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and threw up his hands.
    "Ye see what ye've done! We've lost another one because o' yer blamed foolishness! Dammit, girl! Ye'd best tell me why ye let that rascal in me house, or I'll set me whip to yer back."
    Erienne rubbed the still stinging spot above her elbow where her father had held her arm. She could see the empty pegs beside the door and experienced a sense of elation that she had at least ordered that overbearing knave from the cottage. She was also abundantly relieved that Silas had seen fit to leave with him. Yet she felt a strange sense of loss too, as if something briefly seen and delightfully pleasant was forever gone from her life. She spoke with careful emphasis as she again tried to explain. "I had never met Christopher Seton before, Father, and whenever either you or Farrell described him, it was in less than accurate terms. You told me a Silas Chambers was on his way here, and when a man arrived, I assumed it was he." Turning away, she fumed silently to herself. And a vile beast he was too, leading me on like that and letting me believe he was another man!
    Avery spoke in a half-weeping tone. "Me daughter escorts me blood enemy ter the bedchambers o' me own house, and only the good saints know what went on. And she tells me 'twas a mistake. A mere mistake."
    Erienne stamped her foot in frustration. " 'Twas Farrell, Father! He stumbled in here drunk and passed out on the floor. Right there where you stand! And Mr. Cham... I mean Mr. Seton was kind enough to carry him upstairs to his bed."
    Avery fairly roared, and his eyes flared, "You let 'at blighter lay hands on poor helpless Farrell again?"
    "He didn't hurt him." Erienne scuffed her foot against the threadbare carpet in embarrassment, mumbling to herself, " 'Twas me he abused."
    Her reply did not soften Avery's rage. "Me lord! Ye make him sound like a bloody saint! He didn't hurt him," he mimed in a squeaky voice and thrust an accusing finger toward the door. " 'Twas 'at devil who laid me poor Farrell down in the first place. The very same one ye was consortin' with!"
    Erienne gasped at the slur. "Consorting! Father! We put Farrell to bed, and when I started down the stairs, I stumbled. He caught me! He saved me from a fall! And that, Father, was all that happened."
    " 'Twas enough!" Avery threw up his hands again, then folding them behind his back, began to pace in front of the hearth. " 'Twas enough," he repeated over his shoulder, "ter give 'at fine Mr. Chambers a clear view o' his own intended a-twistin' in the arms of another man. Why, he's probably halfway back ter York by now."
    Erienne sighed in frustration. "Father, Silas Chambers was never my intended. He was only another one of your precious prospects."
    Avery shook his head sadly and groaned. "Only another one. And they're gettin' fewer by the day. Without a dowry 'tis nigh impossible ter convince 'em ye'll be a fittin' bride." His anger found new fuel. "What with yer highfalutin ideas on marriage an' all. Gotta respect and like the bloke ye marry, ye say. Bah! 'Tis only an excuse ter reject 'em all. I've brought ye the best, and still ye turn 'em away."
    "The best?" Erienne scoffed. "You brought the best, you say? You brought a wheezing, fat glutton; a stumbling, half-blind old man; a bone-thin pinchpenny with hairy warts on his cheeks. And you say you've brought me the best?"
    Avery halted and stared at her in hurt reproof. "They were all single men, o' good report, o' good lineage, and each and every one was the bearer o' a wealthy purse."
    "Father," Erienne took on a pleading tone, "bring me a young and handsome gentleman, one with a good purse, and I will love you and tend your needs and wants till your dying day."
    He fixed her with a jaundiced eye and drew himself up, assuming his best lecturing posture. "Now, daughter, it becomes apparent ter me 'at ye've an error in yer way o' thinkin'."
    Had Erienne been near a chair, she might have sank into it in sheer despair. As it was, she