[Cornick Nicola] The Last Rake in London(Bookos.org) by The Last Rake in London Page A

library.’
    Jack threw down his napkin and got to his feet. He had taken breakfast alone as his uncle’s poor health left him bedridden and Lady Basset never rose before midday even though she was as fit as a fiddle. The house in Eaton Square was gloomy and quiet as a tomb now that his uncle was so ill and the Bassets no longer went out or entertained. Jack felt a strong urge to move out again to his club for the rest of his stay in London.
    Bertie had made no appearance at the table that morning and Jack had assumed, a little grimly, that he had not come back the previous night. Not that he could talk. These days the milk was being delivered when he arrived home. Once again he had forced himself to leave Sally sleeping and had crept out like a thief. This time the impulse to stay with her had been even stronger than the night before. Their intense lovemaking had not quenched the need he had for her. The reverse was true. He had tried to satisfy his desire by slaking his body, but it only seemed to make matters worse. He wanted to possess Sally Bowes’s soul as well as her body, bind her to him as his alone. He had thought it no more than a physical urge. He had been profoundly wrong. The urge to propose marriage to her after a whirlwind three days was growing ever stronger. But that was madness. He had wanted to marry Merle, but there had never been another woman since whom he wished to wed. He could not love Sally as he had loved Merle. He did not want to expose himself to that sort of pain again. Surely this instinct he had to claim her was no more than a combination of old-fashioned guilt and primitive possessiveness.
    Frowning, he crossed the hall and went into the library. He had forgotten about Churchward’s visit. Several days ago, when his uncle had first told him about Bertie’s indiscretion and Connie Bowes’s blackmail, he had asked the lawyer to look into her history. Now he felt vaguely uncomfortable about this, as though he was in some way being disloyal to Sally. He thought of Sally’s candid eyes, of the honesty that she had shown him. Whatever her sister’s duplicity, Sally had surely been telling the truth when she had said she knew nothing of it. All he could do now was to try to deal with the matter as best he could without hurting her.
    Mr John Churchward, of the firm Churchward, Churchward and Boyce of High Holborn, was perched on a chair in the library, his briefcase on his knee, looking slightly nervous. John Churchward was only the latest in a line of the Churchward family who had served the Kestrels as lawyers for decades. The Boyce mentioned in the company name was a recent partner, but Jack had never met him. All his business, including the sorrowful meeting before Jack had been banished ten years before, had been concluded with this man, a thin, stooping figure who had a nervous habit of constantly adjusting the glasses that habitually slid down his nose and whose age was indeterminate. Ten years before, Mr Churchward had been in the unhappy position of confirming that Jack’s father did not intend to pay him any type of allowance at all during his exile. On Jack’s return as a rich, self-made man, Mr Churchward, who had not looked a day older, had seemed genuinely pleased to see him and to discover the independent success Jack had made of his business ventures.
    ‘I came as soon as I could gather the information you required, sir,’ Mr Churchward said now. ‘I have made some enquiries into the background of Miss Bowes and her relationship with Mr Basset.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘A most flighty young lady, if I may say so, sir, and…’ he cleared his throat, blushing slightly ‘…somewhat indiscriminate with her affections as well.’
    ‘You do not surprise me, Churchward,’ Jack said, grimly. ‘Tell me your worst.’
    ‘Well, sir…’ Churchward made a fuss of opening the case and removing a sheaf of papers ‘…Miss Constance Bowes is the youngest daughter of