Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick
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face.
‘You are breaking my heart, Miss Bowes,’ he said cynically. ‘The truth is that your sister is nothing but a gold-digger and you are as good as a procuress!’ He looked at her thoughtfully and under his scrutiny the colour burned into her face because she knew he was thinking about their nights together.
‘I am surprised,’ he drawled, ‘that you held on to your virginity for as long as you did when it was something that you could sell for money. Did you see me, Miss Bowes, and think that I was rich enough to be made to pay? How long before I receive a visit from your lawyer bringing a court case for deflowering an innocent girl?’ He laughed, and the contempt in it shrivelled Sally’s soul. ‘Damn it, even if I have to pay up, it was almost worth it. You tasted very sweet.’
The fury and misery swamped Sally. She found she was shaking. She thought of Nell struggling to find two hundred pounds to save her own children and buy medicine and food and she thought of Jack’s hateful callousness. If he already had such a low opinion of her, what did it matter what else he thought about her? She would never be able to change his opinion. Their sweet affair was over before it had barely begun and her love with it.
She took a deep breath.
‘I would settle for two hundred pounds,’ she said.
As soon as the words were out she thought she was going to faint at her own audacity. She felt sick and shaky. Jack had turned away for a moment and now he spun around to look at her and his eyes widened as though, even with the poor opinion he held of her, she had surprised him. Perhaps she had. Perhaps he had not expected her to be so shameless. Sally concentrated fiercely on thinking of her family and waited.
His gaze was hard and appraising as it scoured her from head to toe and left her trembling. Then he smiled, a cynical smile. His put his hand, very slowly, into his pocket and withdrew a leather wallet.
‘My advice,’ he drawled, ‘would be to negotiate your fee in advance in future, Miss Bowes.’
Sally swallowed hard. Her throat was dry and her heart was beating so hard she thought he would be able to see how she shook.
‘Two hundred pounds for two nights,’ Jack said, extracting some fifty-pound notes from his wallet. ‘You could have asked for much more.’ He came up to her and put a hand against her cheek. His touch was gentle, but the expression in his eyes was hard. ‘How much do you want to be my mistress?’
Sally closed her eyes. She knew that with her demand for money she had confirmed every belief he had about her mercenary soul. And yet despite the hostility between them he still wanted to sleep with her because the searing, sensual passion between them had not yet been sated. Having purchased her virginity, he thought he could buy her to be his mistress.
She had sold her virginity for two hundred pounds.
The reality hit her like a rip tide, making her tremble with despair and self-disgust. And straight on the heels of that thought she felt Jack lean down and his mouth take hers with ruthless intensity.
The kiss was a statement of possession and though it was over almost before it began, it shook Sally to the core. He let her go and she rocked back on her heels, catching her breath. Once again his gaze appraised her with insolent thoroughness, as though stripping every one of her clothes from her.
‘How much?’ he repeated. He put the banknotes in her hand.
‘Nothing,’ Sally said. She cleared her throat. ‘That is … I have no interest in being your mistress, Mr Kestrel.’
A cynical smile tugged at Jack’s lips. ‘I am sure you could be persuaded, Miss Bowes, for the right price.’ He straightened. ‘We will discuss this later. In the meantime I want to talk to your sister. She is here?’
‘I … Yes …’ Sally tried to pull herself together. ‘Connie is indeed here—I spoke with her this morning.’ She glanced ostentatiously at the clock. ‘Connie will still be abed, Mr Kestrel. You are somewhat early this morning, and I am afraid that my sister seldom rises before midday.’
‘Then we will go and wake her,’ Jack said grimly.
‘Very well.’ Sally stalked towards the door. She was still shaking. She needed some time alone. The banknotes seemed to burn her palm. ‘Please would you wait here?’ she said.
‘I am hardly going to sit idly by whilst Miss Constance escapes out of a back window,’ Jack drawled. He raised a brow. ‘Surely you are not concerned about a gentleman entering her bedroom? There must have been plenty over the years, judging by the detail in these papers.’
Sally gritted her teeth. Having just proved herself perfidious and money-grabbing in his eyes, she was not in a particularly good position to defend anyone else. She tried to focus on Nell’s children. Now they could have a roof over their heads and the medicines they needed. And Nell would be able to help the other families too …
‘Constance,’ Jack was saying thoughtfully. ‘What a damnably inappropriate name for your sister, Miss Bowes. Unless it is constancy in the pursuit of a fortune, of course.’
Sally ignored him. She thrust open the office door and stormed into the outer office, where Mary and the girl who did the typing were sitting trying to pretend that they had not been eavesdropping on every word. This time Jack had to hurry to keep up with Sally as she marched up the two flights of stairs and charged down the corridor to Connie’s room, flinging the door open.
The room was in darkness.
Sally picked her way across to the window and flung back the curtains so that the daylight flooded into the room.
It looked as though a tornado had swept through, or a very untidy burglar had ransacked the place. The bed was empty and unmade, the sheets and blankets in a tangle at the bottom. The wardrobe door was open and there were piles of clothes strewn on the floor with random shoes littered amongst them.
‘What on earth—?’ Jack began.
‘Connie is very untidy,’ Sally said abruptly, picking her way through the puddles of clothes to the dressing table.
‘She is also very absent,’ Jack pointed out.
Sally picked up the single sheet of paper that was on the dresser. It was only four hours since she had left Connie to sleep off her excesses, but now a cast-iron certainty hit Sally hard in the stomach. Her sister had never intended to stay. She had sneaked in to get some clothes and then she had run away. With Bertie Basset. She looked at the note.
Darling Sally, by the time you read this I shall be gone! Bertie and I are to be married and we went away secretly, immediately after I saw you this morning.
Sally sat down very suddenly on the dressing-table stool. In the mirror she could see her shocked, pale reflection staring back at her. She thought of Connie and Bertie Basset and a lifetime of misery and infidelity and the divorce courts. Connie had never loved anyone but John Pettifer and Sally knew she did not love Bertie in the all-consuming way that a woman should love the man she chose to marry. Connie was using Bertie, and it could only end in heartache.
We knew that Bertie’s father would never accept our love and would make poor Bertie give me up, so the only way for us to be together was to elope. We had resolved on it even before we heard that Bertie’s horrid cousin Jack was on the warpath. I am sorry to have deceived you, but I love Bertie so much that the fact he now has no money simply cannot be allowed to weigh with me and I must be united with him …
Little liar, Sally thought. She knew her sister’s feelings were as shallow as a puddle. She could see the whole swindle now: Bertie, immature and easily led, genuinely wanted to marry Connie and she wanted his title, money and status. They had cooked up an elopement together but Connie had also hatched a daring plan to have her cake and eat it. They had guessed, quite rightly, that Lord Basset would cut Bertie off without a penny, so Connie had tried to both blackmail Lord Basset and trick him into thinking the affair was all over. Had he paid up to keep her quiet, she would have got both the money and the man …