Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick
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look. ‘Buffy don’t like the girls. Robert, Jack’s father, is heir to the dukedom of Kestrel and Jack after him.’
‘I see,’ Sally said, thinking that Jack Kestrel really was a great catch for any woman prepared to put up with his vile temper and inability to love her.
‘I hope,’ Lady Ottoline said disagreeably, ‘that you are not going to pretend you did not know you had caught the heir to a dukedom?’
‘I do not really care,’ Sally said, with extreme frankness. ‘When I choose to wed, Lady Ottoline, it is the man that matters to me, not his title or his money.’
Lady Ottoline’s plucked brows shot up towards her diamond headdress. ‘Well, upon my word!’
‘Having been married once before,’ Sally continued, ‘I have to be extremely careful in my next choice.’ Suddenly she felt reckless. If she could shock Lady Ottoline into repudiating her, it would serve Jack right for his machinations. ‘I do not wish to make as ghastly a mistake second time around as I did the first time,’ she said. ‘So the selection of a new husband is of paramount importance to me. He must have integrity and wit and be faithful, honourable and never, ever bore me. That is all I ask.’
There was a long silence. Sally selected a bonbon from the dish on the table in front of her and popped it into her mouth, before daring to steal a look under her lashes at Lady Ottoline. Her ladyship was regarding her with a very shrewd expression in her dark eyes.
‘I see,’ Lady Ottoline said. She frowned slightly. ‘Your name is familiar to me, Miss Bowes. Now, why would that be?’
Sally glanced at Jack across the room. He and Stephen had rejoined the ladies a scandalously short ten minutes after dinner was finished, having certainly not had time to consume a leisurely glass of port or luxuriate in a cigar, but when he had shown every sign of wanting to speak with her, Lady Ottoline had told him curtly to take himself off.
‘I wish to talk to your fiancée, Jack,’ she had said imperiously. ‘You may speak to her later.’
And so Jack had been obliged to make small talk with the other guests, but Sally was very conscious of his gaze resting on her from time to time, dark and serious but without the edge of anger that she had become accustomed to seeing there since their terrible confrontation that morning.
‘Miss Bowes?’ Lady Ottoline’s tone was sharp, but with a betraying edge of indulgence. ‘It is all very well to stare at one’s own fiancé, but I would like an answer as well, if you please.’
‘I beg your pardon, my lady,’ Sally said, hastily dragging her gaze away from Jack. ‘Perhaps you recognise my name because you have heard that I own the Blue Parrot, which is a nightclub on the Strand in London?’
There was another silence whilst she waited for Lady Ottoline to explode with shock. Surely, this time, she had overstepped the mark. No respectable great-aunt could contemplate such an alliance for her nephew. But Lady Ottoline was made of sterner stuff. She pursed her lips and shook her head. There was a steely light in her eye now as though she had realised just what Sally was about and was determined to thwart her.
‘No, that wasn’t it,’ she said. Her dark eyes brightened. ‘Do you, though? How marvellous to own a nightclub! You must tell me all about it, Miss Bowes. I do admire a gel with a bit of spirit, having been one myself.’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Sally said, realising she had underestimated the opposition. ‘I am sure that you were.’
‘You were married to Jonathan Hayward, were you not?’ Lady Ottoline said abruptly. ‘He was a dreadful cad, a total rotter. My late brother always said that it made him feel quite nauseous to think of him.’
Sally laughed. She was starting to like Lady Ottoline rather a lot. ‘Thank you, my lady. He had much the same effect on me.’
‘We have much in common,’ Lady Ottoline said drily. ‘I suppose Jack thought I’d cut up rough if I knew all about your history?’ Her eyes gleamed with suppressed amusement. ‘Silly boy, just because I never married he must think I am as cosseted as a baby!’
‘I imagine he might have been a little wary of telling you,’ Sally said, smiling. She was enjoying this conversation a lot now. ‘After all, owning a nightclub is scarcely respectable, and nor is potential divorce.’
‘Well, who cares a fig about that?’ Lady Ottoline demanded. ‘Sometimes it is more fun to be scandalous. I remember my mama telling me that being respectable all the time was a dashed dull deal. She worked as a spy for the British government, you know, and eloped with her husband. She was quite a woman.’
‘I saw her picture at the Collection,’ Sally said. ‘She was stunningly beautiful.’ She smiled. ‘You were a very pretty child yourself, Lady Ottoline.’
Lady Ottoline gave a spontaneous chuckle. ‘Changed a bit since then, eh!’
‘Not so much, I imagine,’ Sally said, smiling.
Briefly Lady Ottoline’s beringed hand clasped Sally’s own. ‘I like you, Miss Bowes. I’m glad your experiences didn’t put you off men.’ She looked across at Jack. ‘Jack’s a good boy. You mustn’t listen to all the gossip about his past.’
‘He hasn’t told me much about that,’ Sally said truthfully.
‘Terrible scandal,’ Lady Ottoline said gruffly. ‘Ran off with a married woman when he was barely out of his teens. Robert banished him abroad, the fool. Not that I didn’t think Jack needed to grow up, but it was a terrible tragedy to cast him out like that. Broke his mother’s heart and Charlotte’s too.’
‘I am sorry for that,’ Sally said. ‘Charley is a lovely person.’
‘Well, she’s got him back now,’ Lady Ottoline said. She squeezed Sally’s hand. ‘You’ll be good for him, my dear. I can tell. And as I say, don’t listen to any gossip. He’ll tell you everything in his own good time.’
Sally doubted it. Whatever had happened between Jack and his mistress was part of the dark secrets that he kept locked inside. There was a lump in her throat as she though how little she and Jack deserved Lady Ottoline’s good opinion.
‘What will I tell her?’
Both Sally and Lady Ottoline jumped as Jack spoke from right beside them.
‘Shouldn’t go creeping up on deaf old ladies, nephew,’ Lady Ottoline said crossly, ‘or you’ll be enjoying my fortune before you know it.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘Perhaps that’s the plan, eh! Scare me into my grave and take the money!’
‘I’d prefer to enjoy your company rather than your money, Aunt Otto,’ Jack said, and Lady Ottoline looked pleased, although she did not say anything.
‘I thought,’ Sally said, ‘that it was Mr Basset who was your heir, ma’am, not Jack?’ She smiled challengingly at him. ‘Surely he has enough money of his own?’
‘I’ve decided that I don’t want to leave my money to that silly widgeon Bertie Basset,’ Lady Ottoline said astringently. ‘My money—I can do as I please with it. He would only spend it on gambling and loose women.’
Jack caught Sally’s eye. A faint smile curled his firm mouth as though to remind her that Bertie had already done precisely that.
‘I’ve remembered!’ Lady Ottoline said triumphantly. ‘Knew I’d heard the Bowes name before. I heard your father speak once at the Sheldonian in Oxford. He was a fascinating speaker and a most talented architect.’ She glanced around. ‘I believe Gregory Holt was a pupil of his.’
‘He was.’ Sally could feel Jack’s gaze on her and was annoyed to feel herself blushing when she had nothing to blush about.
‘If you will excuse us, Aunt Otto,’ Jack said, ‘I wondered if I might take Sally for a short stroll on the terrace.’
Lady Ottoline smiled.