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Their hack had arrived outside the entrance to the coffee house so conversation was suspended until they had left it behind and were seated in a quiet corner of the busy establishment.
With their heads together, Nigel said with a frown, “I shall get right to the point, three blackguards have been disguising themselves as the Rogues Three and stealing secrets from the crown … delivering them to the frogs…” he said under his breath.
“I know about the imposters. Tarrant told me,” said Taffy. “It was supposed to be a secret.”
“And you didn’t tell us?” Seth was shocked to ask.
“I was going to … just haven’t had a chance … but go on, go on,” she urged. “It makes no sense why they should ape the Rogues Three, however, perhaps it amuses them to also work against the Luddite movement—put the blame at their door, make everyone think they are traitors as well as thieves.” Seth visibly seethed.
“This is awful. We must do something,” cried Taffeta.
“Yes, but what?” Seth brightened. “Do you think you could conjure up a vision … see who it is?”
“It doesn’t work that way, you know that.” Taffy sighed.
“Work on it, and it might.”
Taffy glared at him and took a long sip of her coffee and then a bite of her cake and then stared across the room. Her mouth opened and closed as she watched the fashionable man making his way toward them. Bruton.
He was a devil. How now could she bring him low without putting herself in the line of fire? She couldn’t. She was the line of fire.
Her vision had put a new take on just how much of a blackguard he was, and she was going to have to devise a new plan.
Bruton arrived at their table, bent low over her fingers, ignored her brother and uncle in his usual aloof fashion, and looked only at her. Taffy managed a smile and wondered if he was already planning to abduct her, or would it enter his head at some later date. If only her vision had given her a clue as to timing.
He took up a nearby chair and lifted it to set it in place at their table before he made a flourish of sitting beside Taffeta.
Nigel objected, “I say … we are having a private…”
“I shan’t stay long.” Bruton turned to her. “Shall I see you at Lady White’s soiree tonight?”
“Oh, why yes…” All at once, she wished she wasn’t attending.
“And will you wear my posy?”
“Your posy? I have not received your posy,” she answered truthfully.
“You shall, later this afternoon,” he answered.
“Oh… I am sorry, I have already accepted to carry another’s posy,” she answered brightly.
“Really? Who holds that honor?”
“I do,” said a strong hard voice at Bruton’s back.
Taffeta looked up with adoration and relief in her eyes, and found gray eyes looking back soothingly into hers. He spoke to her with those dark sensual eyes, and she felt her heart beat faster.
It was as though his voice whispered in her ear, telling her he would always be there for her, would always protect her, and she felt a swelling of feeling that nearly made her want to cry with happiness.
Bruton stood up at once, nodded to Tarrant, bowed to Lady Taffeta and said quietly, anger lining his words, “It appears I was behind in
my attention. I shall not be again.” He turned on his heel and left them.
“Good show, Tarrant!” said Taffy’s brother, standing to slap the Hotspur on his shoulder, “Do sit…”
Tarrant took up Bruton’s vacated chair and got right to the point, “I was on my way out of town, made a stop at the Home Office, and plans were changed. When I stopped by your aunt’s, Jarvis told me that you were all here.”
Taffeta felt the caress as his gaze traveled over her, and he asked her softy, “Did you get my note?”
