Taffeta & Hotspur

by Claudy Conn

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She avoided his eye.

  He chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t sure before, but now I am. Come on then Aunt Liz, what is towards?”

  “I only meant you should just leave the stallion be. He is grazing happily in my stud paddock and is happy for the time off, I am sure.”

  “Right … as though you give a fig about such things. What are you up to, Lizzie dearest?”

  “Again, I repeat, I don’t know what you mean.” She busied herself with the folds of her skirt, sweeping away an imaginary wrinkle. Her aged hand then fluttered to the puff of white curls that ornamented her regal head. “Do come and sit with me, Tarrant. There is so much I want to discuss with you.”

  However, at that moment she saw the sound of carriage wheels scraping against gravel draw his gaze to the window. She watched him as he stood rigidly, observing the carriage as it came to a complete stop in the courtyard just within their view. A footman went forward to open the carriage door and a dainty blue silk shoe emerged.

  “Ah,” remarked Lord Thurston Tarrant as he turned and stared at her. His hands clasped behind his back, he leveled a disappointed look at her and said in a tone that displayed a level of hurt, “So then … Et tu, Brute?”

  Her lashes fluttered, “I don’t know what you can mean.”

  He paced, and she could feel his tenseness. She saw the irritation lingering in his eyes. This was the first time she had ever tried to throw a female in his way, and she knew he would be angry. She had not been able to help herself, and even as the sneer marred his good looks and destroyed the smile that had been there only a moment ago, she still felt she had done the right thing.

  “Do come and sit with me, and I shall explain later…” she offered.

  Tarrant eyed her, “I thought myself safe with you, Lizzie … you have never played match-maker before. You know that is why I come and visit you…”

  She sighed. “Tis not what I am doing now.” She was lying, and when he raised a brow at her, she realized he knew. “I simply thought … well, you shall see…” she said as she got up and joined him at the window.

  There they watched the newcomers just outside, and he grimaced at her. She smiled at him and said on a whisper, “She is such a wild young thing … and I thought she could use a friend in London … at the balls…”

  “And you thought I…?” He raised a brow at her again, and his surprise appeared genuine.

  “She is a diamond, Tarrant, don’t you think?” She sighed heavily.

  He wagged a finger at her. “Think you I have not had diamonds enough thrown at me?”

  “Yes, but…”

  ~*~

  The Duke of Grantham, Lord Nigel of Rothbane, and the Lady Taffeta were announced, and the Hotspur stood back and apart to better observe their arrival.

  The ‘diamond’ wore a blue a simple blue redingote which covered an alluring female figure. She seemed to have an easy manner, allowing her to unbutton her overcoat and throw it off to a nearby chair. Hmmm, he wondered, is she a frequent visitor here at Aunt Lizzie’s?

  Next went her matching blue bonnet, displaying bright yellow hair lit with copper, thick with a profusion of curls trailing over her ears and down her back. Her waist was tiny, and for a moment, he imagined his hands holding her waist, and he felt himself get hard…

  He frowned as he made an attempt to stop it, but as he looked at her full breasts, nipples hard and probing the soft material of her gown, his hard-on began to pulse. Hell and fire!

  This had to stop—she was a veritable schoolgirl, and then as she turned fully to him with her aunt’s introductions, he saw her face. Hell and fire is right. She is stunning!

  Her gray eyes were bright with amusement, her nose pert, her lips full and rosy, and he wanted to take her into his arms and drive his tongue into her mouth and…

  “I am very pleased to meet you.” His tone was reserved.

  She laughed. “Are you? You don’t look very pleased. In fact, you are wearing a scowl,” Taffy said, her merriment charming.

  He chuckled in spite of himself, “Am I?” He gave her a false smile. He had to set her apart, to display he wasn’t interested. “Is that better?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Try again when you mean it,” said Taffy, turning her back to him and plopping herself on the sofa with his aunt.

  “Tarrant surprised me with a visit when he arrived yesterday. I was just about to tell him you, Seth, and Nigel were coming for luncheon today when you arrived.”

  “Oh, is that why he is all dark and gloomy?” Taffy teased. “Thought he would have you all to himself? Well, we won’t intrude too long…” She smiled up at Tarrant sweetly.

  He was again taken by surprise. She was at least refreshingly direct, and then he scowled and turned away from her to enter into conversation with the two young gentlemen who were in a lively discussion at his back.

  Taffy entered their discussion about politics, and before long, he found he was actually enjoying himself. Their ideas were innovative, youthful, naïve at times, but definitely interesting. He had never met a woman interested in such matters before. His aunt appeared totally at sea and got to her feet, telling them she would see about getting things ready in the dining room.

  Taffy was off the sofa and standing with them, wagging her finger at her brother with good humor, laughing, pointing out references from the Chronicle, quoting members of Parliament, and fascinating him.

  He was taken aback by her, sure he should not be conversing with such a young chit in such a fashion and yet…

  Her style had caught his interest, and the next thing he knew, he was watching the way she moved. Her walk was a series of bounces—so full of life, and her body looked so damned provocative. There was something in her every step displaying she was happy to be alive, and yet, she was graceful and feminine. She was new, shiny and bright … but he knew better than to fall victim to such charms. She seemed to glide in a whirlwind of unconscious high spirits and displayed sweet affection when his aunt had remarked something amusing. She hugged his aunt affectionately and placed a kiss upon her white cheek.

  “Don’t squeeze me so, child,” cried Lady Watson with a laugh. “I’m too old and will, in all likelihood, crack.” She took Taffy’s hand. “Now … in with you … time to eat.”

  “Is it true they call you the Hotspur…?” Seth asked as they walked toward the dining room.

  His uncle exclaimed in a shocked accent, “Seth!”

  “What?” He took to blushing.

  Tarrant laughed out loud and bowed his head. “The same, sir,” he said as he noted from the corner of his eye Lady Taffeta was studying him rather openly. It was not a surprising circumstance. He had achieved over the years an education in the arts of the female. He had been subjected to maids of many admirable qualities and had suffered more than he cared to remember from their missish airs and coy flirtations. He knew he was a marriage prize. He knew, but it had not always been so. It had not been true when his oldest brother had still been alive with both the title and most of the fortune. He had only been the second son and had been in love with a beautiful woman, but she had wanted more … more than the second son.

  He understood the game, and he loathed its intricacies and its inherent dishonesty.

  They reached the dining room, took their seats, and Taffeta asked him across the table, “That black of yours, the stud we saw when we came up the drive, is magnificent. I don’t think he was here when we were last,” she said and then turned to his aunt, “Was he, Lizzie dear?”

  “Absurd child, what would I do with such a beast? His name is Demon, and he belongs to Tarrant here,” answered Lady Watson. “His lordship is considered quite a horseman, and we believe Demon will let no other on his back.”

  “A Corinthian is what his lordship is.” Taffy’s brother stuck in and then receded into a deprecatory cough. “Or so I have heard…”

  Taffy turned her bright gray, interested gaze back to Lord
Tarrant. “So then, are you saying Demon is the very devil to handle, my lord?” Her eyes twinkled at him, and once again he was mesmerized by her.

  “That he is, in fact it’s how he got his name.” He discovered that against his will, she had drawn a smile from him. He had meant to ignore her to the point of rudeness.

  Lady Watson’s pug, at this point, managed to push open the dining room door, which had not been totally closed. He stopped at the threshold, surveying the assembled group, and with a screeching series of barks, ran over, and dove into Lady Taffeta’s lap.

  She petted the dog with a laugh, saying, “Do stop it, you vicious, adorable little thing. There now, go sit by Lizzie … there is a good boy.”

  ~*~

  With this, Taffy returned her attention to her companions and discovered Nigel and her brother had engaged Tarrant in conversation, and she used the time to better peruse him.

  He was the man from her dream. She had seen this at once, and how she had controlled the fit of coughing she nearly succumbed to, was more than she presently knew.

  At first she thought she must be wrong, but when she looked at him fully, she knew, he was the man … only he had been naked in her vision … and … this was wrong—all wrong.

  He was devastatingly handsome … more handsome than any man she had ever seen, however here, unlike in her dream, he appeared cold-hearted and arrogant. Yes, insufferably arrogant.

  His manners, though polite, had been decidedly aloof. She decided he was probably no better than any London Corinthian puffed up in his own consequence. He could not be the man in her vision. She knew she could never be romantic with such a man … and it was clear he certainly was not interested in her.

  She shrugged him off in her mind and returned her attention to Lady Watson who had smiled and asked, “And so, my child, you will be leaving for London and dear Sissy’s soon? Are you very excited?

  “No, dreading it, in fact,” Taffy said on a heavy sigh. “It is bound to be dull work.”

  Lord Tarrant regarded her, and she was, for a moment, caught up in his gaze.

  “London … dull work?” he quizzed.

  She wasn’t sure if she liked his tone or the manner in which he lifted his dark brow, as though he didn’t believe her. “Yes, dull work, when one considers what it is all about—at least to a female.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Sissy will insist I put up my hair all the time, and no doubt outfit me in the most fashionable gowns and make me hold my tongue and ride sedately and all manner of horrible things, and why? Because I must be paraded and then sold to the highest bidder! Outrageous. The entire thing a bore.”

  “Perhaps.” He grinned. “But I rather think all those things will bring you some measure of entertainment.”

  “No it won’t. The haute ton my aunt so desperately intends for me to enter sounds a dim-witted lot only interested in the cut of their clothes and the latest on-dit.”

  He laughed, and she heard the genuine amusement in his laugh before he said, “You may be pleasantly surprised.”

  She considered this with a wrinkle of her nose. “Do you think so? This is what Nigel and Seth keep saying, so perhaps you are right.”

  “Moppet,” said Lady Watson with a shake of her head. “As though you have anything exciting happening here in Nottingham.”

  “But we do. What of the Luddites?” Taffy bit her tongue. She couldn’t possibly tell Lady Watson what was so exciting about the Luddite movement.

  “Luddites, eh?” said Tarrant. “We had something of a riot last week in the Riding Country. It is a terrible business, and at present, I don’t see a solution.”

  “The solution is to pay these people a fair wage. It is the only solution,” said Taffy with feeling. “Shouldn’t England’s peers work in Parliament to do just that?”

  “Indeed, Taffy is quite right, you know. It is Parliament’s duty,” said Nigel.

  “The only talk I have heard in Parliament about the Luddites is a heated desire to put them to trial,” said Tarrant with a shake of his head.

  “Monstrous!” cried Taffy.

  She found Tarrant looking into her eyes and was caught off guard a moment, but only for a fraction of a moment when he said, “You must feel strongly. Your eyes are alive with gold lit flames…”

  Was he actually flirting with her? She blasted such a thought away. No, he was not; he looked at her like she was nothing more than an ignorant school girl. She was sitting and still managed to put her hands on her hips, “Of course I feel strongly. We should all of us feel strongly. Such things should not be allowed to go on.”

  “However, they are too often a part of life,” he answered quietly. “You are young and a bit naïve still, and as I have no wish to shoot down your ideals, I shall leave it at that.”

  “Well, I am not naïve,” her brother interjected with some vigor. “And my sister is quite correct. We can not allow such things to stand.”

  “Indeed,” added Taffy with strenuously. “If men in your position worked to prevent injustices…” She shook her head and saw he was staring at her again. Was she getting through to him? Did he agree with their point of view? Would he help them in Parliament? “Are you aware, my lord, these people’s working conditions at the mill are not bearable? Are you aware of the pitiful wages, of the dangers from the machinery … the hours they are forced to work?”

  Her brother was clearly drawn in by her passion. “Indeed, Tarrant, they are worked on better than slave labor. They are starving, so they accept anything they can get, and their employers take advantage of that.”

  “Yes, I quite agree with you … their situation is dire, but what they need to do is make active verbal protest. I can’t condone their riots—the smashing of machinery, their attacks of violence on innocent people. Good lord, lad, I have even heard of a group of Luddites here in Nottingham who meets in Sherwood Forest. It is said they have taken to robbing the rich on the highway in the name of Robin Hood with the excuse they are giving to the poor.”

  “And why was Robin Hood admired as a hero for his efforts, and these people scorned?” she asked heatedly.

  “Robin Hood is a legend.” His voice was grim as he continued, “The Luddites are a fact of life, and another fact is they will be crushed if they continue in their present course.”

  Taffy was frustrated, and she allowed it to show. Men just did not think women should involve themselves in politics, and she was heartily sick of this attitude.

  “Well, as a peer of the realm, I for one, plan to do something about it when I get to London,” declared Seth with feeling.

  “Aye,” agreed Nigel. “We’ll take them on, won’t we, Seth?

  Soup plates were placed in front of them, and Lady Watson, with a pleasant smile, said, “Now, enough talk of politics. Cook has prepared a wonderful potato and leek soup, and we must not allow it to get cold…”

  Chapter Two

  It was late afternoon, and Lady Taffy was sparring for wind. Thurston Tarrant, the rakehell Hotspur, was the man in her visions—no doubt about it whatsoever.

  This is, of course, impossible, she told herself. Her dream vision had to be off somehow—could be off? Now and then, she managed to change a vision, not often, but it did change. Oh, this was all wrong.

  She had come home in a great irritation of nerves, changed into her green riding habit, plopped a matching top hat on her head, grimaced at her reflection, and thrown it off. How could she have been dreaming about such a cad of a man? He was a rogue of rogues. He was a heartbreaker … why had she seen him naked and … why had she been naked? What a stupid question. She set this aside. It had to have been some strange quirk of the mind. She wasn’t getting the entire story from the small snippet of a premonition—that was it, it had to be.

  What she needed was a good run to dissipate her confusion and put her back in order. But the thing was, she was in a state of agitation because never before had she met such a man as Thurston Tarrant.

/>   Her brother had said he was the very devil with the ladies. Oh yes, the rakehell Hotspur could certainly have no place in her life. What she wanted when she fell in loved was not a rakehell, but a man who would love only her—faithfully. This one, this Hotspur, would be faithful to no one woman.

  Her brother had said there wasn’t a woman who didn’t want him, eh? Well, she could see Tarrant thoroughly believed in his own myth. Hotspur, indeed! And then her mind’s eye recalled his perfect naked body reaching for her in her dream. She recalled how she felt in her vision, hot and ready and willing. It brought on a wave of heat in the present, and her blood surged through her body. This had to stop. The vision was a mistake … an error … a false dream that meant nothing.

  He was an arrogant, rude, and puffed up in his own consequence sort, and he had been impudent enough to think she was interested in him. Well, at least she had managed quite neatly put any such notions he might have had on that score deeply into the earth.

  She had exchanged dagger for dagger, hit for hit, during lunch and then again just as she quit his company. But the truth was it had not been pleasant, and she had not enjoyed a moment of the cold war he had engaged her in during their afternoon.

  Lady Taffeta had been cosseted and adored all her life. What little she could remember of her mother had been dear and loving. Her father had openly adored her. Seth and Nigel were wont to tease her, but never had they, or any of their friends, treated her with such disdain. More than that, their friends had recently been quite gallant and flirtatious, a circumstance she had been learning to appreciate.

  This Hotspur had the audacity to think she had set her cap for him, so she had spent the entire luncheon trying to convince him of the reverse—vision be damned! The effort had left her breathless with chagrin. These agitating thoughts had taken her stomping toward the stables where she had tacked up her chestnut gelding without benefit of her groom’s help.