Taffeta & Hotspur (13 page)

“
And brought their little
ken here to London, if rumor is to be believed—besides, should they
not be punished for their acts in Nottingham?”

“
Not our job. The local
authority is looking into it, and I don’t believe that little band
is one and the same with the three working London.” Tarrant
shrugged and looked away.

“
My information may be
wrong, but if the Rogues Three are merely mimicking their
Nottingham counterparts or not, they still must be
stopped.”

“
Indeed, I quite agree.
These three scoundrels have a completely different style. I can
tell you that, as when I was visiting with my aunt, I was in a
position to learn a great deal, and those three never injured the
mill owners they robbed. Our London three are murderers and
traitors!” Tarrant said impatiently.

“
If word of our plans leaks
to Napoleon…”

“
Then whoever these London
Three are, we must not allow anything ‘important’ to be leaked
their way. I have a thought on the subject.”

“
Aye, you may be right, but
Tarrant, this is an ugly business, and I caution you to watch your
back.”

The next hour saw them finalizing
plans to get documents to their man in France before Tarrant bowed
himself off, saying, “I damn well mean to put an end to this
blackguard!”

Chapter Eight

Aunt Sissy looked around Lady
Rathborn’s ballroom and turned up her nose as she leaned into
Taffeta and whispered, “Cecilia means to outdo me with all these
flowers, and constant champagne, but she shan’t because her
ballroom is too small, and her musicians only passable!”

Taffy laughed and said, “Naughty
thing—but I doubt anyone can outdo the ball you gave me. It was
perfect.”

Aunt Sissy preened and sighed. “The
marquis is just thirty, but remember love, he has a reputation of
being a heartbreaker. He trifles with young maids—so different than
the Hotspur. Bruton takes the innocents and ruins them…”

“
How do you know
this?”

“
I know … and look, Fenmore
is making a cake out of himself for your friend, Catherine, but she
scarcely gives him a smile. What is wrong with the
chit?”

“
I don’t know, something has
made her … cautious,” replied Taffy as her eyes narrowed, and she
made up her mind. “I shall be right back…”

She knew the next dance was a waltz
for she had promised it to some young man, and she meant for Cathy
to waltz with Fenmore. She hurried to them and managed to trip into
her friend, knocking her right into Fenmore’s arms. The musicians
struck up the waltz.

Somehow the young man, whose name she
couldn’t remember, managed to run her to ground and started to lead
her onto the dance floor, but not before she said, “Cathy … do not
sit this one out too. Lord Fenmore, I am persuaded, will not dance
until he has waltzed with you.”

Fenmore winked at Taffy and took
Catherine’s hand and was openly relieved when she allowed him to
lead her onto the floor. Taffy sighed happily, turned, and gave her
dance partner a smile that instantly won her an affectionate
expression.

She had only danced a few moments with
her hopeful suitor when the Marquis of Bruton tapped his shoulder
and ousted him with a derisive remark.

She looked up at Bruton’s face and
said, “That was not nice, my lord.”

A soft, self-assured tone answered
her, “Nothing ever is in love or war.”

“
I am not involved in war …
or love, and prefer … nice.”

He laughed, “I shall have to remember
that, although nice is not something I do very often.”

“
So I have heard, and since
you now admit… I suppose, I must as people advise, be wary of you,
my lord.”

“
You needn’t be, for I mean
you no harm. In fact, I rather think I mean to make you my wife,”
he said nonchalantly.

She was shocked and nearly pulled out
of his hold, “You can’t be serious. You don’t even know me. I can
think of only one reason you would want such a union, and it isn’t
a pretty one!” Taffeta was outraged.

“
You mistake. I know what I
need to know, you are beautiful, titled, and worthy of my
name.”

“
I will not have this
discussion with you. It is most improper!” said Taffeta, pulling
away and inclining her head. “I am sorry … but I am a bit weary and
must find my aunt and take a seat.” Before he could lend her
escort, she had fled him and started wending her way through the
crowd of dancers.

Two strong hands were suddenly on her
shoulders holding her in place, and a welcome voice that nearly
made her lunge into his arms said, “Sunbeam—steady now. Whatever
did the devil say to you?”

“
It was nothing…” She looked
up at him and discovered it took everything she had not to sink
onto his chest and make him hold her tight. He was here; finally he
was with her…

“
Damn the man’s soul—it was
something. Shall I run him through?” he asked and tipped her chin
up, and as their eyes met, Taffeta knew that although he was trying
to make her smile, he would defend her honor. She could see it in
his face. He was ready and able to do battle.

“
No … no … it was nothing…”
she repeated. She couldn’t have a scene, and Tarrant looked as
though he was ready to stomp over to Bruton and lay him low.
Taffy’s heart pumped furiously, spelling out his name, his size,
his magic touch, but he wasn’t letting go of the issue.

“
It was something,
obviously,” he answered on a frown.

“
He said I was worthy to be
his wife.” She seethed as she repeated the words. “He is a very bad
man, and he thinks I am worthy his badness!”

Tarrant stared at her for a long
moment before mirth exploded from his lips, and he began an
uproarious laughter that turned heads. She watched as he finally
got control, and realized how absurd she had sounded.

He took her chin, heedless of tongues
ready to wag, his voice low and filled with pleasure. “Taffeta …
you are a wonder. My complete wonder.” He put her hand through his
arm and said, “Come, let us get some refreshments and take them
into the garden…”

“
Yes, and then, my lord, you
may tell me where you have been,” she said with what she hoped was
a flirtatious look.

“
Did you miss me?” he asked,
his eyes bright as he waited for her answer.

“
I noticed you were not
about,” she answered, giving him a little, only a
little.

“
I am glad of it, sunbeam.
I… There are big guns about to go after the Luddites and squash
them if they can, and the Rogues Three are wanted for treason and
murder.”

Her eyes opened wide, “Treason and
murder? But that is absurd.”

“
Precisely and yet, as I
said—big guns and squashing. I am looking into the matter, for
whoever is behind the London three posing as the Nottingham Three …
needs to be stopped. They are traitors.”

“
Indeed … we can
help.”

“
You and yours had better
stay well away from it. Leave it to me.”

She considered this for a moment.
“Hmm, you may be right. I shan’t even say anything about it to Seth
and Nigel.”

“
Good girl,” pronounced
Tarrant, smiling at her warmly.

“
Why were you absent from
the meeting about the death penalty for the Luddites?”

“
It was a lost cause.
Defeating it—just impossible now.”

Instead of taking her into the dining
room, he had led her outdoors without stopping for refreshments,
and she was vaguely aware he stopped their little stroll where they
were well hidden by a row of evergreens. No one from the ballroom’s
French doors would be able to see them, and she turned to say
breathlessly, “You said you would feed me?”

“
Did I?” His voice was low.
“Will this do?”

She had heard the husky desire in his
voice and the hard determination. She found herself wrapped in his
strong embrace with his mouth covering hers, devouring … tasting …
taking … infusing her with an undercurrent of festering need. Her
longing met and matched his as his tongue lapped at hers and seemed
to drink and taste with an unquenchable thirst.

Taffeta’s response was primal, as she
pressed her yearning body into his, and suddenly it was like an
internal explosion between them that drew and melded them
together.

She clung to him, holding on, and
wishing he would never let her go. She knew she wished he would
take her away, take her completely, and make her his own. She
returned the fervor of his embrace with a passion that swept away
all logical thought.

He handled her deftly as his fingers
explored her and turned her into an unabashed and wanton creature.
Her heart reverberated with a riotous flurry of sensations, and she
never wanted this time with him to end. He lifted up all the
wildness in her and gave it release. She wanted him to take her and
hide her away from the world, somewhere private where she could
explore their mutual needs. She wanted to feel him, all of
him.

He broke away and whispered,
“Taffeta.”

When he said her name, it was like an
enchanted melody that made her tippy toe up for another
kiss.

He chucked her under the chin and
said, “Beauty, you beauty—would that I could call in the debt now,
right now… But, I had better get you back indoors before your
brother calls me out.”

Slap, a splash of cold water. They
were in the garden! Of course, he had to take her back, and yet she
felt herself reel backward from the sudden rejection. He so easily
could put her aside? He so easily could resist her? Was she so
undesirable he could take his kiss and part from her while she was
still floating in the wind?

She had expected words of love and
devotion, of undying need and passion. What she got was totally
unexpected. Cold, calculated logic. He was the rakehell Hotspur,
and didn’t seem even mildly ready to take her to bed.

He should be making assignations with
her. He should want to meet and make love to her. She still
quivered from his touch, and a sure hurt replaced desire. She felt
her protective shields rush around her to protect her as she
answered. “Indeed, and my brother should call you out—fie my lord,
seducing a maid in the garden!” She attempted to make light of
their encounter with a tease in her tone. She started to turn and
walk away, but he grabbed her arm and frowned at her.

“
What are you talking about?
Certes woman—”

She cut him off, “Call in your marker,
my lord, so I can get it over with and forget all about you, for
this is torture—waiting, forever waiting…” A catch in her throat
made the words sound jerky, and she breathed in air trying to stop
the tears that threatened. She could do only one thing at that
moment. She needed to save face and run. She yanked hard out of his
hold and rushed toward the garden doors and back into the ballroom
where she found Catherine, and hugged her fiercely to say, “Cathy,
some men are beasts, beasts I tell you, and oh, do not let me
cry.”

“
Cry? Nonsense. I don’t know
which of them has upset you, but put up your chin and make him see
what he is losing. There is naught like to you, my sweet Taffy,”
said her friend who took her hand and firmly led her to the dining
room. “Cake, is the answer at the moment. We must have cake … all
kinds of cake, and then we will dance with many and forget the
one.”

Taffeta squeezed her hand and looked
at her friend, “Love you, Cath. Yes, we will eat cake, chocolate
cake, and we will dance with many…” She eyed her for a moment and
then said, “And then you will come home with me tonight, and we
shall talk, you and I, just like we did when we were in school, and
you will tell me why Bruton worries you so.”

Catherine smiled and then sighed.
“Yes, I suppose you will hound me until I do, but I won’t until you
tell me which man was a beast to you tonight and why.”

“
Deal,” said Taffeta as she
watched the Hotspur take his leave of his hostess and depart the
ball. This brought back the flood of hurt and tears that threatened
to engulf her, but Taffy was made of sterner stuff, and instead,
she vowed to put the rakehell Hotspur out of her mind with
chocolate, lots of chocolate!

~*~

Catherine Frome’s father, Sir Miles,
sat back heavily in his coach to contemplate the fates, well
satisfied his daughter was safely on her way with Lady Taffeta. He
would have had to send her home alone from Lady Rathborn’s ball, if
he wished to keep her safely out of what they were sure was about
to occur.

Sidmouth and he had come up with a
plan earlier that day and set it about he would be carrying home a
‘packet’ from Lord Rathborn meant for Wellington. What they needed
was to flush out the traitor and had allowed the person Tarrant
believed was their ‘leak’ to overhear their plan.

Frome had instructed his driver to
take the route that would lead them out of the city toward Dover.
He needed to make it appear as though he was indeed quietly
delivering important documents to waiting hands at the
coast.