Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick
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‘Whereas you, Mr Kestrel,’ Sally said, very drily, ‘no doubt claim, quite truthfully, to be far more experienced.’
Jack shot her a sinfully wicked grin. For a second it reminded her forcibly of their meeting the previous night. Sally’s knees weakened and her toes curled within her sensible shoes. ‘Naturally,’ he said. ‘And please call me Jack. I doubt that this place operates on formality.’
It did not, of course, but Sally was not going to let Jack Kestrel tell her what to do in her own club.
‘Mr Kestrel,’ she said, ‘we digress. As you so perceptively pointed out, I am not your cousin’s mistress. I know nothing of this matter. I believe there must have been a misunderstanding.’
Jack sighed. His expression hardened again. ‘There usually is in cases like this, Miss Bowes. The misunderstanding is that my uncle is going to part with a large sum of money.’
This time the angry colour stung Sally’s face. ‘I am not attempting to blackmail anyone!’
‘Perhaps not.’ Jack came to his feet in a fluid movement. ‘But I also believe that you know who is.’
Sally stared at him, her mind working feverishly. If her guess was correct, then her sister Connie, the toast of London, had done a monumentally foolish thing and was trying to blackmail a peer of the realm. Unfortunately it was all too easy to believe because, though Connie might be incredibly pretty, she was not over-endowed with intelligence. And she was spoilt. If she did not get what she wanted, she would stamp her foot. If she had wanted Bertie and the love affair had turned sour, she might well try to take him for what she could and the result of that madness was Jack Kestrel, standing in Sally’s office, looking both hostile and unyielding.
‘Perhaps it is your sister who is the culprit,’ Jack Kestrel said softly, and Sally jumped at how easily he read her mind. ‘I have not met her, but I have heard about her. She also works here, does she not?’
Sally pressed her fingers to her temples in an effort to dispel the headache that was starting to pound there. She could not give Connie away—that felt too disloyal. She needed to speak with her sister first. Except that Connie never confided in her these days. They were not close—had not been since Connie’s last disastrous, broken love affair. Her sister had withdrawn into herself after that and barely spoke to Sally any more. But now Sally was going to have to make Connie talk.
‘Please leave the matter with me, Mr Kestrel,’ she said. ‘I will deal with it.’ She looked up. ‘I give you my word that your uncle will not be troubled further.’
Jack sighed again. ‘I would like to trust you, Miss Bowes, but I do not. Do I look as though I came down in the last shower?’ He shook his head slightly. ‘You could easily be party to this affair and simply to accept your word would be very green of me.’ His contemptuous gaze swept over her, leaving Sally hot with anger and mortification. ‘You should know that my uncle is elderly and has been increasingly frail for some years,’ Jack added. ‘Recently we were told that he did not have long to live. A matter such as this will hasten his end. But perhaps you do not care about that.’
‘Perhaps you should speak to your cousin,’ Sally snapped back, ‘and persuade him not to write ill-considered love letters. There are, after all, two sides to every affair!’
Jack smiled. ‘Indeed there are, Miss Bowes, and I will be speaking to Bertie and suggesting that he does not involve himself in future with good-time girls on the make.’
‘You are offensive, Mr Kestrel,’ Sally said. Her voice shook with anger and the strain of remaining civil.
‘I beg your pardon.’ Jack did not sound remotely apologetic. ‘I dislike blackmail and extortion, Miss Bowes. It tends to bring out the worst in me.’
Sally shook her head irritably. ‘I do not believe that this is helping us progress the matter, Mr Kestrel.’
‘No, you are quite right,’ Jack said. ‘And until I can tell my uncle that I have destroyed those letters with my own hand, I cannot rest easy. Surely you would not expect me to do otherwise, Miss Bowes?’
Sally would not have expected it. A forceful man like Jack Kestrel was not going to back down on a matter like this. Which left her with a huge problem. How could she protect Connie and yet ensure that the letters were either returned or destroyed? She had always defended Connie, it was a habit with her, even though she thought these days that her sister was as hard as nails and did not really need her protection.
‘Miss Bowes?’ Jack’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘You seem to be having some difficulty making your decision. Perhaps it might concentrate your mind if I tell you that, if you do not hand over the letters, I shall call the police in.’
Sally spun around on him, her eyes flashing. ‘You would not do that!’
‘Yes, I would.’ Although there was amusement in Jack Kestrel’s eyes, his tone was cold. ‘As I said, I don’t like blackmailers, Miss Bowes. It is only out of deference to my uncle that I did not go directly to the authorities.’ His expression hardened further. ‘Oh, and I will do everything I may to ruin the reputation of the Blue Parrot and to put you out of business. And you may be certain that my influence is extensive.’
Sally stared at him, two bright spots of angry colour vivid in her cheeks. She had no doubt that he could put his threat into practice. He was rich and well connected, a member of King Edward’s exclusive, excessive circle of friends, able to turn the fickle monarch’s attention in other directions. At present the Blue Parrot was fashionable, but how long would that last if the gilded crowds who thronged its doors chose to take their business elsewhere? And she had just taken a huge loan from the bank in order to improve her business. She was dependent on her investors. It would be all too easy to ruin her financially …
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again. Jack Kestrel was standing looking at her with the same quizzical expression in his eyes that she had seen there before. Her heart thumped once, then settled to its normal beat.
‘You are harsh in your threats, Mr Kestrel,’ she said, as steadily as she could. ‘This is nothing to do with me and yet you seek to make me pay for it. It is not the behaviour of a gentleman.’
Jack shrugged. ‘I play the game by the rules that are set for me, Miss Bowes. It was your sister who raised the stakes.’
Sally pressed her hands together. She could see no point in arguing. She knew he would make no concessions. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘If you would give me a couple of hours to deal with this matter—’
‘One hour. I will give you one hour only.’
‘But I need longer that that! I don’t know where Connie—’ Sally caught herself a moment too late.
‘So it is Connie who is the Beautiful Miss Bowes?’ Jack raised his brows. ‘Of course.’ He took a letter from the pocket of his coat and unfolded it. ‘I see that the initial in the signature is a C. How slow of me. I should have spotted that.’
‘You should certainly be surer of your ground before you make wild accusations,’ Sally said. ‘You are extremely discourteous, Mr Kestrel.’
Jack laughed, refolded the letter and put it away. ‘I am direct, Sally. It is a quality of mine.’
The warm tone in his voice, the way he said her name, made Sally’s heart turn over even as she deplored his familiarity.
‘I did not give you leave to use my name, Mr Kestrel,’ she snapped.
‘No?’ Jack gave her a mocking glance. ‘I must admit that you do seem given to formality. Do your clients have to address you as Miss Bowes as well?’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, I suppose a touch of severity probably appeals to some of them, if it comes accompanied by a cane and some chastisement.’
Sally felt the bright red colour sting her cheeks again. Jack Kestrel was not alone in assuming that the Blue Parrot