Taffeta & Hotspur

She was a lovely piece of bit and fluff, and he was sure to enjoy an hour’s frolic with her in her bed, but…

“I am afraid not, lovely lady; I am already otherwise promised.” He watched her pout and laughed to himself as he waved and tooled his horses back into traffic. He pulled up at Lady Marble’s townhouse, and nimbly planted himself on the curbing, giving the ribbons to the young groom acting as his tiger. “Right then, Jason, I shan’t be long, but walk them if need be.”

“That oi will, m’lord,” said the lad grinning, obviously proud to work for Tarrant. “Probably will ‘ave to if ye’ve come fer a loidy … all of ‘em keep them standing too long.”

Tarrant laughed and pulled the peak of the boy’s wool cap down over his eyes, “Cheeky, but you are right. I don’t think this lady will keep us waiting though. She is a bit different than most of her kind.”

He skipped up the steps and found Jarvis very civil as he showed him inside. He didn’t have to wait at all. As he suspected, Taffeta must have been waiting at the top of the stairs she was presently bouncing down toward him.

She was a vision of cheery life, an alluring figure clothed in a fitted aqua velvet driving ensemble designed to display her provocative figure. Her long, highly dressed, copper lit gold curls cascaded down one elegant shoulder. On her tilted head rested a chip hat of matching aqua with netting and one twirling white feather. Short thick wisps of her hair ornamented her forehead and ears, and her bright gray eyes twinkled impishly, without a hint of what had passed between them the previous evening in her bedroom. He could see she meant to put it aside and be comfortable. She was more than stunning, and everything about her took his breath away.

As she came toward him, he discovered he had lost the ability to breathe. The rakehell Hotspur, gourmet of women, prince of flirts, proponent of cynicism, received his leveler completely in that moment. And then, he attempted, with careful reserve, to vanquish it. He told himself he had recognized she was incomparable at their first meeting. So, what was this? She is not for me … not for me, he repeated silently.

With a calm demeanor, he went forward to greet her, and again, all built-in resolves were shaken, for what must she do but take his hand and shake it famously.

“My lord…” declared Lady Taffeta, still holding onto his kid gloved hand, stepping back to eye him with teasing admiration. “My, but you do look an out-and-outer, a regular dasher, a…”

He felt his lips quiver, but he restrained the bubble of mirth and admonished sweetly, “Take a damper, sunbeam. We made one another a promise—I don’t seduce, you don’t throw your cap…”

“Ah, but you did not promise to not seduce, and I think that is what you have been trying to do to me—soooo, if my cap falls at your feet, you have no one to blame but yourself,” said the lady glibly, and her bright gray eyes laughed at him. “And you really do look absolutely—”

“Ravishing.” He cut her off. “I know. I always mean to.” He led her toward the front door.

“Oh, there you are…” cried Lady Marble, sticking her face out of her morning room to wave them off. “Such a lovely day for a ride.” She eyed Tarrant. “Don’t you dazzle my niece, sir, for I shall hold you to account.”

He laughed out loud. “You needn’t worry, my lady, Taffeta and I have quite agreed, we are both quite off limits to one another.”

“Oh?” replied her ladyship on a note of disappointment. “Pity.”

With this last, he led Lady Taffeta toward his waiting phaeton.

Taffy leaned into him and said on a giggle, “What you need is to be set down a peg. You are far too lofty, you know.”

“Where is your puppy?” he asked, effectively changing the subject.

“Oh, the dear little man ate most of his breakfast and even tried hobbling about. He is so very weak but getting better. He is in the nether regions of the kitchen as cook is very fond of dogs and will look after him while I am gone.” She sighed. “He slept most of the night and only whimpered once for me…”

“And what did you do when he whimpered?” He found he couldn’t look away from her eyes.

She smiled softly and sighed again. “I cuddled him and put him back to sleep. We gave him fresh paper in his basket this morning, but cook has a method of housebreaking … and will start teaching him as soon as he is strong enough. In the meantime, I have promised to help her clean up his basket and supply her with fresh newspaper, so we must get a great deal of them…”

He burst out laughing and helped her into the carriage, “Yes, I am familiar with the method of housebreaking a pup.” He shook his head and laughed again. Never was there such a chit! Her conversation was so natural, and he almost allowed the thought to enter his head, But love? No, love could not, would not work for him. He didn’t believe in love—it was no more than … no… love was an impossible emotion, and he certainly was not about to—

“Tell me, my lord…” said the lady, bringing him out of his cogitations. “Have you been abroad?”

“Aye…”

“Not just to Paris, where my parents took us when we were still so young, but—”

He grinned, “Yes, I know what you are asking. One of my favorite places was Venice.”

“Oh, I do so want to go to Venice … gondolas and history and Italians.”

He laughed once again as he tooled his horse through the London traffic toward Hyde Park. “You are a wonder. I never know what is in that busy brain or what you will say next.”

“I hear Italy has some very plausible rascals?” she asked ignoring this.

“Aye, you would find yourself very comfortable there,” he answered teasingly.