A hot retort came quickly to the tip of Edward’s tongue, but he was wise enough not to unleash his anger upon the girl. There was more at stake here than the rents, though those were high enough to warrant his good behavior. Yet he had little tolerance for anyone challenging his dictates, especially one from his own household or the fairer gender. His wife had meekly obeyed his will throughout their married life, taking refuge in her bedchamber when he had raged and salving her hurt feelings in bottles of port until her death. Arabella had never dared give him argument, but had submitted to his authority as if she had no desires of her own. Elise, however, had already proven herself to be of a different mold entirely.
If Edward had learned anything about his niece since her arrival at Bradbury, surely it was a realization that she had a mind and a will of her own. Her firm resolve to find her father had led her into dangers to which he would have abandoned her had he not coveted her wealth so much. He had glimpsed evidence of her strong determination when she had donned the rags of a penniless urchin, secured a ride to London on the back of a cart, and slipped beyond the invisible barrier of Fleet Street in an effort to obtain what information she could from the miscreants who had taken refuge in the lawless territory of Alsatia. When the incessant reminder of a hidden treasure finally prodded Edward to take action, he had sent a servant to find and fetch her home. Other disastrous events occurred shortly after her return, not the least of which had been a shocking confrontation with Reland. That single event had done much to convince him that Elise Radborne had a most incredible talent for brewing trouble.
Order had barely been restored to his household when she slipped away again, this time to the Stilliards, a place her father had purportedly gone to exchange some of his possessions for coffers of gold. If he had thought himself afraid of the lawless breed in Alsatia, Edward had concluded after much fretting, then he was absolutely terrified of those dreaded foreigners in the Hanseatic League. They possessed the power and wealth to influence kings and princes, and though Queen Elizabeth had proven of sterner mettle, many of her subjects had fallen prey to the Hansa. He had despaired of ever seeing his niece again and was much amazed when she came back politely escorted by one of the Hansa youth and dressed in the garb of one of the same. “Breeches on a girl!” he had railed in shock when he saw her. “ ‘Tis not fit!”
Clearly, if he had perceived to what extent his niece would disrupt his life, Edward knew he would have haggled for steeper rents. As it was, he was convinced the twit had made the better bargain. For every coin she gave him, he was put through twice as much torment. Still, he took care now to placate her and assumed a mien of injury as he gave the excuse, “I’m only concerned for yer reputation. Quentin is not one ta bring ye honor. I can only advise ye not ta lose anythin’ ta him.”
“You needn’t fear, Uncle,” Elise promptly assured him. “I have no intention of being led astray by any man.” She delivered the pointed statement, knowing full well what the elder really desired and what he was afraid Quentin would get. He was not so wise at hiding his greed as he thought he was.
Edward missed the thrust of her subtle gibe as he rushed on to criticize her position. After all, she had fled to his house in fear of her life. “Everyone knows yer father sold all an’ hid the gold ‘gainst yer day o’ need, mainly ta keep Cassandra an’ her get from sinkin’ their greedy claws into his wealth when he left this world. I can tell ye for sure, girl, whilst the treasure be hidden, ‘tis a fearful burden ye’ll bear. Every rake’ll be tryin’ ta ferret ye out. An’ dare I remind ye ‘tis the very reason ye’re here, so’s I can protect ye from yer father’s kin. An’ there stands one o’ ’em Radborne devils just awaitin’ ta get his hands on what is yers.”
“Quentin has wealth of his own,” Elise reminded her uncle. “He has no need of mine.”
“Humph! I ne’er seen a man what couldn’t use a little more gold in his coffers. I tell ye, Quentin would sport his manhood with ye whilst he lifted the purse from yer side. Aye! Ye mark’ me words, girl. Ye keep yerself from the likes o’ Quentin, an’ mayhap someday ye’ll get yerself a man like Reland or his cousin, Devlin.”
Heaven take pity! Elise thought in abject repugnance, and muttered aloud in droll humor, “Debauchery may have its rewards after all.”
“What’s ‘at ye say, girl?” Edward railed, taking offense at her offhandish jibe. His fists knotted as he struggled to subdue his bent toward belligerence. “Ye’ve lost yer wits for sure if ye think yer cousin is a better man ‘an Reland!”
“Mayhap,” Elise responded with a noncommittal shrug, and moved away without assuring him that his judgment of Quentin was far outstripped by her own resolve to avoid any serious involvement with her cousin. She was too concerned about her father to countenance being courted by any man, least of all by the Huxford tribe.
Chapter 2
GREED WAS FOR MANY a curse, for it greatly diminished the enjoyment of most pleasures. Not even the smallest coin could be expended without regret at its loss or without an anxious hope that its departure would bring a larger reward and somehow prove worthy of the sacrifice. Such was the case of Edward Stamford, whose satisfaction over his daughter’s marriage dimmed to distressing degrees as he continued to witness the liberal glee and excesses of the revelers. His grudgingly given generosity had apparently delighted the inconsiderate masses who had come to satisfy their gluttony, but the festive strains of the musicians did little to ease his rapidly souring disposition. The laughing and cavorting guests enhanced his gnawing resentment, and he gained no greater comfort from those who were now dozing in a much-sated stupor.
“Look at ’em!” Edward muttered to himself in contempt. “They’ve stuffed their gullets so much on me wine an’ vittles, they’re wallowin’ in their cups. I could’ve saved meself a few good coin if I’d known they’d crumple so easily.”
Edward’s glower ranged slowly about the room and came full around to mark the servant, Taylor, as that one paused at a nearby table. “You there! Stop dawdlin’ with ‘at flagon an’ fill me cup!”
The fellow half turned in surprise, scrubbing the back of a hand across his mouth, but when Edward beckoned him to come, he sidled away as he mumbled, “I’ll go now an’ fetch ye a fresh pitcher o’ ale, Squire.”
“Here now! Ne’er ye mind the ale.” Irate at being denied, Edward motioned the servant back “I’ll take a mug o’ whate’er ye’ve got.”
“ ‘Tain’t fit, Squire.” Taylor’s voice was muffled as he tugged the cowl closer about his face. “Why, ‘tis naught but the last, foul dregs o’ the keg I’ve gots here. I’ll fetch ye a good, stout ale, ‘at I will, Squire,” he offered, continuing his retreat. “ ‘Twill take me no more’n a twinkling’ o’ an eye.” Before further protest could be made, he slid past several drunken lords and slipped out of sight.
Grinding his teeth in vexation, Edward mangled several expletives as he slammed the leather-bound tankard down upon the table. He snatched up his plumed toque and, plopping it upon his graying head, rose to his feet, ready to storm after the wayward fellow. In the next instant he was struck with a horrible fear that the full weight of the terrestrial globe had abruptly descended upon his head, for the sudden throbbing pressure within his skull nearly buckled him to his knees. He waited in cautious stillness until the first assault of pain began to ebb, then gingerly avoided any sudden movement as he scanned the hall for the impertinent servant, unwilling to let him go without a serious dressing-down.