Taffeta & Hotspur

She took umbrage. “I suppose that is my business and theirs.”

He laughed. “It certainly would have been theirs had you fallen back there and been injured, fledgling.”

“Well, they are off to a cockfight, and I am quite used to riding about unattended.”

He smiled, and there was a tease in his voice as he admonished lightly, “In addition to the fact you could take a tumble, riding freely as you do, it is not at all the thing for a lady to ride astride and without the protection of at least her groom.”

She put up her chin, “I am well enough known in our village and surrounding area. Who would accost me?” She shrugged this off. “And as to riding astride, I prefer it. Riding in a lady’s saddle is not always an easy or comfortable task. Why we should have to do so is outrageous. Taking a tumble? If I were missing, someone would come looking…”

He raised a brow quizzically, “As to who would accost you—any man with eyes in his head, sunbeam.”

“But any man with a brain in his head wouldn’t dare. There are consequences they would have to incur, and I am no easy prey.”

He inclined his head, and she could see he had decided to change the subject. “Ah,” he said, looking into the distance, “Grantham looks quite lovely from this hill.”

She eyed her home and smiled, “Yes, yes it does…”

“And with it in sight, I am afraid I must leave you, sunbeam, as I am headed for the village.” He tipped his beaver hat. “Perhaps I may see you in London.”

“Perhaps.” She noted black waves of hair fell across his forehead most fetchingly. She immediately banished the notion. He was a hell-bent rake. He was Hotspur, and she was not going to be just another one of his conquests.

She watched as he left her and made for the village road only a short distance off. He turned to wave at her, and she felt a moment’s gratification, which she immediately chastised herself for feeling. In all probability, she would not see him again. His kiss had been a kiss goodbye, and his kiss was something she would remember forever, for she was fairly certain she would never receive another kiss quite like it from anyone else.

Chapter Three

Stars glittered in a dark velvet sky. A moon’s smile was partially shaded by scudding, shapeless clouds. It was a windless night but nipped at the skin with winter’s left over chill, and Nigel shuddered against the cold and the excitement.

The country road had misted over, making visibility for him—and he was certain for all of them—a difficult task. The fog gave no sign of lifting as it meandered through the trees of Sherwood Forest, gaining substance as it made its way.

He looked at his companions and noted grimly they were no more than three hooded, voluminous and darkly caped figures. He hurried to keep up and ahead of Seth who scurried before him through the church graveyard on foot.

Seth tripped over a diminutive gravestone and released a soft curse, and then added, “Devil is in it! I’ve stubbed my toe!” the young Duke of Grantham groaned in pain as he bent to uselessly touch the booted area covering the injured extremity.

“Shut up, ninny!” Nigel returned in as harsh a tone as he could muster in a whisper.

“Bleater!” pronounced Lady Taffeta. “Working the night has its consequences.” His niece giggled.

“You two will be m’death. Sneck up … both of you!” snapped Nigel. He pulled a knit dark wool scarf over his lower face. “And Taff, that ain’t no way for you to be speaking!”

“If I can slink about at night with you, I can swear with you,” answered the lady.

“Shh,” Nigel cautioned urgently.

“What the deuce…” replied Seth.

“Thought I heard something…” whispered Nigel.

“So did I,” agreed Taffy. “Nigel, ‘tis a carriage … it would appear Dirty Barkins is going out after all!”

“We don’t know it is Barkins’ coach,” Nigel said thoughtfully. “I mean, we have it on excellent authority he is home suffering with the gout.”

“Aye, Nigel—but we had two possibilities—one that he feigned the gout to his wife so he could pay a visit to his mistress. If that is true, he would take the short cut through the Forest … wouldn’t he?” Seth stuck in looking thoughtful.

Nigel rapped Seth’s shoulder as his nephew had said something inappropriate to Taffy.

Seth coughed and hurriedly said, “I mean … er … well…”

“Yes, yes, I know, married men have lovers on the side,” said Taff shaking her head. “I probably know more about these things than you do Seth. We girls talk you know.”