Taffeta & Hotspur Read Online Free Page A

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…”
     
     

Chapter 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.
    Her brother had said there wasn’t a
woman who didn’t want him, eh? Well, she could see Tarrant
thoroughly believed in his own myth. Hotspur, indeed! And then her
mind’s eye recalled his perfect naked body reaching for her in her
dream. She recalled how she felt in her vision, hot and ready and
willing. It brought on a wave of heat in the present, and her blood
surged through her body. This had to stop. The vision was a mistake
… an error … a false dream that meant nothing.
    He was an arrogant, rude, and puffed
up in his own consequence sort, and he had been impudent enough to
think she was interested in him. Well, at least she had managed
quite neatly put any such notions he might have had on that score
deeply into the earth.
    She had exchanged dagger for dagger,
hit for hit, during lunch and then again just as she quit his
company. But the truth was it had not been pleasant, and she had
not enjoyed a moment of the cold war he had engaged her in during
their afternoon.
    Lady Taffeta had been cosseted and
adored all her life. What little she could remember of her mother
had been dear and loving. Her father had openly adored her. Seth
and Nigel were wont to tease her, but never had they, or any of
their friends, treated her with such disdain. More than that, their
friends had recently been quite gallant and flirtatious, a
circumstance she had been learning to appreciate.
    This Hotspur had the audacity to think
she had set her cap for him, so she had spent the entire luncheon
trying to convince him of the reverse—vision be damned! The effort
had left her breathless with chagrin.