Читать книгу Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired - Nicola Cornick, Nicola Cornick - Страница 13

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.

‘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 good looks that were so hard and masculine in Jack were softened in Charlotte by the roundness of her face and an open, friendly expression. If this was indeed the cousin in whom Bertie Basset confided, Sally could see why he might choose her. She exuded a warmth that soothed Sally’s battered 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 cannot be so ill mannered as to disappear when he has only just arrived. He has some cork-brained idea of not stopping here because he is looking for Bertie, and Bertie is not here.’ She caught Jack’s meaningful glare and stopped abruptly before the whole story of Bertie’s elopement tumbled out. ‘Anyway,’ she added indignantly, ‘poor Miss Bowes is very tired and cannot be expected to be dragged off on some wild goose chase this evening.’ She spread her hands appealingly. ‘Oh, Stephen, do something! Make them stay!’

It seemed to Sally that Stephen Harrington was well able to cope with his wife’s melodrama, for now he merely thrust a hand through his tousled fair hair, smiled at Sally and remarked placidly that if Jack had decided to leave he doubted there was anything anyone else could do to change his mind.

‘For you know he is as damnably obstinate as you are, my love,’ he said to Charlotte, ‘and once you have set your mind to something, there is no arguing with you.’

‘And I,’ Charlotte said with spirit, ‘have quite set my mind to the fact that they must stay.’ She turned back to Sally. ‘At the least you must come inside and take some tea before you go dashing off again.’ She slipped her hand through Sally’s arm. ‘This way, Miss Bowes. I am sure you will appreciate the chance to have a rest. Travelling by automobile is all very fashionable, but it can be wearisome, especially when accompanied by a bad-tempered brute!’ She shot Jack a look of reproach. ‘Stephen darling, Gregory, do take Jack away and give him a big drink of something in the hope of improving his temper, or, if that does not work, in the hope of making him incapable of driving that car!’

In Charlotte’s opulently decorated blue-damask drawing room, Sally removed her hat and veil and sank with relief into a seat. She felt exhausted. Charlotte rang for tea and came across to sit beside her on the satinwood sofa.

‘I am most dreadfully sorry about this, Mrs Harrington,’ Sally said, as Charlotte turned, smiling, to face her. ‘Mr Kestrel was certain that Mr Basset would have brought Connie here.’ Her face fell. ‘I was so disappointed to find that we had not guessed right.’

Charlotte patted Sally’s hand comfortingly. ‘I am sorry for your distress, Miss Bowes. It must be very difficult for you trying to do the right thing by your sister. Do you have any other relatives or are you alone in the world?’

‘I have another younger sister,’ Sally said, thinking of Nell, ‘but our parents are dead.’

‘And I suppose that you have always been the one to look after the others,’ Charlotte said, nodding. ‘It must have been lonely for you. Being the eldest can be a burden sometimes, can it not, Miss Bowes?’

‘It can be,’ Sally said, realising with a rush just how lonely she had been sometimes. She looked up to meet Charlotte’s compassionate gaze. ‘I do feel a sense of responsibility. Nell—my sister Petronella—is a great supporter of women’s suffrage. She is a widow without two pennies to rub together.’ She just managed to stop herself before she blurted out the whole tale of Nell’s debts and her own despair. Charley’s warmth of manner was so soothing after Jack’s contempt that Sally was terribly afraid she might tell her everything on the strength of ten minutes’ acquaintance.

‘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.

‘I do apologise for not introducing you properly, Aunt Otto,’ he said. ‘In the excitement of your arrival I quite forgot. Sally darling—’ his tone forbade all argument ‘—this is my great-aunt, Lady Ottoline Kestrel.’

‘Forgot your own fiancée, eh?’ Lady Ottoline said. Her eyes appraised Sally’s flushed face and softened slightly. ‘Well, well, Jack. You do surprise me. For a moment I thought you’d brought one of your fancy women to a family party at your sister’s house.’

‘God forbid,’ Jack said silkily. He slid an arm about Sally’s waist, drawing her unyielding body close to him. His glance commanded her silence. She looked up at him and he gave her a smile so full of charm that she felt her knees weaken.

‘We must have a chat later, my dear,’ Lady Ottoline continued, giving Sally a wintry smile that was somehow more fearsome than her hauteur. ‘I am anxious to learn all about you.’ She looked sharply at Jack. ‘Does your papa know?’

‘Not yet,’ Jack said. ‘It is but a recent development.’

Lady Ottoline smiled again. ‘Indeed. How charming. I shall send the news to Robert myself as soon as I have rested and partaken of tea. I only use the telephone in emergencies, but I feel this qualifies.’ She nodded to Sally and beckoned to Charlotte. ‘Come along, Charlotte! I want to see whether you took my advice and had the chairs in the Green Bedchamber reupholstered after my last visit. They were shockingly uncomfortable …’ Still talking, she hobbled off with the maid in her wake, and Charlotte shot Sally an agonised look before hurrying after her.

There was silence in the hall. Jack’s gaze was locked on Sally’s face.

‘I’ll go and help with the baggage,’ Stephen Harrington said hastily, looking from one of them to the other. ‘And move the car.’

‘So,’ Sally said, as the front door closed behind him and Patterson retreated discreetly down the passage to the servants’ quarters, ‘I am your fiancée now, am I, Mr Kestrel?’

Jack drove his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘My aunt is both old-fashioned and increasingly frail in her health,’ he said. ‘I had no wish to distress her by introducing you as my mistress at a family party. That would have been quite inappropriate.’

Sally winced. ‘At least we agree on one thing,’ she said coldly, ‘though why you had to introduce me as anyone other than an acquaintance who would shortly be leaving, I have no notion.’ She glared at him. ‘How could you possibly convince her that you actually have some affection for me—enough to wish to marry me?’

A disturbing smile tugged at Jack’s lips as he scrutinised her face. ‘I think we could both convince her of our passionate regard for one another,’ he murmured. ‘At the very least, we will have to try because I am afraid we shall be staying for a little while.’

Sally was infuriated. ‘So you have changed your mind and decided we are to stay now? How high-handed of you!’

Jack sighed. ‘We must. I have no desire to upset Aunt Ottoline and as Charley said, she is increasingly frail these days.’

‘Your great-aunt is about as frail as an old boot,’ Sally snapped. ‘You are simply afraid of her. Either that, or you have another reason.’

Jack grimaced. ‘Very well. I admit that I have no desire to tell Aunt Otto of Bertie’s latest indiscretion. He is her godson and her heir. I am sure it would cause her concern to hear he was throwing himself away on a fortune-hunting night-club hostess.’

‘You mean that she would disinherit him,’ Sally said. She understood Jack’s reasoning now. Keep the old lady sweet, keep the truth about Bertie and Connie’s elopement from her, and with luck the whole matter might be sorted out and Lady Ottoline be none the wiser. Once again Jack’s cynicism made her feel utterly disillusioned.

‘And if I refuse to play along with your masquerade?’ she asked.

Jack shrugged. ‘I am sure you will find a way to oblige me. After all, I thought that we were both getting what we wanted from our association?’

‘You mean the money,’ Sally said. Her throat was tight. How had she made such an error of judgement? She wished so profoundly that she had never asked him for the two hundred pounds. She had been terribly distressed over Nell’s situation, and equally furious and upset by Jack’s poor opinion of her, but it had led her to make a fatal error. She could see that now, now that she had confirmed every last one of his prejudices against her.

‘I will give you the money back,’ she whispered. ‘I made a mistake asking for it. It is not worth it.’

He caught her arm, his grip fierce. ‘Too late, my sweet. You took the money. You spent it.’

Sally wrenched herself out of his grasp. ‘I’ll pay it back,’ she said. ‘I’ll find a way, sell something …’

‘You already did,’ Jack said. His face was hard as granite. ‘You sold yourself for it, if you recall. And I am sure I can persuade you to do the same again.’

Their gazes locked and he drew her, unresisting, towards him and dropped a kiss on her lips. A shiver racked Sally’s body. How was it possible to feel so distant from this man and yet to feel his touch with a pleasure that she could not hide? It confused and distressed her.

‘You will be my fiancée if I require it.’ He bent his lips to brush the curve of her neck and the quivers of cool sensation skittered along her nerves. ‘You see,’ Jack said, turning her face up to his, ‘it is not so difficult to pretend.’

‘Save your displays of affection for the privacy of your own room, nephew, preferably after you are married!’ Lady Ottoline Kestrel boomed from the top of the staircase. She started to descend the steps towards them.

‘Well?’ Jack whispered. He raised one black brow. ‘Do you agree?’

Sally thought quickly. ‘For this one night only I will pose as your fiancée,’ she said, ‘but not to oblige you, Mr Kestrel. Just as you do not wish Mr Basset’s folly to be exposed to your great-aunt, so do I not want Connie to be subject to her censure. I wish to save this situation as much as you do.’

‘Of course.’ Jack gave her an ironic bow.

Without another word, Sally turned on her heel and walked out of the front door and down the steps. She needed fresh air and time to think. Behind her in the hall she could hear the sound of Lucy’s excited chatter as the nursemaid brought her back downstairs to see her uncle again, as promised. Sally thought of the happy family circle into which she had thrust herself and felt mortified. But then, it was Jack who had insisted on bringing her here and Connie who had forced this whole affair with her elopement. She should not take the blame herself. All she could do was to find Connie as quickly as possible and extract both of them from the situation with minimum fuss.

Sally walked across the cool shaded courtyard, with its fountains and statuary, towards the moat. The later afternoon sunlight shone on the water and dazzled her eyes for a moment. She raised a hand to shield them.

‘Are you all right, Sally, old girl?’

She had not heard Gregory Holt approaching, although now that he was beside her she reflected that she should have been aware of his proximity from the fug of pipe smoke that always enveloped him. Even when he had been a pupil of her father’s, he had smoked a pipe. Sally smiled to remember how she and Nell had teased him about appearing like an old man at the age of only twenty-one.

‘Oh, Greg,’ she said. ‘I did not see you there.’

Greg took her arm and steered her along the path towards a stone bench placed to look out across the moat to the deer park beyond.

‘Wanted to talk to you, old girl,’ he said. ‘I just heard that you are engaged to Jack Kestrel.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Don’t do it, Sal. I know you have shocking judgement when it comes to men, but this is a terrible mistake. Almost as bad as your last one.’

Despite herself, Sally laughed. ‘Must you always be on hand to warn me of the dangers of my romantic choices, Greg?’ She sobered. ‘I should have listened to you about Jonathan, I admit. I am sorry.’

Greg took her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. ‘Should listen to me now,’ he said. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been a friend of Jack’s since we were in short trousers. He’s a sound man in business and even better if you’re in a tight corner, but he’d make the devil of a husband.’

‘Then rest easy,’ Sally said, ‘for I have no intention of marrying him.’

Greg stared. ‘Then why—?’

‘It is a convenient fiction to explain my presence here to Lady Ottoline,’ Sally said with a shade of bitterness. ‘The truth is that Connie has eloped with Jack’s cousin Bertie and Jack and I are intent on tracking them down. Jack does not wish Lady Ottoline to know the truth as I understand Mr Basset is her heir.’

Greg did not answer immediately. He knocked the bowl of his pipe against the edge of the stone seat and fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for a pouch of fresh tobacco. Only when he had relit the pipe did he reply.

‘Jack’s a fool to think the old lady can be taken in,’ he said reflectively. ‘She’s as sharp as a new pin. And I’m surprised you went along with it, Sal. Not like you.’

Sally sighed. ‘I don’t like it,’ she admitted, ‘I am only doing it for Connie’s sake.’

Greg sighed as well. ‘You take too much responsibility for that girl. You should leave her to make her own mistakes and face the consequences, Sal.’

‘I know,’ Sally said. She remembered Mrs Matson saying much the same thing. ‘But I have a duty to both Connie and Nell, Greg—’

‘Nonsense,’ Greg said rudely. ‘You always did have some bee in your bonnet about Sir Peter’s death being your fault and how you had deprived your sisters of their father’s protection.’

Sally blushed defensively. ‘It’s true.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Greg spoke roughly, but his tone softened as he glanced at her face. ‘There was nothing that you could have done, Sally.’

For a moment the memories threatened to swamp Sally’s mind. She stared at the smooth green waters of the moat and remembered the river closing over her father’s head and her frantic efforts to give him her hand and pull him to safety. She gave a violent shudder and pushed the memory firmly away.

‘And what about yourself and Jack?’ Greg was saying.

Sally could feel herself colouring up. ‘I barely know him.’

‘Which,’ Greg said drily, ‘hardly answers the question.’

‘All right,’ Sally conceded. Greg had always been shrewd and there was no point in trying to deceive him. ‘I admit that there was something between us, but it was based on a misunderstanding. That’s all.’

She felt his thoughtful gaze on her face. ‘If he hurt you—’ he began.

‘He didn’t,’ Sally said quickly. She could not bear to expose her feelings, even to Greg. She gave him a rueful smile. ‘Bless you, Greg, for always standing as the brother I never had.’

Greg pulled a face. ‘Not the relationship that I want with you, Sally, as you know.’ He answered her smile with an equally rueful one of his own. ‘You have always seen me as a brother and I have never seen you as a sister. That’s the tragedy.’

Sally was silent. She knew that was the nub of the matter. It had been so tempting to run away with Greg when she had been desperately unhappy with Jonathan, but even in the depths of her misery she had known she would have been selling Greg short because she was not in love with him. To take his love and use it for her own ends seemed shabby then and it would be shabby now.

‘Your reputation suggests you do not pine for me,’ she said lightly.

‘My reputation,’ Greg said feelingly, ‘was gained as a result of my attempts to forget you!’

‘Don’t try to pin that on me,’ Sally said warmly. ‘I was not responsible for turning you into a rake and a gambler. And if you say that I could have saved you, I will box your ears!’

‘You could have saved me,’ Greg said, with a straight face. He sighed. ‘I know that you never needed me,’ he added, his blue gaze steady on her face. ‘I understand that.’

‘I do need you,’ Sally said. ‘I need you as a friend.’ Fleetingly she thought of the two hundred pounds that she had sent to Nell. If only she had asked Greg to give her a loan, not Jack. But then she had always been damnably independent. It was one of her besetting sins. She would not have wanted to go cap in hand to Greg and ask for money. She had only thrown the request for two hundred pounds in Jack’s face because he had incensed her.

‘That must be the kiss of death on a romance,’ Greg said cheerfully, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. ‘Come along. Time to dress for dinner.’

A shadow fell across them and Sally put up a hand to shade her eyes from the low afternoon sun. It was inevitable, she thought, that Jack should be standing there with a face like thunder as he took in the sight of her hand clasped once again in that of Gregory Holt’s.

‘Hello, Jack, old man,’ Greg said easily, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he registered Jack’s stony expression, ‘your lovely fiancée and I were just discussing romance.’

‘I see,’ Jack said coldly. He turned pointedly to Sally. ‘Charley sent me to show you around the place,’ he said, ‘but it seems that you are already quite at home.’

‘Sally is certainly among friends,’ Greg said, and Sally felt the unspoken but unmistakable threat in his words and saw Jack square up to the challenge.

‘Excuse me,’ she said hastily to Greg, freeing her hand from his and slipping past both men. ‘I shall go and prepare for dinner.’ And she walked away without a backwards glance to either of them. Let them sort out their differences without her. She could already feel the unresolved tension in Jack that could surely escalate into violence with one deliberately careless word from Greg. And it made no sense to her at all, for how could Jack be so possessive when she was no more than his temporary fiancée and he certainly did not love her?