Taffeta & Hotspur (14 page)

He told himself, this was all absurd…
He was more than fifty years old, and a man his age should not be
engaging in such dangerous pastimes. But this was for country—for
his beloved Albion!

The Rogues Three had to be flushed
out, Miles thought and then something caught his attention. A quick
glance out the side window told him there were darkly clad riders
emerging from an alley, and he had no doubt what they would do
next.

Miles Frome heard the sound of horses’
shoes on cobblestone and knew they were getting closer. He saw they
had passed an arched opening to an alleyway near the wharf
overlooking the Thames. He had told his driver to take a dimly lit
shortcut, something he normally would not have done. And then, just
as he had expected, he felt the coach lurch.

He heard one of the men on horseback
growl, “This time, there will be no sport in it. I want that
understood.”

Sidmouth frowned. Somehow, even
disguised, that voice sounded familiar. Evidently he was the
leader, and still giving last minute instructions?

“
Aye Flash, we knows whot ye
want,” said the another man.

Sir Miles waited as they came to the
door of his coach waving their horse pistols and threatening his
driver with ‘Stand and Deliver!’

~*~

Lady Taffeta poured out the hot water
from her silver ewer into her washbasin, sighed, and continued to
jibber jabber at her friend as she washed her face. She had
dismissed her maid, telling her to get some rest, that she and Miss
Frome would see to themselves.

Catherine laughed and cried out,
“Enough … stop hounding me, you miserable wretch who must know
all.”

She had already washed and changed
into one of Taffy’s pretty white nightdresses and was curled up on
the settee with a shawl wrapped around her.

“
Well, you can save yourself
a great deal of trouble by just telling me what the devil Bruton
did to make you so … uncomfortable in his presence.”

“
First, you tell me what is
toward with you and the gentleman you called a ‘beast’,” replied
Cathy knowingly.

“
Whatever are you talking
about?”

“
Odious thing, you are
forever in my business—like tonight when you pushed me into Lord
Fenmore so that he must ask me to waltz…” Cathy sighed. “And we
both know it is you he wants…”

“
Idiot. Complete and total
idiot … me? Nonsense—stupid girl. Anyone with eyes in their head
can see he is mad about you.”

“
But, he is always talking
to you…”

“
Yes, to ask me how he
should go about catching your interest,” Taffy said and burst out
laughing. “My dearest friend is a moron.”

Catherine flung a nearby pillow at her
friend’s head, “I won’t have you matchmaking for me…”

“
Stuff and nonsense. I did
very well by you in Southwell when we were at school, didn’t
I?”

“
Yes, but that was different
… that was just fun and games and growing up…”

“
So tell me about Bruton,”
demanded Taffeta, getting serious and coming to sit near her on the
settee.

“
Naught to tell,” replied
Miss Frome quietly.

“
Rumor has it he is a
complete and utter devil with young ladies…” Taffy really would not
give up.

“
Is he?”

“
Yes, although I think he is
so much fun.” Taffy tried a new tactic.

Catherine grabbed her hand. “No … do
not let him bamboozle you, Taffy.” She sighed heavily and lowered
her head. “Did you never wonder why I was sent home from my first
season in such disgrace?”

“
Disgrace? I never heard
anything about disgrace… I just thought you went home because of
something to do with your aunt,” Taffy said in shocked accents. “In
fact, I remember now, your letter said your aunt was tired of
playing hostess.”

“
It was a lie, and I thought
a feeble one at the time, but it seems Papa did such a good job of
scotching the gossip, it was not as bad as I thought it would
be.”

“
Gossip? You?” Taffy shook
her head. “I don’t believe my quiet, serious minded, good girl
Cathy could give anyone fodder for gossip.”

“
You see I… Bruton…”
Catherine stumbled on the words.

“
Oh no, never say you fell
in love with the devil and thought yourself lovesick and went into
a decline?”

“
You are a wretch for
putting it that way, but I suppose, yes, to some extent that is
what happened … and I let him kiss me, and Taffy… I let him … touch
me…”

“
Bed you? Did he bed you?”
said Taffy standing up. “I will run him through myself if he bed
you and hurt you!”

She pulled on Taffy’s hand and made
her sit again, “No, not quite but nearly. I was so very infatuated
and thought, stupidly, he wanted to marry me, but all he really
wanted was to add another virgin to his collection.”

“
I shall run him through—he
is a criminal,” said Taffy, temper flaring, eyes
narrowing.

“
Papa caught us—that day
when I nearly lost myself to him. Oh Taff… He walked in on us, and
Bruton told him he had no intention of marrying such a girl as I.
Can you imagine my mortification? And there was poor dear Papa, and
he threw a punch at Bruton, and it was awful … and then Bruton
started the gossip. We don’t know for sure it was him who started
it, but he was the only one who could have known anything about the
incident. I can’t bear to look at him, and when I do, I am reminded
what a complete fool I was.”

“
Never you mind. You were
not a fool, he was a cad. Do not blame yourself for his
unprincipled behavior. There is an old saying that what goes around
… comes around, and it has great meaning.” She went very thoughtful
for a moment and then with determination in her voice said, “Your
dowry would never do for him, but you see … mine would. He is very
interested in my dowry.”

“
Taffeta, what are you
planning in that mad mind of yours?”

“
Bruton thinks naught of
seducing virgins and leaving them to fend for themselves. Well, it
is time I made good on that old saying and bring things around
neatly and dump them in his lap. I have heard talk about his debts.
He must be desperate for immediate funds. I mean to open his eyes
to the money that would be at his disposal if I were to accept to
marry him.”

“
Taffy… Oh no, Taffy. Just
stay away from him.”

“
No, I mean to bring the
blackguard low. I mean for him to center his efforts on one, just
one … me, and then I mean to blow his chances sky high!” Taffeta
hugged her friend fiercely. “He is a bad man … to the heart, bad,
and deserves what I have planned for his future.”

~*~

Sir Miles made something of a show as
he flung the brown wrapped packet behind him on the coach seat, and
stepped out of his conveyance to glare defiantly at the three
darkly clad high toby riders.

His steely colored brows drew
together. Their voices were muffled, and although he couldn’t quite
recognize any, one seemed to stand out…

“
What did you throw back in
the carriage? Never mind … get it and hand it over,” said the tall
toby whose voice sounded somehow refined in spite of the low hoarse
tone he used.

“
It was naught,” he answered
evasively.

“
Get it now!” The tall one
who appeared to be in charge rasped at him threateningly as he
waved a gun at him.

He did as he was ordered but attempted
to delay and argued, “Take whatever belongings I have … but not
this packet.” He held it to his heart hoping he was not being too
dramatic.

The tall toby rider grabbed it from
him and put it in his saddle’s satchel.

“
But for your country’s sake
… leave me the packet,” pleaded Sir Miles. There was just enough
information in the packet to make it look authentic and to trap the
villains at a later date.

“
Country, is it?” asked the
smallest of the highwaymen. He turned to the man in charge and
said, “Whot is this? We don’t need to be taking…”

“
Shut your stupid mouth and
get on your horse,” growled the man in charge in a voice that once
more made Frome hear something familiar in it.

A few moments later, he watched them
ride off into the darkness and answered his driver’s harangue of
questions simply, “No we will not set up a call for the Watch.
Let’s head for Lord Sidmouth’s establishment
immediately.”

Chapter Nine

Two days later

Tarrant sat up in bed and held his
head against the morning’s light. Damnation, but what had he done
to himself last evening? After the Rathborn ball, he had sworn to
himself he would steer clear of Lady Taffeta. However, he wasn’t
able to stop himself, and off he went last evening to yet another
ball where she was bound to be attending. All he knew was he had a
physical need to see her, a heart wrenching desire to touch her,
and bloody hell … there she was right before his very eyes and what
the bloody hell was she doing? Flirting outrageously with
Bruton—that’s what he found, and it drove him to the brink of
madness.

The pair had made a great show of
liking one another. They laughed and teased, and she batted her
thick lashes at Bruton, and he didn’t know who he wanted to rant at
more. Hell and brimstone, why hadn’t her brother, her uncle, her
aunt… Why hadn’t any of them stopped her from her audacious
display?

Bruton had actually taken her on the
floor to waltz three times! Even he would not do such a thing.
Everyone had remarked upon it. He had watched them from his corner,
and his ominous mood had brought him to the brink of losing
control. When he noticed his friend Fenmore leaning into Miss
Frome, he stormed to their side, if nothing more than to discover
what the little Taffeta’s game was.

“
What is she doing,
Catherine?” Fenmore frowned as he watched Lady Taffeta making eyes
at Bruton.

“
Do not worry about my
Taffy. She knows full well what she is doing. There is only one
person who will get hurt in her little show, and it won’t be
her.”

“
Really?” Tarrant remarked
as he overheard this. “And why is that?”

Catherine Frome blushed and quietly
answered, “Because she knows what she is doing. Always
does.”

“
Not this time…” Fenmore
retorted. “She will have all the gossip mongers chattering about
her if she doesn’t bring it down a notch.

“
No, I don’t think so. She
is sister to the Duke of Grantham and wealthy enough to gain her a
great deal of leeway.” Tarrant answered. “But what is her
game?”

“
Oh… I am hungry, James…?”
Catherine said obviously trying to change the subject.

He jumped to offer his arm. “Shall I
take you to the dining room, then?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “I would be
so very grateful.”

James Fenmore turned to Tarrant. “Do
you join us?”

Tarrant laughed. “No, I wouldn’t dream
of it.” It was obvious his friend had received his coup de gras,
and that the lady returned his ‘feelings’. He was happy for him but
miserable for himself. He couldn’t come to grips with what he was
feeling for Lady Taffeta—didn’t want to face it, and damn well
didn’t like seeing her with Bruton for many reasons, but one reason
headed the list. Down right possessive jealousy! Him—jealous? He
had thought he would never feel that way about a woman ever
again.

The feel of Taffeta’s sweet lips
pressed against his as he parted them, jarred his mind, and the
memory was vivid. He could almost taste her once more as his tongue
had lapped against hers. Certes, what a perfect, delicious, promise
of passion she was! What a contradiction of everything he believed
was so. What a desirable, quixotic beauty. What wonderful laughing
eyes.

She had his head spinning, seemingly
attracted to him one moment and then flirting with Bruton the next.
Just what was she doing? He had left the soiree early and had gone
to a favorite tavern where he had met some of his cronies and drank
more than he usually did. Now he had an aching head, and if he
admitted it to himself, a heart that did not feel much
better.

The next thing he knew, he was on the
street hailing a hackney and directing it to Lady Marble’s
townhouse where he was sure to find Taffy at home at such an early
hour.

He was met by Jarvis at the door, but
was told Lady Marble had gone off for the entire day with friends.
He frowned and then asked, “Perhaps Lady Taffeta is at home?” He
shouldn’t be calling on her when she was unchaperoned, but damn,
the thought of getting her alone excited him!

As Jarvis began to lead him forward,
he called him off, “I know the way and shall show myself in…” He
ignored the mild objection Jarvis tried to stop him with and
hurried to the morning room.

He opened the door and stood
transfixed a moment as he contemplated Lady Taffeta’s profile in
the sunlight. Ravishing! From the top of the blue confection of
ribbons threaded through her yellow hair to the toe of her blue
slipper, just peeping out under her gown.