Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick

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      www.nicolacornick.co.uk

      The ancestral line of the Dukes of Kestrel had bred rakes and rogues aplenty in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The family seat, Kestrel Court, is nestled in the Midwinter Villages and you can read about the exploits of the Kestrel family in Nicola Cornick’s bestselling series, the BLUESTOCKING BRIDES:

      THE NOTORIOUS LORD

      ONE NIGHT OF SCANDAL THE RAKE’S MISTRESS

      Available as eBooks. Visit www.mirabooks.co.uk

      Other novels by Nicola Cornick

      WHISPER OF SCANDAL

      ONE WICKED SIN MISTRESS BY MIDNIGHT

      To my wonderful grandmother, born Doris Mary Wood in 1908, still an inspiration to me now.

       Prologue

       June 1908

      Jack Kestrel was looking for a woman.

      Not just any woman, but a female so unscrupulous, greedy and manipulative that she would blackmail a man who was dying.

      He had been assured that she would be at the art exhibition at the Wallace Collection tonight, but he did not know what she looked like. Whilst he tried to locate the curator to arrange an introduction, Jack stood at the top of the staircase and scanned the crowd that had flocked to the exhibition of portraits and miniatures. Most people were standing in small groups in the conservatory and the hall, chattering, drinking champagne, their purpose not so much to view the paintings as to see and be seen. The gentlemen were in evening dress, the ladies vivid in rainbow-coloured gowns and picture hats, their diamonds rivalling the glitter of the chandeliers.

      Jack turned and walked slowly along the corridor that led to the Grand Gallery. His cousin, the Duke of Kestrel, had loaned some portraits to the exhibition tonight including two very fine paintings by George Romney of Jack’s great-grandparents, Justin Duke of Kestrel and his wife. Jack was curious to see them; the last time he had viewed them they had been tucked in a dark corner of the family seat, Kestrel Court in Suffolk, in dire need of a clean. Buffy the present duke was an unashamed philistine about the arts and saw his collection as nothing more than an asset to sell as the income he gained from his land dwindled. Only the previous week, Jack had loaned Buffy a thousand pounds to prevent him from sending his entire collection of Stubbs’s racing paintings to Sotheby’s.

      There was only one person viewing the Kestrel portraits in the small drawing room. They were beautifully displayed and lit from below by a cunning arrangement of oil lamps. The same soft light that illuminated the portraits of Jack’s ancestors also shone on the woman standing before them, giving radiance to her face beneath the wide brim of her hat, making her complexion glow like cream and roses and shadowing her eyes with mysterious darkness. She was wearing a beautiful peach silk evening gown that draped sinuously over her body and her huge black picture hat had matching peach ribbons and roses on the brim.

      Jack stopped in the doorway, his eyes resting on her face. For a moment he felt an odd sensation in his chest, almost as though she had reached out and physically touched him. It was not a feeling he had ever experienced before. Apart from a disastrous entanglement in his youth, he had kept his relationships with women a simple and straightforward business of mutual physical convenience. Not one of them had made the breath catch in his throat or his heart miss a beat. He decided to ignore the sudden and disturbing stir of emotions within him and crossed the room to her side.

      She did not turn. She seemed engrossed in the portrait of Justin Kestrel, with his dark СКАЧАТЬ