“And you, Cousin, most surely tease,” she accused with unfeigned skepticism. “You’d have better odds convincing me of your sincerity if you told me you came to see Uncle Edward. Arabella is a beauty no man can deny, and I’m sure many a rejected suitor came here tonight to bid her a fond adieu.”
Quentin’s grin was somewhat representative of a leer as he bent near her to whisper warmly, “Has no gallant troubadour ever sung sonnets praising your beauty, sweet Elise? Or were they too smitten by your perfection?” He sighed in exaggerated agony as Elise gave him a chidingly dubious stare. “Sweet maid, I do not lie! Your eyes are like gems, the most costly of sapphires. They sparkle from their fringes of black. Your brows are winged birds taking to flight, and your hair has the rich warm hue of cherrywood and a fragrance that makes me heady with delight. Your skin gleams with the soft luster of pearls . . . and promises to be most tasty.”
Elise continued to eye him in amused disbelief, unmoved by his ardent declarations. “The wine has most surely addled your wits if you think I will believe that nonsense.”
“I have not had a drop to drink!” he avowed passionately.
Disregarding his interruption, she pressed on. “I’ve heard many tales about you, Quentin. So many I daresay your prattle is frayed from much use. Surely many a maid has had like praises plied to her.”
“Forsooth, sweet maid!” Quentin laid a hand to his breast as he feigned a mournful protest. “You do me grave injustice.”
“And you, sir, beat your doublet in vain. We both know I accuse you rightly,” she challenged with a teasing smile. “You’re a rake worthy of the first merit. Why, ‘twas only a fortnight ago I heard similar prose expressed to Arabella . . . and from your own lips!”
“Can you be jealous, fair Elise?” Quentin asked in hopeful glee.
Ignoring his quick riposte, she continued undisturbed. “I trust Arabella, being duly betrothed to Reland, had the good sense to ask you to leave. As your cousin, I should hope to spare you.”
“Oh, sweetling,” he lamented dramatically. “You ply your tongue with the skill and zeal of an ill-tempered shrew, and I am left bereft of joy.”
“I doubt that.” Elise spoke past the laughter in her voice. As a woman, she could readily acknowledge the dark-eyed, dark-haired Quentin Radborne had both the good looks and charm to lure innumerable feminine admirers, but she was every bit as convinced that more than a few maids had been led to a sullied doom by his cajoling words and ardent attentions. Though she enjoyed his company, she was not of a mind to let her name be linked more than it was to his.
Elise paused, hearing her name called from across the crowded hall, and glanced about until she saw her uncle beckoning impatiently to her. His sharp frown clearly betrayed his displeasure, and there was no need for her to search for a reason. To say that he was even remotely tolerant of Quentin would have been stretching the truth to the extent of farfetched. His tone sharpened with the directive, “Come, girl! An’ be quick ’bout it!”
“Alas, your gatekeeper calls,” Quentin remarked disparagingly.
Elise raised a querying brow at her cousin’s dark humor. “My gatekeeper?”
A wry grin spread across the full lips. “If Edward could, he’d lock you up in a tower and throw away the key, just to prevent me from getting too near. He’s afraid you’ll either lose the treasure he has his eye on or the one called chastity.”
“Then his worries are unfounded.” Elise smiled and lightly tapped Quentin’s doublet. “Not that you wouldn’t try to claim one or the other, mind you. I’m willing neither to be divested of my purse nor added to the long list of your conquests.”
Throwing back his head, Quentin gave vent to a torrent of uproarious guffaws. He could not help but admire this saucy wench for speaking her mind. She was destined to be a challenge to any man and a prize well worth the seeking.
Elise cringed inwardly, knowing how deftly his glee would enflame her uncle’s temper. It was not that she was afraid of Edward, for she held in reserve the prerogative to move out of the manor if ever he became too harsh or demanding. Nevertheless there were times when she was wont to keep the peace as much as she was able, and since it was Arabella’s wedding night, the occasion warranted such considerations.
Dipping into a quick curtsey, she excused herself “ ‘Tis my regret that I must leave your good company, dear Cousin, but as you say, my gatekeeper summons me.
Quentin nodded with a leering grin. “You may have been saved for the moment from this hoary wolf, fair damsel, but there shall come another time, I assure you.”
Elise made her way through the press and joined her uncle, who cast a contemptuous sneer toward the younger man who was now making his own way through the hallful of guests. Edward bent a baleful glare upon her. “Did I not tell ye ta keep yerself ta yer duties?” he growled in low, angry tones. “I gave ye no leave ta be cavortin’ with ‘at Quentin fellow. Have ye no shame?”
“For what offense should I feel ashamed?” Elise rejoined softly, causing her uncle to glower in sharp displeasure. In earnest she explained, “I merely passed a word or two with my cousin in the presence of your guests. I see no fault in that.”
Edward nestled his round head between his thick shoulders as he harrumphed sharply. “Aye, I saw the two o’ ye laughin’ an’ chortlin’ like ye were sharin’ some vile tale.”
Elise’s delicate brows lifted in wonder as she observed her uncle’s jeering disdain. He had a crude way of twisting his lips to display his contempt that reminded her of her own escalating exasperation with the man. The occasions were becoming more and more frequent when she found herself abhorring his manners. Of late, she had felt much relief that her own mother had been of no actual kin to Edward, but had been left as a babe in the chapel on his family’s small farm. That fact alone freed her from any loyalty required by the association of blood kin, yet when she had to struggle with such contrary feelings of her own, she was beginning to feel hampered in her duties when she had to chide others for their lack of respect.
“Ye should be ashamed the way ye carry on with ‘at rascal,” Edward berated.
He flung a hand to indicate the man, meaning to condemn his niece further, but paused abruptly when he realized the handsome rake was now standing beside his own daughter. From all appearances, Quentin was sharing some amusing comment with the bride, for they were both laughing.
Edward puffed up like an enraged rooster and blustered, “Look at him! A body would think the man never had a care in the world the way he’s makin’ his rounds wit’ the ladies.”
“Has the Queen declared a period of mourning that we should bridle our gaiety and good humor?” Elise inquired in a guise of worry.
Somewhat befuddled by her question, Edward frowned at his niece until the realization struck that she was making light of what he had said, then his bushy brows came sharply together. “I’ll thank ye, girl, ta keep a civil tongue in yer head an’ stop yer foolery! Ye’d do well ta pay more attention ta yer duties so’s I wouldn’t have ta remind ye what they are.”
His arrogance pricked Elise’s pride, and though she made an effort to retain her good manners, she reminded him, “I pay rents for the east wing, Uncle, and they are more than adequate. Above that, I yield you whatever help and service I can offer. I am happy I can be of assistance, but I do not have to earn my keep, for my father left monies enough for me in my own accounts with his bankers. Nor do I have to stay here if I choose to leave. If you are uncomfortable with the arrangement, give me leave and I shall find shelter elsewhere.”