Taffeta & Hotspur

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.