Taffeta & Hotspur (7 page)

She turned and her words sounded
hopeful to Tarrant. “Rogue … but do quickly, ask away, for Tarrant,
you are the very specimen of a man … and I like you in your black
velvets…”

He laughed, “Ah Sarah, I can always
count on you.”

Surprise lit in her eyes as she asked,
“What is the devil Hotspur planning? For I swear you are, and it
has naught to do with getting me alone and in your
arms!”

He smiled sweetly at her. He liked
Sarah, but had to walk a delicate line. He had to appear to want
her but stay far enough from the edge. “Lady Marble has it in mind
to strike up a waltz for the first dance. I thought you might
sanction it for Lady Taffeta?” He purposely caressed her with his
gaze.

“
You lecherous thing … she
is too naive for you. Just look at her, a famous beauty yes, but
those eyes … pure innocence.”

He looked at Taffy in her white satin
gown which scooped low over her full breasts. She had chosen to
offset the white with aqua threading throughout, and it was most
charming. Her long, copper-tinged gold curls cascaded from the top
of her head to the middle of her back, and wispy curls ornamented
her forehead and ears. She was completely stunning. “Yes, I am, as
ever a cad, but it is only a dance after all…”

“
It would ensure her season,
and Sissy and I are good friends…” She then rapped his knuckles
with her fan. “Go on then … lead her out for the first
waltz.”

~*~

Lady Taffeta found herself looking up
and into the Hotspur’s smoldering dark eyes, and in spite of
herself, she was conscious of his charm. She felt warm all over,
and a tickle of desire sprang up and teased her between her thighs
in a way that made her want the feeling to last.

He smiled, took her elbow, and deftly
led her away from her aunt Sissy and the elderly nobleman who had
been boring them both. Taffy looked back and saw her aunt had used
the opportunity to escape, and smiled to herself before she turned
a frown to Lord Tarrant.

“
Just what are you
doing?”

“
Preparing to waltz with
you, my lady,” he said glibly.

“
Really? They have not even
struck up the music yet, and I have not been given permission from
the Jersey to waltz…”

The musicians, as though in his
employ, began at that very moment to play a very pretty waltz, and
Taffy’s lips parted with surprise.

He chuckled and said, “And as for
permission…” He nodded toward Lady Jersey.

Taffy looked toward the great lady of
Almack’s, and Sarah, Countess of Jersey, who inclined her head with
approval. Taffeta lowered her eyes in elegant thanks and looked up
at Tarrant.

“
How did you arrange that
with the regent’s woman?”

“
Hush … we don’t say such
things out loud; you never know who might hear and carry it around
that you are gossiping about her.”

She sighed, “Yes, of course, you are
right, and it wasn’t nice of me either.”

She gave herself over to his expert
lead as he tooled her around the ballroom in an exhilarating
movement. Manners dictated she look at him and carry on a light
conversation with him, but she couldn’t seem to look anywhere but
at his chest.

“
I am so pleased you like
it. I’d hoped you would,” said Tarrant suavely.

“
What? Like what?” she
asked, bringing her eyes up to his face.

His smile was genuine, and his eyes
glittered with amusement. “My waistcoat. You seem very interested
in its design.”

She felt herself flush. “Indeed, the
embroidery is unique and sets off the deep black velvet of your
coat…” She smiled devilishly.

“
You have such a naughty
look in those beautiful eyes of yours…” Tarrant said on a husky
note.

“
And the tails of your coat,
my lord, just the right length—oh yes, you are clothed quite
beautifully.” She continued to tease.

“
A younger, less experienced
man would be now yours forever … slayed by your beauty, enchanted
by your eyes, and bewitched by your sense of humor…” he said to her
on a low note.

“
But you are not a younger,
less experienced man, so you are safe,” she said and gave him a
saucy look. “You are all of eight and twenty … quite an old
man.”

He stiffened for a moment, and then
she giggled which must have won him over because he roared with
laughter. Heads turned to see the Hotspur so animated by a
debutante.

“
Does London yet meet with
your approval?”

She sighed. “I have been to London
before … as a child. I was not impressed then, and I am not now …
however, this waltz is quite fun.”

He chuckled. “Lady Taffeta, we are
kindred spirits, you and I.”

“
Do you think so? I do
not.”

“
You miss riding your horse
freely and unattended, I suppose?”

“
Yes … my aunt says I would
be gossiped about and that even I would not find London gossip
mongers an easy thing to contend with.” She remembered once more
the pledge he had taken from her and stiffened.

He seemed to feel it for he
immediately puzzled up and asked, “What is it? What have I
said?”

“
Naught. You have only
reminded me what an obligation I owe you—if I don’t want to be meat
for them to chew.”

The waltz was drawing to an end, and
he would have to lead her back. She knew she had not given him much
time to respond, but even so, she had hoped he would relieve her of
her promise.

Instead, he said softly, “Ah, of
course … which you mean to repay, do you not?”

“
I do not go back on my
word.”

He delivered her to her aunt, bowed,
and walked away.

Her aunt hugged her and asked,
“Darling … your season is made! However did you get him to lead you
out for the first waltz? He has never done so with any debutante
ever before, I do assure you.”

“
Of all the absurd things…”
Taffy shook her head. “That anyone should look my way because
Tarrant danced with me…”

“
It is the way of the
world,” announced her aunt happily. “You would have taken the haute
ton anyway, my dear—why, just look at you. You are a wealthy beauty
and sister to an established dukedom, of course, you would have
been taken, but now…”

And right on cue, two young gentlemen
came to add their names to her dance card. She sighed, for now
there was yet another thing she would be indebted to his lordship
Hotspur for—her popularity. Grrr.

~*~

Tarrant had a nagging thought as he
returned to his group of cronies and watched Lady Taffeta as
imperceptibly as he could manage. The lady actually seemed to be
waiting for him to call in his marker. For some unknown reason this
irritated him. Was she then no more than a thrill seeker? And had
she been with other men? He couldn’t believe this, there was too
much of the innocent about her to be ignored. But, she had plenty
of freedom at home—had she been with the local gentry lads? When he
thought of her in someone else’s arms, he felt like he could put a
fist through a wall … and that annoyed him further. Why should I
care? Because … because, he liked her. Damn if he didn’t like the
little vixen!

And liking her, he had begun to know
her. Knowing her, he rather thought she was the sort who believed
in ‘love’. She just didn’t have the ‘look’ or the demeanor of a
woman experienced in the art of sex. Even her style of flirting was
fresh and light. Yes, she looked an innocent, and yet?

And then he saw her being led into the
second waltz of the evening by the Marquis of Bruton—his enemy and
rival in so many pursuits. He felt bile begin to form in his
throat, and he had a sudden urge to tear him away from Taffy and
throw him out the window. What the deuce was wrong with him? He
felt violence stir up inside of him and couldn’t imagine where it
had come from. He had seen Bruton ruin young maids…

He watched Taffy throw her head back
as she laughed with obvious pleasure while Bruton twirled her round
the floor. He watched Bruton’s hand on the small of her back and
felt an agitation shake him to his core. Damn the man’s soul! She
conversed with Bruton, easily, sweetly, and looked comfortable with
the charmer. He recalled she had not looked happy when he took her
to the floor.

Tarrant moved toward the musicians,
and a notable sum was exchanged. The waltz ended sooner than it
normally would have and when it did, Tarrant stood ready to take up
Taffeta’s hand. She turned toward him—and he knew a moment when all
air left his lungs. Her eyes, those bright laughing eyes, looked
askance as she regarded him, and he swept her with a quick glance,
feeling heat beat a rhythm that pounded out her name in his
blood.

Her voice held surprise. “My
lord…”

He smiled enigmatically and took up
her gloved hand, turning for a moment to the marquis, “Bruton …
didn’t think you would be back in London already.” This was
calculated to sting, for it had been Bruton who had tried to sway a
race in his favor by using his henchman to throw a tree branch in
his way when he rounded the bend in the route. Thanks to Tarrant’s
quick witted and faithful groom, who had noticed Bruton’s man and
followed him in time to stop him and retrieve the long many limbed
branch from the road, he had won the race against Bruton and left
him, once again, red faced and out for payback.

Bruton inclined his head a moment, but
as he withdrew, his smile was all for Lady Taffeta. Tarrant was
annoyed. He had apparently and unwittingly brought Taffeta to
Bruton’s notice by leading her out for the first waltz. He bent and
said softly, “Now, don’t be setting your cap on that one; he is a
rake of the first order.”

“
Faith!” snapped the lady.
“I have sworn to keep my handkerchief out of your path, and if you
forbid me rakes and rogues … la, who is left here in London?” Her
eyes twinkled at him, and he wanted to take her up and
away…

“
Naughty puss,” he said
flirtatiously.

“
Answer the question, my
lord—who should I set my cap for?”

He decided to play along with her
game. “That young dasher there seems a catch, and a nice
chap.”

“
Hmmm, not my sort. He would
not approve of my antics, which I must confess to the man I marry.”
The light in her eyes was dancing.

“
Must you? Why is
that?”

“
Oh, if love is to survive
the rigors of marriage … secrets have no place between a man and a
woman … at least, not important secrets.”

“
And so this chap must know
your foibles and still want you?” Tarrant teased her.

“
Of course … in fact, he
must want me because of my foibles. They will never go away. They
might ease up with time and circumstance, but we are who we
are.”

“
And you? Will you want a
man in spite of his baggage?”

“
Oh but baggage makes us who
we are. Of course, when I fall in love, it will be with my eyes and
heart open.”

“
Yet … you would give
yourself outside the marriage bed?” he asked frowning.

“
If I must…” she said with a
slump of her shoulders. “I … keep my promises.”

“
Look there…” he said
pointing with his chin. “Now there is someone you might want to
drop your handkerchief in front of.” He hurriedly changed the
subject.

She wrinkled her nose, and looked at
another very handsome beau. “No, but I think that one…” She
indicated with her chin. “Look, I like the yellow of his hair and
the way it falls across his forehead…”

“
You don’t … he looks twelve
years old!” Tarrant laughed out loud as they watched the young man
trip and spill his punch onto the dowager at his side. “No, that
one would never be able to brandish a pistol in the dead of night
and hold a carriage at bay.”

She sobered at once. “Stop it. Oh …
how can you toy with me in this dreadful manner? I own that I am in
your debt, my lord, what more do you want of me?”

“
Ah, you own to it, but will
you pay up when I call for it? I think not.” He eyed her, trying to
take her measure.

Later, when he returned her to her
aunt, he bent and whispered in her ear, “An answer … will you come
to me when I ask? Will you repay the debt you owe—for if you like,
I can call in my marker, as you earlier called it, as soon as we
can arrange the time…” He was more than teasing her; he was
attempting to get her to renege.

She put up her chin, “I do not break
my word … to anyone, not even a scoundrel, for you are more than
the rakehell Hotspur, you are the scoundrel Hotspur. Who else would
have taken such a promise?”

He felt the flame of irritation sprint
through him, and he bent low over her hand and said softly,
“Excellent, you will do well to remember it.”

All at once and before he had released
her hand, she felt a wave of dizziness. He grabbed hold of her and
whispered, “Taffeta, what is it? Are you all right?”