“Perhaps.” He grinned. “But I rather think all those things will bring you some measure of entertainment.”

“No, it won’t. The haute ton my aunt so desperately intends for me to enter sounds a dim-witted lot only interested in the cut of their clothes and the latest on-dit.”

He laughed, and she heard the genuine amusement in his laugh before he said, “You may be pleasantly surprised.”

She considered this with a wrinkle of her nose. “Do you think so? This is what Nigel and Seth keep saying, so perhaps you are right.”

“Moppet,” said Lady Watson with a shake of her head. “As though you have anything exciting happening here in Nottingham.”

“But we do. What of the Luddites?” Taffy bit her tongue. She couldn’t possibly tell Lady Watson what was so exciting about the Luddite movement.

“Luddites, eh?” said Tarrant. “We had something of a riot last week in the Riding Country. It is a terrible business, and at present, I don’t see a solution.”

“The solution is to pay these people a fair wage. It is the only solution,” said Taffy with feeling. “Shouldn’t England’s peers work in Parliament to do just that?”

“Indeed, Taffy is quite right, you know. It is Parliament’s duty,” said Nigel.

“The only talk I have heard in Parliament about the Luddites is a heated desire to put them to trial,” said Tarrant with a shake of his head.

“Monstrous!” cried Taffy.

She found Tarrant looking into her eyes and was caught off guard a moment, but only for a fraction of a moment, when he said, “You must feel strongly. Your eyes are alive with gold-lit flames …”

Was he actually flirting with her? She blasted such a thought away. No, he was not; he looked at her like she was nothing more than an ignorant schoolgirl. She was sitting and still managed to put her hands on her hips. “Of course I feel strongly. We should all of us feel strongly. Such things should not be allowed to go on.”

“However, they are too often a part of life,” he answered quietly. “You are young and a bit naïve still, and as I have no wish to shoot down your ideals, I shall leave it at that.”

“Well, I am not naïve,” her brother interjected with some vigor. “And my sister is quite correct. We can not allow such things to stand.”

“Indeed,” added Taffy strenuously. “If men in your position worked to prevent injustices …” She shook her head and saw he was staring at her again. Was she getting through to him? Did he agree with their point of view? Would he help them in Parliament? “Are you aware, my lord, these people’s working conditions at the mill are not bearable? Are you aware of the pitiful wages, of the dangers from the machinery … the hours they are forced to work?”

Her brother was clearly drawn in by her passion. “Indeed, Tarrant, they are worked no better than slave labor. They are starving, so they accept anything they can get, and their employers take advantage of that.”

“Yes, I quite agree with you … their situation is dire, but what they need to do is make active verbal protest. I can’t condone their riots—the smashing of machinery, their attacks of violence on innocent people. Good lord, lad, I have even heard of a group of Luddites here in Nottingham who meets in Sherwood Forest. It is said they have taken to robbing the rich on the highway in the name of Robin Hood with the excuse they are giving to the poor.”

“And why was Robin Hood admired as a hero for his efforts, and these people scorned?” she asked heatedly.

“Robin Hood is a legend.” His voice was grim as he continued, “The Luddites are a fact of life, and another fact is they will be crushed if they continue in their present course.”

Taffy was frustrated, and she allowed it to show. Men just did not think women should involve themselves in politics, and she was heartily sick of this attitude.

“Well, as a peer of the realm, I for one, plan to do something about it when I get to London,” declared Seth with feeling.

“Aye,” agreed Nigel. “We’ll take them on, won’t we, Seth?

Soup plates were placed in front of them, and Lady Watson, with a pleasant smile, said, “Now, enough talk of politics. Cook has prepared a wonderful potato and leek soup, and we must not allow it to get cold …”

Two

It was late afternoon, and Lady Taffy was sparring for wind. Thurston Tarrant, the rakehell Hotspur, was the man in her visions—no doubt about it whatsoever.

This is, of course, impossible, she told herself. Her dream vision had to be off somehow—could be off? Now and then, she managed to change a vision, not often, but it did change. Oh, this was all wrong.

She had come home in a great irritation of nerves, changed into her green riding habit, plopped a matching top hat on her head, grimaced at her reflection, and thrown it off. How could she have been dreaming about such a cad of a man? He was a rogue of rogues. He was a heartbreaker … why had she seen him naked and … why had she been naked? What a stupid question. She set this aside. It had to have been some strange quirk of the mind. She wasn’t getting the entire story from the small snippet of a premonition—that was it; it had to be.

What she needed was a good run to dissipate her confusion and put her back in order. But the thing was, she was in a state of agitation because never before had she met such a man as Thurston Tarrant.

Her brother had said he was the very devil with the ladies. Oh yes, the rakehell Hotspur could certainly have no place in her life. What she wanted when she fell in loved was not a rakehell, but a man who would love only her—faithfully. This one, this Hotspur, would be faithful to no one woman.

Tags: Claudy Conn Sir Edward Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net