Taffeta & Hotspur - Page 28

“And brought their little ken here to London, if rumor is to be believed—besides, should they not be punished for their acts in Nottingham?”

“Not our job. The local authority is looking into it, and I don’t believe that little band is one and the same with the three working London.” Tarrant shrugged and looked away.

“My information may be wrong, but if the Rogues Three are merely mimicking their Nottingham counterparts or not, they still must be stopped.”

“Indeed, I quite agree. These three scoundrels have a completely different style. I can tell you that, as when I was visiting with my aunt, I was in a position to learn a great deal, and those three never injured the mill owners they robbed. Our London three are murderers and traitors!” Tarrant said impatiently.

“If word of our plans leaks to Napoleon…”

“Then whoever these London Three are, we must not allow anything ‘important’ to be leaked their way. I have a thought on the subject.”

“Aye, you may be right, but Tarrant, this is an ugly business, and I caution you to watch your back.”

The next hour saw them finalizing plans to get documents to their man in France before Tarrant bowed himself off, saying, “I damn well mean to put an end to this blackguard!”

Chapter Eight

Aunt Sissy looked around Lady Rathborn’s ballroom and turned up her nose as she leaned into Taffeta and whispered, “Cecilia means to outdo me with all these flowers, and constant champagne, but she shan’t because her ballroom is too small, and her musicians only passable!”

Taffy laughed and said, “Naughty thing—but I doubt anyone can outdo the ball you gave me. It was perfect.”

Aunt Sissy preened and sighed. “The marquis is just thirty, but remember love, he has a reputation of being a heartbreaker. He trifles with young maids—so different than the Hotspur. Bruton takes the innocents and ruins them…”

“How do you know this?”

“I know … and look, Fenmore is making a cake out of himself for your friend, Catherine, but she scarcely gives him a smile. What is wrong with the chit?”

“I don’t know, something has made her … cautious,” replied Taffy as her eyes narrowed, and she made up her mind. “I shall be right back…”

She knew the next dance was a waltz for she had promised it to some young man, and she meant for Cathy to waltz with Fenmore. She hurried to them and managed to trip into her friend, knocking her right into Fenmore’s arms. The musicians struck up the waltz.

Somehow the young man, whose name she couldn’t remember, managed to run her to ground and started to lead her onto the dance floor, but not before she said, “Cathy … do not sit this one out too. Lord Fenmore, I am persuaded, wi

ll not dance until he has waltzed with you.”

Fenmore winked at Taffy and took Catherine’s hand and was openly relieved when she allowed him to lead her onto the floor. Taffy sighed happily, turned, and gave her dance partner a smile that instantly won her an affectionate expression.

She had only danced a few moments with her hopeful suitor when the Marquis of Bruton tapped his shoulder and ousted him with a derisive remark.

She looked up at Bruton’s face and said, “That was not nice, my lord.”

A soft, self-assured tone answered her, “Nothing ever is in love or war.”

“I am not involved in war … or love, and prefer … nice.”

He laughed, “I shall have to remember that, although nice is not something I do very often.”

“So I have heard, and since you now admit… I suppose, I must as people advise, be wary of you, my lord.”

“You needn’t be, for I mean you no harm. In fact, I rather think I mean to make you my wife,” he said nonchalantly.

She was shocked and nearly pulled out of his hold, “You can’t be serious. You don’t even know me. I can think of only one reason you would want such a union, and it isn’t a pretty one!” Taffeta was outraged.

“You mistake. I know what I need to know, you are beautiful, titled, and worthy of my name.”

“I will not have this discussion with you. It is most improper!” said Taffeta, pulling away and inclining her head. “I am sorry … but I am a bit weary and must find my aunt and take a seat.” Before he could lend her escort, she had fled him and started wending her way through the crowd of dancers.

Two strong hands were suddenly on her shoulders holding her in place, and a welcome voice that nearly made her lunge into his arms said, “Sunbeam—steady now. Whatever did the devil say to you?”

Tags: Claudy Conn Historical
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