“Note … no?”
“Aha!” said Seth, “Devil! I thought I saw him slipping something into his pocket.” He shook his head, “Looks like Bruton got hold of it. Devil—the very idea, stealing people’s private missives!”
Tarrant didn’t answer this directly, but he said on a hard low note, “I will have to cut out his heart and feed it to him in pieces.”
“Yes, you must…” And then her pretty features softened once more as she asked Tarrant, “You sent me a note?” Before he could answer, she turned on her brother “Faith … Bruton was at the house? You didn’t tell me Seth, and he stole a note meant for me? This is outrageous.” She turned back to Tarrant, “Yes, do cut out his heart … if you can find it.”
A moment’s silence fell over them as each considered the meaning of Bruton’s behavior, and Seth cleared his throat and said, “Better tell Tarrant now, sis… He is a right ‘un, and he should know…”
She wasn’t about to disclose the fact she had visions. She just wasn’t ready, so she glared at her brother and said, “Seth babbles like a woman. It is nothing. I have very strong instincts, and Bruton worries me, that is all.”
The Hotspur considered her for a moment but obviously didn’t mean to grill her about it as he said, “Then let us get to the point. Rogues Three must never ride again in Nottingham.”
“Right,” said Nigel.
“And their cloaks, masks… I can’t help but wonder where the three rascals hid them,” mused Tarrant looking meaningfully at them.
“Well, as to that…” Seth coughed in his fist. “I would imagine they thought to keep the things as mementos … but wisdom overruled, and we believe the three must have burned their disguises…”
“Ah, they have more brains than I gave them credit for.” Tarrant grinned. “My next question is this. You know I believe we have a problem with imposters here in London … posing as the three and stealing documents meant for Wellington?”
“Villainous traitors!” said Nigel.
“Just so,” said Tarrant. “We mean to set a trap for them, and I want you somewhere very public when we do … just as a safeguard.”
“No one knows… I mean … well…” His voice trailed off.
Tarrant laughed and shook his head, “’Tis done, but we still wouldn’t want anyone making any connections and attempting any … er … blackmail.”
“Damn, no!” said Nigel.
“And one more thing. In the upcoming days and evenings, I expect you to help me keep an eye on Lady Taffeta as I suspect if certain individuals are denied their goals, they may think to … take by force what isn’t given willingly.” He looked at Taffeta and then at her male relatives, “You will have to make certain she does not enjoy the freedom she has grown accustomed to, clear?”
“Clear but…” Seth started on a snort. “Easier said than done.”
“Nevertheless, I believe her well-being to be in immediate danger … for several reasons, and if you can’t manage to keep her in check, I shall.”
Brother and uncle eyed one another, and then Tarrant, a bit skeptically.
Taffeta eyed them all and finally let go with her thoughts. “Now … hold on a moment, all of you. I am very capable of looking out for myself, and I will not be kept a prisoner because of a blackguard.” She eyed Tarrant defiantly, “I won’t be curbed by…”
“Do not test me, my love. You wouldn’t like it, not one bit.” Tarrant grinned wickedly at her, and she found her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again without anything coming out.
Seth beamed, “Aye then Taffy, what say you?”
“I say, I know well enough how to watch my back, and so I shall—so should we all.”
Chapter Eleven
The four left the coffeehouse, but their chattering continued. Taffy noted to herself how quiet and thoughtful Tarrant appeared. She was also aware that his fingers caressed her cloak as they stepped outdoors.
Nigel turned to Tarrant, “Do you come to m’aunt’s with us for there are a few questions I still have for you, Tarrant?”
“Aye, have one or two, m’self,” said Seth looking his way.
Taffeta smiled at Tarrant and urged in hopeful accents, “Do come with us…” Her voice was soft and cajoling, because all she knew was she wanted his company forever. As she spoke, she stepped backward and did not realize she had stepped to the edge of the curbing, tripped there, lost her balance, and wind-milled her arms. This spooked a horse being walked by a lackey. She saw everything that happened flash before her eyes. The skittish horse reared up and came down before she could jump out of the way, and its left hoof caught her soundly, freakishly just below her bosom.
The lackey yanked on the poor spooked horse and pulled him to order with a sharp reproof, but the damage was already done, and Taffy was bent over in pain. As she attempted to straighten up, she squeaked out, “Lord, flush hit…”