Myriah Fire (28 page)

Sighing, she focused on the conversation at hand. “Nigel, why you are suddenly taking on this attitude is more than I can fathom. You may be my uncle, but you are only two years my senior and not fit to tell me what I should or should not be doing.”

Nigel turned to her brother beside him. She knew he was looking for help. Her brother, the young Duke of Grantham, had been more friend and confidant than nephew to Nigel since the first day they had gurgled together on the lawns of Grantham Castle, she’d frequently been told.

“What are you grinning about, Seth? I should think you would lend me your aid in this. After all, she is your sister!”

Taffy watched her brother as he eyed his uncle doubtfully.

“Don’t look to me for help with the brat. Papa was the only one able to control Taffy, and this muddle is all your doing, you know.”

Lady Taffeta eyed her brother ruefully and then her young uncle and guardian. She knew it had been difficult for him. Nigel had been born to his parents late in life. After his parents’ death, his care and upbringing had gone to his older brother, and he had grown up with Seth and her, so the job of guardianship was forever in conflict with the position he held as their confident and friend. There was scarcely a month in age between her brother and Nigel, but that month had been enough to award Nigel guardianship of both her brother and her upon the death of their beloved father. She didn’t know what she would have done without both of them.

However, it was getting close to the day when Seth would be of age and take the reins of his own and her legal interests.
It is sad really
, she thought idly,
how little women are allowed.

“You know, Seth, when we started this thing with the Luddites, well … I allowed myself to be drawn into it, even allowed you to drag Taffy—” Nigel said.

This brought her out of her reverie, and she raised one brow as she eyed them. “I wasn’t dragged.”

“Very well, I allowed Taffy to join in the thing because she—we—needed a diversion. We were all so glum when we lost your father … but dash it, man, I didn’t think it would go this far. It just isn’t the thing for Taffy to be involved in … all of this now. In fact, it is time for us to withdraw as well.”

“Taffy always gets into everything we do. Always has,” Seth answered with a wide grin in her direction. “And we
are
withdrawing.”

“Well, fond of her … we are both fond of her … spirited thing …” Nigel conceded, talking about her as though she weren’t there. “And yes, thank goodness, we are withdrawing.”

“You have never minded before, Nigel,” Taffy said with hurt in her voice.

“As to that, don’t mind now, quite the opposite really. You have been helpful, in fact, but that isn’t the point, is it?” Nigel answered irritably.

“That’s right. You’re a great ’un, and I’m proud to own it!” answered Seth.

“Well, but you shouldn’t, Seth. You are a duke. One day you will owe it to the line to take a wife and beget an heir. Your sister needs to marry to suit her station and have a life. You should not be referring to her as a
great gun!”

“Bit out there, Nigel. Taffy has a life. Deuce take it, what maggot’s got into your head, with all this talk of marriage and heirs? None of us are ready for that.”

“That is just it … we should be getting ready for it. We all owe it to our names. Taffy may only be nineteen, but next month she will turn twenty, and she needs to attend the London cotillions and … not have these escapades hanging over her head. They may rear up and haunt us.”

“Oh pooh, as though I care for such things,” she said.

“Well, you
should
care for such things,” replied her uncle. “The job of guardian wears heavy on my mind lately.”

“I am happy here at Grantham with you and Seth. I don’t want to troll about for a man in London.”

Her brother barked a laugh, and Nigel shook his head. “
Troll about
, indeed. Taffy, don’t you want to be courted?”

“Have enough of that right here in Nottingham,” she said with a giggle.
“Your
friends have been doing a bang-up job of courting me these last few months.”

“Really?” Her brother was moved to exclaim. “Never say so, Taff … who?”

“Trevor Harley for one. He has been making up to me for the last three months. And Sir Edward tried to kiss me in the rose garden yesterday, and Jeffry
did
kiss me the day before …”

“Edward tried to kiss you?
Jeffry did kiss you
? I’ll run them through,” declared the young duke quite properly and then immediately burst into laughter. “’Pon my soul, Edward and Jeffries …” He went off into a rollicking course of mirth, and he slapped Nigel’s knee, who was also chuckling with amusement.

She waited patiently while it took them some moments to catch their breath again before returning to the issue at hand. “So, I am perfectly content to stay at Grantham and not bother with a London season.” She shook her head. “Don’t want to add my name to the lists of debutantes and stand in line waiting to be noticed …”

“You may be my sister, but I ain’t blind, girl … You wouldn’t be waiting in line, you would stand out … Have you looked at yourself lately?” answered her brother with another chuckle.

“Taffy, you are naught but a green girl,” pronounced her uncle Nigel.

“Take care, Nigel,” warned Taffy. She lowered her voice in annoyance and was satisfied to see they knew her well enough to know she was in a temper about to boil over.

“Oh, now, Taff, take a damper,” said her brother. “What Nigel means is that you will want a house of your own one day. You know Papa always said two women could not comfortably rule one household, and if one of those women were you … whoa.” He smiled at her and took her chin. “In order to make a suitable marriage, you are going to have to
out-strut
the best of them at Almack’s and choose the man of your dreams, not go wildly about with Nigel and me.”

“But, I am a part of it all … ” said Taffeta on an obstinate note. “And I shan’t allow you to shut me out at this stage. I want to see it through.”

“We allowed you to join us to shake you out of your depression over Papa’s death. We had to do something about your blues, and you seemed to take a keen interest in the Luddite movement. But then that first harebrained fetch came up, and we all did so splendidly, we never gave a monkey for the consequences.” He shook his fair head of curls ruefully. “No, we didn’t think then of the future. But, Taff, Nigel is right. We are taking you to London, and you will take your place amongst the
haute ton
.”

“Tonight has nothing to do with tomorrow. London is something we will do if it will please you and Nigel, but tonight we will go through with our rig, just as planned,” Taffy said with some determination as she folded her arms across her middle.

Their carriage had approached a long, winding drive cutting through neatly clipped, lush green lawns. Flowerbeds of daffodils were in riotous bloom. Tulips of rich shades gently flowed in the breeze, and with a sigh of resignation, Lord Nigel pointed out the fact they were fast approaching Lady Watson’s front drive.

“So then, it is settled?” Taffeta pursued quickly. “We go as planned?” She watched as her uncle and brother exchanged defeated glances. She knew they were honor-bound to proceed as they had promised. They had given their word, and she was sure they would never renege. She was also sure they relied on her very unique and secret abilities, which had been of service to them in the past. Taffy’s ‘gift of sight’ had saved them already more than once.

They nodded at her, and her brother said, “Aye then … this last time, vixen.”

She smiled, pleased enough, and hoped these strange dream visions of the handsome stranger would stop and allow her to concentrate on the job at hand.

~*~

Hotspur!
Lady Watson considered the amazingly tall and well built Corinthian conversing amicably with her as he stood by the long window in her parlor. He was eight and twenty and still full of fire—the very devil of a man. Even the dandy cut of his light blue coat and buff-colored breeches couldn’t disguise the athletic swell of his lean and sturdy form.

His black, windswept curls were neatly at variance with his rugged and thoroughly masculine countenance, and his smile, so rarely seen by most, was almost incongruous in contrast to his dark, stern eyes. Everything about him gave credence to the name the
haute ton
had given him.

Hotspur indeed—an appropriate name if ever there was one. An odd thing, considering his youth. Oh, he had ever been the passionate lad, full with high, romantic ideals. But she had watched those ideals wither unmercifully, and he had put an end to such beliefs, putting them away, if not banishing them completely.

She could remember him at twenty—warrior-hearted, generous, shy, and so very much in love. That was then, and now … now he was
Hotspur!

She patted the empty spot beside her on the richly upholstered, Regencystyled sofa of yellow damask. “Already itching to be off, Tarrant? Never say you are bored after only one morning in my company.”

He smiled warmly at her. “Aunt Lizzie, favorite of my aunts, dear to my heart, I must admit,
I am
feeling edgy …”

“Ah, too much vapid conversation, but I shall look to entertain you better … shortly,” she replied, teasing him back.

He eyed her. “Oh? What are you up to?” And then, before she could answer, he sighed heavily and said, “I was thinking of taking Demon out for a run.” He put up his hands as she started to object, laughed, and admonished her, “It is only a ride, after all.” He paused, and she pulled a face before he said, “Wait a moment. You are up to something, aren’t you? What have you done? Something, I’d swear.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She avoided his eye.

He chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t sure before,
but now
I am. Come on then, Aunt Liz, what is towards?”

“I only meant you should just leave the stallion be. He is grazing happily in my stud paddock and is happy for the time off, I am sure.”

“Right … as though you give a fig about such things. What are you up to, Lizzie dearest?”

“Again, I repeat, I don’t know what you mean.” She busied herself with the folds of her skirt, sweeping away an imaginary wrinkle. Her aged hand then fluttered to the puff of white curls that ornamented her regal head. “Do come and sit with me, Tarrant. There is so much I want to discuss with you.”

However, at that moment she saw the sound of carriage wheels scraping against gravel draw his gaze to the window. She watched him as he stood rigidly, observing the carriage as it came to a complete stop in the courtyard just within their view. A footman went forward to open the carriage door, and a dainty blue silk shoe emerged.

“Ah,” remarked Lord Thurston Tarrant as he turned and stared at her. His hands clasped behind his back, he leveled a disappointed look at her and said in a tone that displayed a level of hurt, “So then …
Et tu, Brute?
”

Her lashes fluttered. “I don’t know what you can mean.”

He paced, and she could feel his tenseness. She saw the irritation lingering in his eyes. This was the first time she had ever tried to throw a female in his way, and she knew he would be angry. She had not been able to help herself, and even as the sneer marred his good looks and destroyed the smile that had been there only a moment ago, she still felt she had done the right thing.

“Do come and sit with me, and I shall explain later …” she offered.

Tarrant eyed her. “I thought myself safe with you, Lizzie … you have never played matchmaker before. You know that is why I come and visit you …”

She sighed. “’Tis not what I am doing now.” She was lying, and when he raised a brow at her, she realized he knew. “I simply thought … well, you shall see …” she said as she got up and joined him at the window.

There they watched the newcomers just outside, and he grimaced at her. She smiled at him and said on a whisper, “She is such a wild young thing … and I thought she could use a friend in London … at the balls …”

“And you thought I …?” He raised a brow at her again, and his surprise appeared genuine.

“She is a diamond, Tarrant, don’t you think?” She sighed heavily.

 
He wagged a finger at her. “Think you I have not had diamonds enough thrown at me?”

“Yes, but …”

~*~