Taffeta & Hotspur

Tarrant felt something cold clutch his heart, and he whispered, “Taffy.”

“You have no reason to think it has something to do with—”

“Oh but I do, come on,” said Tarrant, motioning for Fenmore’s driver to move over as he climbed up onto the driver’s bench and extended a hand to Fenmore.

“Do you know, I don’t think I have ever been up here,” said Fenmore as he sat beside Tarrant. “It is damn good fun.”

?

??Hold on James, my man … I mean to make these horses of yours move!”

“There!” He pointed. “I see them … there…”

“Don’t see them…” replied Tarrant, frowning.

“Just ahead.” Fenmore shook his head. “Whatever made them take the hack? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does to me,” said Tarrant.

“Turning—there!” Fenmore’s voice was full of excitement.

“Aye,” said the Hotspur, feeling like the devil on the hunt. “Aye…”

Chapter Thirteen

Taffy’s hand went to her stinging cheek as she backed up against the building. It was dark, and she tripped over something, went down on her hands and knees, and when she stood back up, leaned with her hands behind her back against the limestone wall of the building.

She was in a rage, but she needed to stall for time. They weren’t so deep into the alley that a passerby wouldn’t hear if she screamed. She needed to bide her time and make one last attempt to either escape or call for help. “You know,” she said slowly, loudly, “if Tarrant doesn’t kill you for this night’s work, I shall. You will never be safe again.”

“No? But I will be rich,” he sneered at her.

“Do you think so? You will need to be alive in order to enjoy it, Bruton. So if I were you, I would think about what I was doing. In the end, it won’t be worth it. I can promise you that.”

“Shut up, tart. Just shut up. What do you know about the trials of poverty? I have nothing left. What little my father didn’t gamble away, I have spent in maintaining our lands. I’ll have your money, and that is all I am thinking about. That is all I care about.” He shrugged. “It won’t be so bad for you. I shall not be a difficult husband. In fact, I shall allow you to come and go as you please after our nuptials.”

“Husband? I loathe you and shall never call you husband. Fool—you are a fool. You have not seen past your own immediate needs. You have not seen what the consequences will be. You will never call me wife because you will be dead. I will happily, easily, slit your throat while you sleep if I have to, but I rather think Tarrant will obliterate you from the face of the earth long before that … don’t you?”

Bruton frowned, but she taunted, “Didn’t expect I would escape your coach and ruin your plans?”

“You haven’t ruined a thing.”

“Catherine will tell, and they will know…”

“It will be too late. You will be my wife. I will own your fortune.”

“Tarrant will make me a widow,” she snapped angrily.

He frowned again and sounding infuriated, he answered, “What good will it do him? He will end in prison.”

Taffy had positioned herself as subtly as she could and now used the moment. She swung the board of wood she had been holding at her back all this while, and she swung it with all her might.

She didn’t give him time to duck, and it hit him square.

She charged away from the alley, left it at her back, and was on the main thoroughfare a few moments later, and yelled with all her heart, “Help!”

~*~

They were slowed almost to a stop in traffic, and Tarrant saw her before he heard her. He threw the reins of the horses to Fenmore, nimbly jumped down from the carriage, and began to run.