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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, Regency styled 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 match-maker 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…”
~*~
The Duke of Grantham, Lord Nigel of Rothbane, and the Lady Taffeta were announced, and the Hotspur stood back and apart to better observe their arrival.
The ‘diamond’ wore a blue a simple blue redingote which covered an alluring female figure. She seemed to have an easy manner, allowing her to unbutton her overcoat and throw it off to a nearby chair. Hmmm, he wondered, is she a frequent visitor here at Aunt Lizzie’s?
Next went her matching blue bonnet, displaying bright yellow hair lit with copper, thick with a profusion of curls trailing over her ears and down her back. Her waist was tiny, and for a moment, he imagined his hands holding her waist, and he felt himself get hard…
