by Claudy Conn
Taffy adored her friend and was proud of her. She was tall, graceful, and sedate, and Taffy often giggled about how opposite they were. She bounced, but Catherine glided. Even as she stood making introductions, she squeezed her friend’s hand and said, “Cathy, you can’t know how much I have missed you!”
Taffy often thought the two of them were like hot meeting cold and creating warm. After the introductions, Taffy pulled on her friend’s hand, led her to the sofa, and inquired, “Cath, what are you doing in London? I thought after your season last year, you had decided never again would you allow your family to launch another?”
Before her friend could answer, the butler appeared once again, and was amiably set aside as he tried to announce their names, and Seth and Nigel strode jovially into the room. Seth proclaimed, “There, there, Jarvis, no need to announce us—family you know.”
Jarvis inclined his head, “As you wish, your Grace.”
“Much you know…” said Nigel to his nephew in an aside, obviously continuing the discussion they had been engrossed in during their arrival.
“I am telling you, that ain’t the way to handle it,” answered the young duke. Taffy smiled as she saw him suddenly notice Cathy.
He put out his hand and went toward her, as a very genuine smile lit up his fair face. “Catherine … dear Catherine Frome.” He then surprised his sister by taking Miss Frome’s hand and placing a gallant kiss on her knuckles. “Lord…” he exclaimed as he came up from her hand, “you’ve quite grown up, and your eyes … such a blue—”
“You must forgive him his rare form.” Nigel interrupted, appropriating her hand from his nephew. “He hasn’t yet given up his lease of infancy.”
“Cath—ignore these fools,” cried Taffy on a laugh. She had never really seen Nigel and Seth make up to a woman. “Come on, Cath, take off your bonnet and be comfortable, for I don’t intend to let you leave till we have had a nice long visit.”
Catherine took off her pretty straw bonnet and placed it to one side of the sofa while Seth drew up a chair and kept her engaged in conversation. Taffy found she couldn’t fit in a word as Nigel seemed to vie for Catherine’s attention as well.
Taffy rolled her eyes and said, “Gentlemen, the lady is here to see me, not to be badgered by you two…”
Miss Frome laughed and patted Taffy’s hand, “Oh, it is so good to see you, and them as well. You three are always so lively!”
Jarvis looked weary as he appeared once more and announced, “Lord Thurston Tarrant.”
In spite of herself, Taffy felt a wave of anticipation. She knew she was dangerously attracted to the devil and meant to purge herself of this attraction somehow. She had to or own herself lost.
However, when he stood in the doorway, a giant of man, and his piercing dark gaze found hers, she felt herself neatly conquered and very nearly speechless. Perhaps, Taffeta, her inner voice whispered, ‘tis too late, and you are already lost to the rake?
Another voice could be heard behind Jarvis who had not yet left the arched doorway of the morning room. Taffy’s smile grew as everyone looked toward the sound to see who next would appear when Jarvis pronounced, “And Lord James Fenmore.”
Taffy glanced at her Aunt Sissy who whispered, “Both here…” This seemed to take her aunt’s breath away momentarily, and then she added. “At the same time—Fenmore … Tarrant … the two most sought after bachelors in London? Why this will be the talk of the haute ton for the entire season.”
Tarrant made his way directly to her aunt and bent perfunctorily over her hand, “Lady Marble, I am delighted to find you looking so well this morning, and after such a strenuous night.”
“It was perfect, wasn’t it, Tarrant?” she asked conspiratorially.
He winked, and it was obvious to Taffy he liked her aunt. “You know it was.” With this he moved on to bend over Taffy’s hand and audaciously kissed her wrist.
“You are a ravishing minx … even in the morning,” he whispered as his dark gaze swept over her.
She felt her cheeks burn. She had purposely donned a pretty, if somewhat low cut, yellow day gown that fit her well. Why? She had hoped he might stop by. Why? She didn’t want to think about why.
However, as she looked into his bright hungry eyes, she rather thought she knew … she was falling for the scoundrel. No … I must not. She would have to do something to get him out of her thoughts, but how could she? She had a debt to pay … where … when, she didn’t know, but it was hanging over her head. The idea of him taking her into his arms and making love to her both frightened and thrilled her in the same moment. She had to scold herself silently, he is a cad and a rake, a heartbreaker a… She said softly, “Thank you.”
James Fenmore pushed Tarrant aside as he took Taffeta’s fingers and bent over them. “Ravishing. How pleased I am to see you this morning…” He looked to Catherine, and Taffy quickly introduced them, noting his eyes lit up as Cathy’s lashes lowered.
She smiled and looked to Tarrant who had pulled up a chair to sit neatly at her knees.
“Your hair … loose and all about your shoulders … is very fetching…” Tarrant said.
She felt a fool and answered all she could think of, “Thank you.”.
“Do you braid it for bed or leave it … loose like this?” The look in his eyes teased her.
She looked around and noted everyone was involved in hearty conversation and not looking their way. She snapped a look at him. “I like it loose … and I sleep with only my covers to keep me warm…” she whispered. “Is that what you want to know?” Her eyes flirted outrageously. It was as though only she and Tarrant were in the room.
A maid arrived with a tray of refreshments, and Taffy laughed to herself as she watched her aunt make certain everyone was served something as the jovial banter continued.
Tarrant continued to sit close to her, and looked deeply into her eyes whenever the opportunity arose.
“Why do you keep doing that?”
“Doing what?” he asked with amusement.
“Looking at me like that … like you … want to devour me. ‘Tis not seemly—especially in my aunt’s morning room.”
“Would it be seemly somewhere else?”
She giggled. “Nooo, but do stop…”
“I can not,” he answered. “I was not aware that was how I was looking at you.”
“Oh, downright fib…” She gasped.
He laughed and took a pinch of air between his thumb and forefinger, “Just a little one, sunbeam…” He chuckled and leaned back against his hardwood chair, “Right then, tell me, are you enjoying London? I seem to remember you declared you would not, could not…?” The twinkle was back in his eyes.
She dimpled up at him. “Ah, apparently I am more superficial than I thought, for I am enjoying London so far … immensely.” She then eyed him quizzically and said, “Have you brought your high perch phaeton to town, my lord?”
“So you have already heard about my phaeton?” He grinned ruefully and touched her nose.
She found she liked his touch far too much, even on her nose. She regarded him playfully and added, “Indeed, and the matched dapple grays to draw it. I am told you are the best whipster in the land.”
“For once I am thankful for rumors if it wins me your company in my phaeton.”
She laughed sweetly, “Oh yes, I would love a ride…”
“We can go right now.” He encouraged her with a grin.
“No, how can we just leave everyone and go? Impossible.”
“Impossible? Not at all—we will just excuse ourselves.”
“Oh, my lord,” she objected with a laugh. “I am persuaded you don’t have your phaeton standing outside. That would never do for such high stepping horses.”
“You are correct, but I can have them hitched and ready in no time … shall I leave and return for you?”
She pushed at his arm, forgetting herself, forgetting what lay between them, forgetting that very soon he would call her t
o his bed.
“Ah sunbeam, when you look at me like that, all I want to do is…”
Jarvis appeared in the doorway, and because no one paid him the least heed, he cleared his throat and loudly announced, “The Marquis of Bruton.”
All conversation seemed to float into the atmosphere and die as though a sudden fog had descended, and Taffy heard her aunt say under her breath, “Oh no, oh dear…”
Taffy noted her aunt’s reaction, but what she found more worrying was her friend Catherine’s response to his name. Miss Frome went white, and sat quite rigidly beside her, and Taffy bent to her to ask, “Cath… Cathy, what is it?”
“Naught.” Her friend’s voice was shaky at best.
Taffy watched the marquis with interest. He was certainly elegantly dressed. His dark green superfine had been molded to his lean form. His pale cream breeches looked as though they had been painted onto his long legs. His boots sported gold tassels at their heart shaped tops. His face conveyed an expression of boredom, and dissipation, of fast, hard living, but even so he was a handsome buck much in his heyday—or so it seemed to her.
Catherine’s hand strayed into hers, and Taffy felt her friend tremble. Faith, she was going to get to the bottom of this. What was it about Bruton that so worried Cath? Tension seemed to infiltrate the atmosphere and hang like a heavy dark cloud. Obviously Bruton was not liked by the company who surrounded her.
Taffy got to her feet and walked over to her brother, she knew instinctively Bruton would follow, and she wanted to stop him from looking toward Catherine, for she acted like he was frightening her to death.
He did in fact follow Taffy as she came to stand beside her brother and she said, “Seth, what news in Parliament of Wellington, and what is your guess as to his future plans?” There, she thought, that should get the men talking.
“Devil is in it so no one can hazard a guess,” her brother answered with a frown.
“Not so,” corrected the marquis falling, as Taffy suspected, into the conversation. “Everyone has been guessing, but no one knows how far off his guess may be.”
She could see he thought himself very clever. She also noted Tarrant was watching her with interest. It appeared to her the rogue players in the room each had their agenda. Well, well … what is Tarrant doing now? He had risen from the sofa, leaving Catherine to his friend, Fenmore, and was unobtrusively making his way toward her. She felt a trickle of anticipation. She felt a shiver shoot straight up her spine. She felt drawn to him as he stalked panther-like toward her as though claiming possession of his prey. Oddly enough, she wanted him centered on her, even if he presently thought of her as prey. She knew she wasn’t … and she knew what she wanted.
Tarrant spoke to her brother, and she realized at once, the two had developed a friendship of sorts. How very strange, she thought.
“I think you are in the right of it, Seth.” To Taffy, he bent his head and whispered in her ear, “That was neatly contrived.”
She gave him a brilliant smile. He was so knowing—so up on every thing. It was most irritating.
What then, had he had noticed her friend was uncomfortable in Bruton’s company? Had he watched to see how she would handle the situation? Something inside of her lit with pride. He had approved, but something else berated her. Why should I care if he approved or not?
The men went on to discuss Wellington and Napoleon, and she quietly returned to her friend, sat with her, and pated her hand. “What we need, Cath … is some private time,” she whispered and was pleased to see her friend nod and give her fingers a light squeeze.
Some moments later, Tarrant bent over her hand and said, “Tomorrow then, sunbeam—a ride with me and my matched grays?” His voice cajoled, but it wasn’t necessary. She was more than willing to ride in a high perched phaeton for she had never done so before. She was also aware, all too aware, of the disappointment she felt when she realized he was leaving.
“Well as to that, I could never pass up a chance to ride with you in your phaeton, now could I? I am told that to be seen in your company must add considerably to my consequence.”
“Used, abused, and cut down in my prime by a snip of a girl!” he pronounced and chuckled heartily. He reached and tweaked her nose. His friend, Fenmore, nodded to him and said he would meet him at the club later, and returned his attention to Miss Frome.
Bruton descended on Taffy who decided to keep his attention away from her friend. She used flirtatious banter to accomplish this and saw her aunt heartily disapproved. Later, she would have to tell her aunt she was simply running interference because Catherine did not like Bruton.
Sighing heavily when she had a free moment from all these maneuvers, she realized what was most discombobulating was the fact she missed Tarrant the moment he walked out of the room. It was absurd. She wasn’t even sure she liked him—how could she miss him?
~*~
Taffy knew all about Vauxhall Gardens. It was a deliciously opulent place where those who wanted could hide in the darkness and steal a kiss and more—so much more.
Weeping willows hung with a welcoming and sensual invitation, affording lovers their secrets from the curious. Tulips and daffodils were arranged in a wild bold profusion of colors and were deliciously inviting to the eye.
Rogues, ladies, the elite, and the lowly strutted in their own style, as the Gardens were open to all. Youths laughed, dowagers clucked, and nearly everyone there felt at least a moment’s thrill.
It was the beginning of the Season, and Vauxhall was ablaze with torches and the newly installed gas lamps. Music filled the air. Jugglers and jesters paraded in mischievous abandon. Roués ogled, and Lady Taffeta drank it all in with innocent wonder.
“Cathy, are you as astounded as I?”
Her friend laughed and shook her head, “It is all a bit much for me, although I was surprised by Vauxhall the first time I was here last year.”
“It is all so full of wonder and yet oddly appalling at the same time.”
Catherine sighed, and then as though confessing a sin said, “I think I wasn’t made for all this gadding about.”
Taffeta laughed, “Isn’t it absurd, Cath? I swore I would hate London … and here I am enjoying every minute, and you always swore London was just the place for you … and have discovered that it is not.”
At that moment their attention was captured by a jester atop the circular wall that framed an ornate fountain. He lost his balance and tumbled into the water, throwing the Taffy and her friend into uninhibited mirth. When they had eased up on their laughter, Taffeta touched her friend’s arm and said, “There … that is better, you are smiling. Now, tell me before anyone comes to interrupt us, What is wrong, Cathy? For something is, and why are you frightened of Bruton?”
“Taffy … I … we … this is not the place … oh look, there is Lord Tarrant!”
Taffy turned and saw him, and for a brief moment, she was filled with a sensation she could not name, and then she saw an astoundingly pretty woman leaning into him and nibbling with wantonness at his ear.
Taffy felt a flood of emotion and immediately recognized it as jealousy. Jealousy? she silently asked herself. Impossible.
“Who is that beautiful woman with him?”
“Oh, that is the famous Mrs. Connors.”
“Mrs. you say?” asked Taffy surprised. “But … she is hanging onto Tarrant as though he is the only man in the world—and Cath, she has her hand on his backside!”
“She does that and so much more, I am told, with every handsome nobleman she can find.” Cathy leaned in and added, disapproval coloring her tone, “She is the biggest flirt—well, I suppose she does more than flirt, in all of London. You see, hers was a marriage of convenience, and they don’t bother with each other. She wanted his fortune; he wanted to be plush with the aristocracy. He is a mill owner, a very wealthy one.”
Taffy sighed. “When I marry, I will marry for love…”
“I have found that a more difficult thing to
achieve than we assumed when we were in school, Taffy … so much more difficult.”
Taffy frowned but could not pursue it as Seth called out as he approached, “Taffy, only look who I have found here!” He had the husky and amiable James Fenmore in tow. “I’ve invited him to join us in our box … which we had better get to right now for the concert is about to begin.”
As he hurried them along, a squealing sound caught Taffy’s attention. She looked around but did not at first discover its source. Curious, she hung back a few feet, while her brother, with Cathy’s hand in his, continued through the crowd, unaware she was not with them.
She followed the sound and heard the unmistakable yelp of a puppy in distress. It was with sudden blazing outrage that Taffy discovered a group of young ruffians, obviously in their cups, out to have their form of fun with a poor mongrel pup. They were dunking it in the pool near the fountain, nearly drowning the poor hapless thing.
Taffy saw the puppy was all ribs, weak, and frightened to death. She didn’t think as she stampeded them, and with one slapping movement, dislodged the pup from the culprit’s claws and held the wet, whimpering thing to her velvet cloak. “Heathen brutes, just what do you think you are doing?”
The lad appeared unabashed and angry. It was obvious he felt his manhood had been attacked. “Well now … whot we got ‘ere? Quality is it … lookin’ after a mongrel?”
“There will be consequences for what you have done!” she retorted fearlessly as she held the wet shivering babe within the folds of her cloak, heedless of her gown.
“Eh now, that’s me own pup, and oi’ll drown him if oi wishes,” he brazenly answered with a swagger toward her.
Taffy hurriedly stepped back and scrambled into her cloak’s inner pocket and brought out a weighty coin and threw it at him. “There, now the puppy is mine!”
He picked up the coin and pulled an ugly face, “Oi’ll need more than that if oi has to give ‘im up.” He came toward her once more and reached for the pup.
Without thinking, Taffy reacted from the gut, and hauled off and smacked his face with her open gloved hand.
