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“Mrs. you say?” asked Taffy surprised. “But … she is hanging onto Tarrant as though he is the only man in the world—and Cath, she has her hand on his backside!”
“She does that and so much more, I am told, with every handsome nobleman she can find.” Cathy leaned in and added, disapproval coloring her tone, “She is the biggest flirt—well, I suppose she does more than flirt, in all of London. You see, hers was a marriage of convenience, and they don’t bother with each other. She wanted his fortune; he wanted to be plush with the aristocracy. He is a mill owner, a very wealthy one.”
Taffy sighed. “When I marry, I will marry for love…”
“I have found that a more difficult thing to
achieve than we assumed when we were in school, Taffy … so much more difficult.”
Taffy frowned but could not pursue it as Seth called out as he approached, “Taffy, only look who I have found here!” He had the husky and amiable James Fenmore in tow. “I’ve invited him to join us in our box … which we had better get to right now for the concert is about to begin.”
As he hurried them along, a squealing sound caught Taffy’s attention. She looked around but did not at first discover its source. Curious, she hung back a few feet, while her brother, with Cathy’s hand in his, continued through the crowd, unaware she was not with them.
She followed the sound and heard the unmistakable yelp of a puppy in distress. It was with sudden blazing outrage that Taffy discovered a group of young ruffians, obviously in their cups, out to have their form of fun with a poor mongrel pup. They were dunking it in the pool near the fountain, nearly drowning the poor hapless thing.
Taffy saw the puppy was all ribs, weak, and frightened to death. She didn’t think as she stampeded them, and with one slapping movement, dislodged the pup from the culprit’s claws and held the wet, whimpering thing to her velvet cloak. “Heathen brutes, just what do you think you are doing?”
The lad appeared unabashed and angry. It was obvious he felt his manhood had been attacked. “Well now … whot we got ‘ere? Quality is it … lookin’ after a mongrel?”
“There will be consequences for what you have done!” she retorted fearlessly as she held the wet shivering babe within the folds of her cloak, heedless of her gown.
“Eh now, that’s me own pup, and oi’ll drown him if oi wishes,” he brazenly answered with a swagger toward her.
Taffy hurriedly stepped back and scrambled into her cloak’s inner pocket and brought out a weighty coin and threw it at him. “There, now the puppy is mine!”
He picked up the coin and pulled an ugly face, “Oi’ll need more than that if oi has to give ‘im up.” He came toward her once more and reached for the pup.
Without thinking, Taffy reacted from the gut, and hauled off and smacked his face with her open gloved hand.
He held his burning cheek, and his face was an expression of fury about to be unleashed. “Oi don’t mean to let ye get away wit that—no oi don’t…” he said as he raised a fist and moved menacingly toward her.
Out of nowhere, a mountain of a man appeared. He was all light and darkness, strength and power, control and fury, and he stepped between her and the ruffian. With his one hand under the brute’s chin and his fingers tightening around the ruffian’s neck, he said, “I think you need to have some water to cool you down. Indeed, that is just what you need.” Down went the drunken lad’s head into the pool of bubbling water, where the Hotspur held him down for some moments before pulling him up by his collar and demanding, “Did you like that? Will you remember what it felt like to be helpless and at another’s mercy?”
In answer, the lad choked and spluttered. Hotspur shook him, “Get out of here, and I will remember your face, and if ever I see you hurt an animal … any animal again, I shall dole out to you what you have doled out to it. Am I understood?”
Taffy waited, but although he opened his mouth, nothing came out. The ruffian nodded his head vigorously, and Hotspur pushed him into the waiting friends at his back and watched them all scramble away.
Her hands were full with the wretched puppy, but she felt an urge to applaud and hug Tarrant. Fenmore arrived on the scene next, and Taffeta said, “Oh my, you’re here as well? This is excellent. I would be so thankful if you will apologize to my brother and Miss Frome. I must return home at once as this poor thing needs immediate attention.”
Fenmore’s brows were up with surprise, but he readily agreed, and Taffeta turned to Hotspur and said happily, “I shall call him George.”
“You can’t call him George,” cried Tarrant with great amusement. “You see, as cute as he may be, he is a mongrel, and you can’t give him the prince regent’s name.”
She frowned, “Silly, but that is no problem for I have a better name. I shall call him Valiant. Only just look at his sweet brave eyes…”
“Jimmy, thank you,” said Lord Tarrant to his friend. “I will see Lady Taffeta and her new charge safely home now.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask that of you,” Taffy replied at once. “You are here … I am sure with er … someone … and will be missed.”
“No, I brought no one here. I came alone, and I am taking you and your young Valiant home.”
“Yes, he is starving, poor thing, and I could never enjoy the concert knowing he needs food and care.”
Fenmore nodded and looked at his long time friend, Tarrant, with interest as he bowed himself off.
Tarrant turned back to Taffy and asked, “And what of your aunt? Will she not be unhappy you have left her party?”
“Oh, no,” Taffy answered brightly, “She said she had no desire to sit outdoors when the weather was still so cool. She is off with friends … some card game or other.”
