Taffeta & Hotspur

He should be making assignations with her. He should want to meet and make love to her. She still quivered from his touch, and a sure hurt replaced desire. She felt her protective shields rush around her to protect her as she answered. “Indeed, and my brother should call you out—fie my lord, seducing a maid in the garden!” She attempted to make light of their encounter with a tease in her tone. She started to turn and walk away, but he grabbed her arm and frowned at her.

“What are you talking about? Certes woman—”

She cut him off, “Call in your marker, my lord, so I can get it over with and forget all about you, for this is torture—waiting, forever waiting…” A catch in her throat made the words sound jerky, and she breathed in air trying to stop the tears that threatened. She could do only one thing at that moment. She needed to save face and run. She yanked hard out of his hold and rushed toward the garden doors and back into the ballroom where she found Catherine, and hugged her fiercely to say, “Cathy, some men are beasts, beasts I tell you, and oh, do not let me cry.”

“Cry? Nonsense. I don’t know which of them has upset you, but put up your chin and make him see what he is los

ing. There is naught like to you, my sweet Taffy,” said her friend who took her hand and firmly led her to the dining room. “Cake, is the answer at the moment. We must have cake … all kinds of cake, and then we will dance with many and forget the one.”

Taffeta squeezed her hand and looked at her friend, “Love you, Cath. Yes, we will eat cake, chocolate cake, and we will dance with many…” She eyed her for a moment and then said, “And then you will come home with me tonight, and we shall talk, you and I, just like we did when we were in school, and you will tell me why Bruton worries you so.”

Catherine smiled and then sighed. “Yes, I suppose you will hound me until I do, but I won’t until you tell me which man was a beast to you tonight and why.”

“Deal,” said Taffeta as she watched the Hotspur take his leave of his hostess and depart the ball. This brought back the flood of hurt and tears that threatened to engulf her, but Taffy was made of sterner stuff, and instead, she vowed to put the rakehell Hotspur out of her mind with chocolate, lots of chocolate!

~*~

Catherine Frome’s father, Sir Miles, sat back heavily in his coach to contemplate the fates, well satisfied his daughter was safely on her way with Lady Taffeta. He would have had to send her home alone from Lady Rathborn’s ball, if he wished to keep her safely out of what they were sure was about to occur.

Sidmouth and he had come up with a plan earlier that day and set it about he would be carrying home a ‘packet’ from Lord Rathborn meant for Wellington. What they needed was to flush out the traitor and had allowed the person Tarrant believed was their ‘leak’ to overhear their plan.

Frome had instructed his driver to take the route that would lead them out of the city toward Dover. He needed to make it appear as though he was indeed quietly delivering important documents to waiting hands at the coast.

He told himself, this was all absurd… He was more than fifty years old, and a man his age should not be engaging in such dangerous pastimes. But this was for country—for his beloved Albion!

The Rogues Three had to be flushed out, Miles thought and then something caught his attention. A quick glance out the side window told him there were darkly clad riders emerging from an alley, and he had no doubt what they would do next.

Miles Frome heard the sound of horses’ shoes on cobblestone and knew they were getting closer. He saw they had passed an arched opening to an alleyway near the wharf overlooking the Thames. He had told his driver to take a dimly lit shortcut, something he normally would not have done. And then, just as he had expected, he felt the coach lurch.

He heard one of the men on horseback growl, “This time, there will be no sport in it. I want that understood.”

Sidmouth frowned. Somehow, even disguised, that voice sounded familiar. Evidently he was the leader, and still giving last minute instructions?

“Aye Flash, we knows whot ye want,” said the another man.

Sir Miles waited as they came to the door of his coach waving their horse pistols and threatening his driver with ‘Stand and Deliver!’

~*~

Lady Taffeta poured out the hot water from her silver ewer into her washbasin, sighed, and continued to jibber jabber at her friend as she washed her face. She had dismissed her maid, telling her to get some rest, that she and Miss Frome would see to themselves.

Catherine laughed and cried out, “Enough … stop hounding me, you miserable wretch who must know all.”

She had already washed and changed into one of Taffy’s pretty white nightdresses and was curled up on the settee with a shawl wrapped around her.

“Well, you can save yourself a great deal of trouble by just telling me what the devil Bruton did to make you so … uncomfortable in his presence.”

“First, you tell me what is toward with you and the gentleman you called a ‘beast’,” replied Cathy knowingly.

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Odious thing, you are forever in my business—like tonight when you pushed me into Lord Fenmore so that he must ask me to waltz…” Cathy sighed. “And we both know it is you he wants…”

“Idiot. Complete and total idiot … me? Nonsense—stupid girl. Anyone with eyes in their head can see he is mad about you.”

“But, he is always talking to you…”

“Yes, to ask me how he should go about catching your interest,” Taffy said and burst out laughing. “My dearest friend is a moron.”