Miss Sally. You are not to blame for your father’s death.’
Sally did not reply. It was true that they had had this discussion many times and she knew in her head that she was not directly responsible for Sir Peter Bowes’s death, yet every day she reproached herself because she might have prevented it. She might have saved him …
‘I don’t know what to do with Connie,’ she said now. ‘I can’t reach her.’
‘You’ve tried.’ Matty bent creakily to retrieve the skirt. ‘You never stop trying. Time you thought about yourself for a change, Miss Sally, if you’ll pardon my saying so. Now, who is this gentleman you’re dining with?’
Sally sighed. ‘Mr Kestrel. He has come to retrieve the letters that Connie is apparently using to extort money from his uncle.’
Mrs Matson made a noise like an engine expelling steam. ‘Mr Jack Kestrel? The one who ran off with someone and broke his mother’s heart?’
‘Very probably,’ Sally said.
If ever a man had been born to cause a scandal over a woman, Jack Kestrel was that man.
Matty tutted loudly. ‘I remember the case being in all the papers. His mistress was married when she ran off with Mr Kestrel. Her husband went after them. She was shot and there was a terrible scandal’
‘How dreadful,’ Sally said, shivering. She wondered what effect such a dreadful tragedy would have had on Jack Kestrel at such a young age.
‘Old aristocratic family, that one,’ Matty said. ‘Your Mr Kestrel is the last in a line that goes back hundreds of years. They say he has inherited all his rakish ancestors’ vices, and I suppose the business of his mistress proves it.’
‘Did the Kestrels have any virtues as well?’ Sally asked.
Matty had to think hard about that one. ‘A lot of them were soldiers,’ she said, ‘so they were probably very courageous. Mr Kestrel joined the army after he was banished. I hear he won medals for gallantry.’
‘Trying to get himself killed, more like.’ Sally said. ‘How do you know all these things, Matty?’
‘I know everything,’ Mrs Matson said smugly. ‘He’s a dangerous one, and no mistake, Miss Sally. You watch him. Charm the birds from the trees and the ladies into his bed, so he does.’
‘Matty!’ Sally was scandalised. The colour flooded her face. ‘He won’t charm me.’
‘Best not,’ Matty said. ‘You need a nice young man after that dreadful husband of yours, Miss Sally, not a scoundrel. Now, how about the gold Fortuny gown for tonight?’
‘No, thank you,’ Sally said, considering for a moment the tumble of evening dresses on her bed. ‘I think I need the Poiret column gown tonight, Matty, to give me courage.’
‘We’ll have to change your corset, then,’ Matty said, with disapproval. ‘Don’t like these newfangled modern contraptions, myself. They’ll be doing away with the corset altogether at this rate and then where will we be? What’s wrong with the old styles, I always say?’
‘You can’t breathe in them,’ Sally said.
‘I’ve breathed perfectly well for nigh on seventy years,’ the old nurse proclaimed. ‘Nothing wrong in a bit of tight lacing. Sit down and I’ll do your hair.’
Sally sat obediently before the big mirror and Matty started to unpin her hair and brush it out. It was long and thick, a rich chestnut colour with lustrous golden strands. Matty always grumbled that it was a crime Sally wore her hair in such severe styles so that no one could see how beautiful it was. Sally claimed that it was not her job to look beautiful, but to keep the Blue Parrot running smoothly.
‘I’ll put the matching bandeau and the diamond pins in tonight, Miss Sally,’ Matty said now. ‘No arguing, mind.’
Sally was not going to argue. Jack Kestrel was, she was sure, a connoisseur of feminine beauty and whilst she could not compete in looks with some of the Blue Parrot’s prettiest hostesses—or, indeed, with her own sister—she knew she scrubbed up quite well. The Poiret dress also added to her confidence. Long, silky, lusciously rich and expensive, it slithered over her head and skimmed her body like a straight column of bright fuchsia-pink colour.
‘Don’t look so bad, I suppose,’ Matty said grudgingly. ‘You’ve certainly got the figure for it, Miss Sally. Doubt your young man will be able to take his eyes off you.’
‘He’s here to talk about his cousin, not to court me,’ Sally said, repressing a traitorous rush of excitement at the thought of Jack Kestrel’s eyes on her. ‘His cousin Mr Basset, I mean, not the Duke of Kestrel.’
Matty puffed out her thin cheeks. ‘Mr Basset, Miss Connie’s young man?’
‘Yes,’ Sally said. ‘Do you know about that? Does Connie really like him?’
Matty looked a little grim. ‘You never know with Miss Connie, do you? Think she’s out with him tonight, though. Told me earlier that she was dining with him.’
Sally frowned as she reached for her fuchsia evening bag. Albert the doorman had said much the same thing, which made no sense if Connie was trying to extort money from Lord Basset over his son’s indiscretion. Surely she would wait for the affair to end before she tried to blackmail Bertie Basset? There was something else going on here. Sally was sure of it. Connie was up to something and Sally did not like the sound of it.
Not that she was going to discuss her doubts with Jack Kestrel. She was taking dinner with him merely to pass the time until Connie returned. Not for a moment could she forget that, nor allow herself to be distracted by Jack’s undeniable charm or the inconvenient attraction he held for her. She would be cool and composed. She would remember that he was dangerous to her on so many levels.
She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The Poiret gown shimmered seductively over every curve. The diamonds sparkled in her hair. She drew herself up. This was business, not pleasure and she had best not forget that.
Dan met her as soon as she stepped off the bottom step and on to the marble floor of the entrance hall. She raised her brows at the look on his face.
‘Trouble?’
‘Yes.’ A frown wrinkled Dan’s broad forehead. ‘Mr Kestrel is in the Gold Salon. Said he wanted to play a few hands of baccarat.’
‘And?’ Sally kept a smile plastered on her face as a noisy group of diners passed by and paused to compliment her on the quality of the Blue Parrot’s service.
‘And now the bank is down five thousand pounds.’
‘Damnation!’ Sally felt a twinge of real alarm. A little while ago Jack Kestrel had threatened to ruin her business, but she had not thought he would do so that very night by breaking the bank at her own gaming tables.
‘There’s worse,’ Dan said in an undertone, taking her arm and hurrying her along the corridor towards the casino. ‘The King is here.’
‘What?’ For a moment Sally felt faint. ‘The King? King Edward?’
‘Himself.’
