Taffeta & Hotspur

by Claudy Conn

  He saw the toby look at his accomplices and frowned. He seemed more worried about them than he did about himself. They had no way of getting to him. He kept the toby’s horse between them, his gun leveled with a viable threat.

  And then he made his decision and aimed his gun not at them but at the lad’s head, and just as he suspected, the lad put out a small hand, and worriedly cautioned, “No … no … then covey … go on … oi’ll do oi will…”

  “Whot? And leave ye? Are ye daft?” one of the two said and then to Tarrant, “Leave the lad be, flash … no ‘arm done.”

  So these three were perhaps family, or very good friends? Brothers perhaps? Tarrant thought as he listened to this exchange.

  “Get out of ‘ere … m’blokes, save yerselves … go…”

  Instead, they shouted threats at Tarrant, and then one toby tried something else, something close to pleading. In a Yorkshire dialect he said, “I disremember when I’ve made sech a muddle of me rig … ye ain’t the right party—no ye ain’t. So if ye’ll let me young brother go, we’ll be on our way, and treble ye no more.”

  Tarrant’s thoughts regarding the punishment of highwaymen was harsh. They were a dangerous lot that often took more than money and jewels…

  But as he held the lad pressed up against his body, something disturbed him about this particular high toby. For one thing, the shape of the young toby’s bottom against his thighs felt … bloody hell!

  Just a moment now … this wasn’t right, there was hint of perfume about the lad—rose water … and hell and fire, he was getting a damn hard-on.

  He twisted the lad around, and both her hood and scarf went askew. Even in the dark and the fog, she was too close for him not to know. He stared into her eyes with complete shock, and for the first time in a long time, he was left totally speechless and totally entertained.

  Oh famous, he thought, if I had been drinking heavily, I would have an excuse for this dream. It must be a dream because this can’t be possible and yet, here she is, the Lady Taffeta—playing at highwayman!

  She made a frantic attempt to pull free, but he yanked her hard. The next thing he knew, he had her spun around where she landed, wrapped nicely, in his arms. Her cloak parted, displaying the blousy white shirt she wore, and her full firm breasts pressed into his chest as he held her close. His other arm went around her trim waist, and he was uncertain just how to proceed from there. I needed to think, for he was so very stunned. This was absurd … but… Damnation and brimstone! What was he going to do? Here was Lady Taffeta in his arms, which meant the two riding with her were the young Duke of Grantham and his uncle, Lord Nigel.

  He remembered her small handgun in the dirt and kicked it farther away and told the two men on horseback jabbering threats at him to stuff it. He was going to allow the lads to save face, but he meant to have a little fun with the lady. She knew that he knew; he had seen it in her eyes.

  He needed time, and so he maintained a gun pointed at her, and told the boys, “This lad is dead if either of you make one move.” His tone was ominous, for if this was a prank, they needed a lesson to wake them up to reality.

  Tarrant could see one lad was nearly foaming at the mouth with fear, and nearly felt a moment’s pity for the lad whose fear, he could see was for the girl in his grip. The lad said, “Now guv, ye won’t want to be ‘urting the lad … it ain’t ‘is fault, ye know, so let ‘im go. Do, and we’ll be calling it a night, even-steven … what ye think of that?”

  He turned Taffy once more and held her rump against his cock, and for one moment, closed his eyes as sensations traveled through him. He managed to set desire aside but continued to hold her tightly as he said on a low note, “Right then, little toby, we shall deal … you and I, because it amuses me to do so.” He looked at the lad he assumed was her brother under the knitted dark scarf and hood. “I tell you what, my friend. I’d be willing to release you two—but not this one. I should like to keep this lad for a bit longer.”

  One toby spluttered to the other, “No … no…”

  And then he said, “Oi couldn’t do without m’brother… Oi would be beholden to ye sir, if ye would let ‘im go…”

  “What could you do for me in return? Naught, I think…” Tarrant meant to teach them all a vital lesson.

  He had seen it in her eyes; she knew he knew who she was, and she then surprised him by saying softly, and only for his ears, “Let them go, and me as well … Tarrant. You may take my promise that I shall repay the debt when you call it in.”

  He grinned wickedly. “Fair enough,” he said and then, to banish any doubt of her future fate in this regard, he allowed his hand to slide to her breast under her cloak and cupped it, lingered there a moment. In a low husky voice, he said, “I just might hold you to it.”

  “Ass,” she hissed quietly, pulling the hood lower over her forehead. He supposed this was for her brother’s sake. She wouldn’t want him to know about the ‘deal’ she had made to save them from this night’s work.

  She moved away from him, and he said lightly, “Go then … no harm and fare thee well.”

  He then set Taffy’s quiet horse in place for her to mount, moved in close to her, and whispered, “I shall see you in London … make no mistake.”

  “I am afraid so,” she answered with a cold note and swung herself into her saddle.

  In response to this, Tarrant laughed, greatly amused.

  What the driver of Tarrant’s coach thought of all these proceedings, he immediately voiced as he watched the three highwaymen ride off into the darkness, “Ye jest going to let ‘em ride off then…?”

  Tarrant only laughed again. “Aye, they aren’t any good at this profession, and I suspect they mean to give it up,” Tarrant said and then laughed again.

  “Will ye still be wanting me to take ye to the tavern, m’lord?” the driver asked with a frown.

  “No, Dods, I think I have had enough entertainment for one evening. Let’s return to my aunt’s and make an early day of it back to London tomorrow.”

  As his coach lumbered forward, the rakehell Hotspur put his head back against the leather squabs and thought of Taffeta. She was a rogue, much like himself, and he fancied she knew the rules well enough, otherwise would she have promised herself away so freely? Why were they marauding people in the night? Why act the part of high toby? Why did her brother and uncle allow it? They were wealthy—nearly as wealthy as he. It troubled him, and the fact that it troubled him was a source of irritation.

  ~*~

  The Rogues Three rode until they were out of sight, and then, all of them breathless, pulled their horses up and allowed the steeds to slowly walk into the thick of the woods. They sat their horses stiffly, each unable to speak after their terrifying experience.

  Finally, Nigel broke the silence and exclaimed, “I can’t believe he let us go. What did you say to him, Taff?” He then turned to his nephew. “Seth, your accent was absolutely prime. Well done.”

  “I am sorry … this is my fault,” said Taffy, changing the subject away from his question. “I had a ‘bad feeling’ when the coach approached and should have stopped us, but I didn’t get enough of a warning in time and absolutely no vision at all…”

  “Never mind that; we narrowly escaped, that’s what—and that Hotspur … how he came out ready to take all three of us on,” said Seth and Taffy caught the note of admiration in his tone.

  “By Jove, yes,” agreed Nigel. “And Seth … did you see the way he managed Taffy’s horse? He kept it between us the entire time while he held onto Taffy!” He shook his head. “We were in a damnable fix, and it wasn’t your fault ‘ole girl,” he said to Taffy. “I mean—what could you do?”

  She thought of her promise to the Hotspur. She had done what she could do, may the fates save her. Would he call in his debt? Or would he simply choose to humiliate her to amuse himself?

  She sighed. “Right then. No time to do more than ride to the meeting now and tell them there shall be no more of th
e Rogues Three. They are retiring.” She stared through the darkness, noticed their shoulders slumped, and smiled to herself. It was time they all grew up a bit and began handling their political points of view in a different manner. She started off toward the small cabin where the Luddites had chosen to hold their meeting this night. Every week it was a different location.

  As their horses weaved their way through the woods to the small clearing that housed a farmer’s cottage, her brother and uncle were still babbling on about ‘Hotspur this … and Hotspur that…’ She rolled her eyes and went deep into thought. Her future now had a black cloud hanging over it, and its name was the rakehell Hotspur!

  “Well, we are done playing Robin Hood,” said Nigel. “It has been good fun … but can’t risk it anymore.”

  “More than fun. There has been a certain amount of justice robbing the worst of the mill owners in the name of the movement—calling out their sins against them while they stand there and hand over their money.” Taffeta added with a sigh as she dismounted.

  “Aye, but ‘tis at an end now…” said her brother, adding his own heavy sigh.

  “The thing is…” said Nigel. “What end does it accomplish? It simply hasn’t served to help their situation, has it?”

  “We need to tell King Lud he needs a new approach,” said Taffy thoughtfully.

  Her brother and uncle looked at her and then at each other, and Nigel said, “She is a knowing one.”

  “Aye,” agreed her brother with a proud tone. “That she is.”

  It was later, much later that the ‘knowing one’ lay in bed telling herself she wasn’t very ‘knowing’ at all. Hotspur was bound to call in her debt to him, and soon, and then what would she do? Would she go to his bed willy nilly? Was that why she had the vision of him naked?

  He was reputed to be a connoisseur of women, a rogue of hearts, and would no doubt subject her to … to…

  She closed her eyes, thought about his kiss, and licked her lips in spite of herself. Faith! She was going to have to add tart to the list of names she was compiling against herself. However, this name did not really make her close her eyes in shame. Indeed, when she thought of being a tart in Hotspur’s arms, she wasn’t ashamed at all.

  ~*~

  It was the end of April in the year 1813, and London was in a convulsion of activity. Jane Austin had captivated the Prince Regent with her Pride and Prejudice, which so very closely mirrored the Regency society.

  Lord Byron amused his peers with his scandals. And Lady Caroline Lamb added to those scandals by taking his book, his ring, and copies of his letters, as she couldn’t bear to part with the originals, and burning them in the public square.

  London’s haute ton lived for these things, and tittered gleefully over every new escapade anyone who was anyone managed to become embroiled in as fodder for gossip.

  As sister of a duke and niece to a lord, Taffeta should have been prepared for such flurries and wayward talk, but the sorry truth was that she was, in spite of her class, only used to country ways, country hours, and country manners.

  She found the haute monde a shallow group of fashion mongers bent on entertaining themselves at the misfortunes of others, and was heartily wishing she could turn on her heel and return home.

  However, her aunt Sissy had plans for her, and her uncle and brother were busy taking their idealistic causes to Parliament.

  Her male relatives had taken lodgings in Duke Street, and she was no longer constantly in their charge. But even so, her aunt allowed her a great deal of license, saying only that she must do her proud and align herself with the match of the season.

  “And who would that be?”

  “There is only one, but no one, not even you with your style, name, and fortune stands a chance of catching him…” Her aunt sighed.

  “And he is?”

  “Why, Lord Tarrant of course,” said Sissy, waving her hand in dismissal. “But forget that … there are others, many others…” her aunt declared as she led her out of the dressmaker’s and then down the street.

  “Really?” Taffy rolled her eyes. “As though I would want such as him!”

  “What? Don’t be absurd, any young maid would want him … faith, I want him…” Her aunt Sissy laughed like a schoolgirl and made her smile.

  A friend called to Sissy and after introducing her, she fell into conversation with her friend. Taffy wandered away to look at the park across the avenue with longing. If only I could just go for a walk alone…

  She turned and bumped right into the rakehell Hotspur himself. He held her in place while she looked up and found his twinkling dark eyes perusing her from her bonnet to her toes.

  “Well, well…” he said softly, and his voice went right through her, all of her, like a caress. “If it isn’t the little high toby in the flesh…”

  “Oh do hush,” cried Taffy with a desperate note. It didn’t occur to her to pull out of his hold, but he dropped his gloved hands and laughed.

  “Blushing? No need, never fear sunbeam, I don’t mean to give you away. I have a better way to call in my debt than to torture you with threats of disclosure.”

  “I am certain you do,” she said ruefully.

  He smirked, “Are you trying to find a way out of your promise?”

  “If I could, I would.”

  He laughed again and touched her nose, “Then I must call in my debt soon, very soon.”

  “You are a scoundrel!” she breathed.

  “How astute of you to realize it, though as yet, you have no cause to say it.” he snapped with a frown, his expression turning dark.

  “Taffy!” called Nigel from across the avenue, rushing toward her and Tarrant with a worried look flitting over his face.

  Tarrant’s eyes twinkled again, and she wondered at it. What did he find so very amusing? She had just called him a scoundrel.

  “Glad I found you…” said Nigel, nodding a quick hello to Tarrant and trying to catch his aunt’s attention.

  “Why were you looking for me?” Taffy was surprised.

  “Well wasn’t, but all the same … need to talk to you…” He turned an apologetic look toward Tarrant, who inclined his head and excused himself to saunter away and down the curbing.

  “Whew, what did he want?”

  “Never mind him…”

  “Never mind him!” said her aunt Sissy, suddenly joining them. “I purposely kept Gertie in conversation so Taffeta could have a private word with Tarrant, and what must you do, Nigel, but burst in on them! How could you? And dearest,” she looked to Taffy, “I did not realize you were acquainted with Tarrant. Of all the good fortune … with all the world watching, his lordship showed a decided preference for you. Oh … this will make your season.”

  “What did he want?” Ignoring his aunt, who went on babbling about the number of passersby who noticed the Hotspur smiling and laughing with Taffeta.

  Her aunt paused to look at her with some interest, obviously also wondering what Lord Tarrant had wanted. Taffy waved it off. “Oh just the usual…”

  Nigel snorted, “I sincerely hope not. Hotspur’s usual is not yours!”

  “Stuff!” snapped Lady Taffeta. She had had enough for one morning of everything and everyone.

  ~*~

  Lord Tarrant moved off, rounded the corner, and entered the hallowed halls of the famous men’s club known as White’s. Lady Taffeta, the blonde beauty, was driving him mad with her pouty cherry lips, her bright gray eyes, and a body that promised sweet passion. Was she innocent or jade? Had she played with the lads when she was away at school? Was that why giving herself away came so easily? Why did it matter?

  It mattered. If she were jade, it would be amusing to wrap her around his finger and make her his own. But, if she was innocent, he could not—would not—ruin her.

  He sighed over the problem. She certainly did not like him, and yet she made the bargain, knowing full well what the payment would mean. Where was the innocent there? Also, she rode like a ma
n with the intent to rob the rich mill owners—no innocent there … and yet, there was something in her eyes and face that told him otherwise.

  One way or another, he was going to find out soon! He was going to call in his debt and see just what she did about it. If she were innocent, she would renege before she climbed into his bed…

  The notion of getting her into his bed immediately gave him a hard-on, and he was barely able to respond when a group of his friends hailed him as he entered the club’s main room.

  A quick survey of the room found Taffeta’s brother at the card table. Tarrant casually walked into the elegant green card room furnished for a man’s comfort and came near the young duke. In his unhurried fashion, he watched him as he laughed and pushed his cards away.

  “Well then, lads, I own myself fairly fleeced.” He began to rise, though his young friends entreated him to stay, and one called out merrily. “Come on, green ‘un, if you leave, where is the use? There ain’t another who will lose his blunt as readily.”

  Seth gave the lad an amiable slap across his shoulder setting up a chorus of laughter, and the duke turned to find himself looking at Lord Tarrant.

  Tarrant smiled to himself for he saw that Seth eyed him uncomfortably for a moment, and he could guess the boy was remembering the last circumstances when they had eyed one another.

  “My lord,” said Seth sounding uneasy.

  “Duke,” said Tarrant amiably—damn if the lad wasn’t blushing. “I have been hearing things about you in the House of Lords. Mean to have a go at them, do you?”

  “Well … someone must. Nigel and I are staunch believers in change.” He waited a brief moment and added,” Our system is addle-brained if it will not accept change with the modern world. We are overwhelmed with the injustices dished out to English subjects…” he grinned looking sheepish. “Do stop me … I know I go on and on, ‘tis a pet peeve of mine.”

  “Not at all. I agree with you, but it won’t be an easy or quick thing, you know.”