack said drily. His sideways glance at her reminded her of the precise nature of their acquaintance and made her skin prickle with awareness.
Charlotte looked from one to the other, a frown puckering her brow. ‘Then if you forgot all about my invitation and did not bring Miss Bowes here to meet us, why are you here, Jack?’ She demanded.
‘We are here to look for Miss Bowes’s sister,’ Jack said. His gaze was enigmatic as it rested on Sally. ‘We have reason to believe that Miss Connie Bowes has eloped with Bertie Basset and we were wondering whether they had come here, Charley. I know Bertie always turns to you first in moments of crisis.’
‘Oh!’ Charlotte looked taken aback. ‘Well, no, I—’ She looked at Sally and her expression softened into genuine concern. ‘My dear Miss Bowes, I am so sorry! What a worry for you. But I am afraid I haven’t seen Bertie for over a month. It is true that he does rather treat me as an elder sister and confide in me.’ She smiled. ‘Lady Basset is not the type one can speak to—far too interested in her own affairs, you understand—and poor Bertie is an only child—’
‘Charley, you are a terrible rattle,’ Jack interrupted. ‘The only point of importance is that Bertie is not here.’
There was a rather awkward silence.
‘Never mind,’ Sally said. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, Mrs Harrington.’ She tried to keep her disappointment from her voice. Jack had been so sure that Charlotte would be the first person that Bertie would turn to and it was only now, when their search had drawn a blank, that Sally realised how much hope she had been placing on finding Connie at Dauntsey Park. Now, let down and weary, she felt absolutely flat.
‘We shall have to look elsewhere,’ she said, and turned back to the car.
‘Wait!’ Charlotte caught her arm. ‘You cannot travel on today! Where would you go? Stay with us and rest, and then we may all put our heads together and decide what is to be done.’
She turned to her brother with an engaging smile. ‘Jack? Miss Bowes is exhausted. Surely you can stay here tonight?’
Jack was slapping his driving gloves thoughtfully in the palm of his hand. It was clear to Sally that Charlotte’s suggestion found very little favour with him and she suspected that it was because the last thing he wanted was to have to introduce her to the rest of his family, or explain to them the story of Bertie and Connie’s elopement. He could not have made more clear to her the contempt in which he held her.
‘I could not possibly impose on you, Mrs Harrington,’ she said. ‘I suggest that Mr Kestrel takes me to the nearest town, where I may find some lodgings, and then he may return here to join your family party. We can always continue our search in the morning.’
Charley looked horrified. ‘Oh, that would be far too shabby, Miss Bowes! Jack would not dream of treating you thus, I am sure.’
Jack, Sally thought, looked eminently capable of treating her far worse than that, but whatever he was about to say was forestalled by the appearance of a couple of gentlemen from around the side of the house. They were dressed in tennis whites and carrying rackets and were deep in conversation, but when they saw the three of them—and, more specifically, the Lanchester—they hurried over.
‘I say,’ the taller and fairer of the two exclaimed, ‘what a corking piece of machinery, Kestrel! Makes my Model T Ford seem positively sedentary!’ He smiled at Sally and shook her hand. ‘Hello! You must be Jack’s latest. He always did have excellent taste in women as well as motor cars.’
‘Stephen!’ Charley Harrington said reprovingly. ‘This is Miss Sally Bowes.’
Sally smiled, but her attention had almost immediately gone to the man who had been playing tennis with Stephen. She had had no idea that her old family friend Gregory Holt was a connection of the Harringtons, but if this was a family party, then he must be.
Greg was smiling at her, but his cool blue eyes were thoughtful as he looked from her to Jack and back again. ‘How do you do, Miss Bowes?’ he said formally. ‘It is a delightful surprise to see you again and so unexpectedly.’
Sally’s heart was thudding. She could feel Jack’s gaze on her face. If he had looked tense before, now he was looking positively thunderous.
‘Miss Bowes,’ he said, even more coldly than before, ‘I believe you are already acquainted with Stephen’s cousin, Gregory Holt?’
Holt took Sally’s hand and held it for far longer than form dictated. ‘Miss Bowes and I have known each other a long time, Kestrel.’
‘Indeed,’ Jack said icily. Sally could feel the anger and tension in him. She felt even more awkward imposing on this family party now that Greg Holt was here. She had known Holt for years—he had been a pupil of her father’s at Oxford—and many years before, when she had been so unhappy with Jonathan, Greg had offered more than just friendship. He was looking at her now with the same warm admiration that he had always shown her and he had also picked up on Jack’s antagonism. Not that it seemed to bother him. He merely cocked a quizzical eyebrow and tightened his grip on Sally’s hand.
‘Well, this is splendid!’ Charlotte was saying, beaming at them. ‘You see, you are already amongst friends, Miss Bowes! Stephen!’ she added, seizing her husband’s arm and dragging him away from his appreciation of the car, ‘Do tell Jack that he simply