the serious application of scientific techniques.'
"Ah, science." Beatrice gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "How very mundane. A bit of sorcery would have been so much more exciting."
Leo cast her a sidelong frown. "Not all the men in my family have been as fascinated with the study of soils and plants as my grandfather, but we have all had a commitment to our responsibilities."
"So much for the unnatural prosperity of your lands. Let me see, what other aspects of the Monkcrest legend have I learned?" She propped her elbow on her hand and tapped her chin with her forefinger. "I believe it is said that in the past, when there has been turmoil in other portions of the realm, the people of Monkcrest have been left in peace."
"It's true. But we owe that to our remote location. The monks who built the abbey at the close of the twelfth century chose this section of the coast because they knew that no one else would have any great interest in it. Because of their foresight, Monkcrest has never been much troubled by political matters."
"And so another Monkcrest myth dissolves into mist." His jaw tightened. "Are there any other tales you wish me to explain?"
A m a n d a Q u i c,k
"There was something about the abbey being haunted." She smiled expectantly.
He grimaced. "Every house in England that is as old as this one is said to be plagued with ghosts."
"There was one rather odd rumor to the effect that the Mad Monks have been known to consort with wolves on occasion."
Leo startled her with a crack of laughter. "There are no wolves here, only Elf."
"Elf?" "My hound."
"Oh, yes, of course. He is quite large and fearsomelooking for an elf."
"Perhaps. But he is certainly no wolf. Pray, continue with your list of Monkcrest legends."
She cupped a strangely striped parson-in-the-pulpit in her fingers and wondered how far she should push the matter. She sensed that her host did not have a great store of patience for this subject.
"I assume I can dismiss those rumors of the Monkcrest males studying sorcery at an age when other young men learn Latin and Greek?"
"Absolute drivel." Leo's mouth curved with reluctant humor. "I admit that the men of my family tend to pursue their chosen interests with what some would call obsessive enthusiasm. But I assure you, none have employed sorcery in their pursuit of knowledge. At least-not in recent years."
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. "Why must you persist in turning an excellent legend into a series of very boring explanations?"
His amusement vanished so quickly, she could not be certain it had ever been there in the first place. She was surprised by the grimness that replaced it.
"You may take it from one who knows-legends have their drawbacks, Mrs. Poole."
"Perhaps. But they also have their uses, do they not?"
W i t h
R i n g
"What do you mean?"
She was well aware that she was about to tread into dangerous territory. She looked at him across a clump of exotic ferns. "A man who lives at the heart of an interesting legend no doubt finds it a simple task to manipulate the more gullible and overly imaginative sort."
His brows rose. "Just what are you implying, Mrs. Poole?"
"No offense, my lord, but I think you are quite capable of using your own legend to achieve your ends."
"Enough of this nonsense." He planted both his hands flat on the bench that held the ferns. He leaned forward, his face set in lines of grim determination. "I did not ask you in here in order to discuss gardening or family legends."
He was too close. She had to resist the sudden urge to step back. "I assumed as much. You wish to try to talk me out of my plans to make inquiries into my uncle's death, do you not?"
"You are very perceptive, Mrs. Poole."
"It does not require any great degree of cleverness to deduce that you are opposed to the notion. I collected that much last night. May I ask why you are so personally concerned with my intentions?"
"I am against your scheme because it is
"Ah, science." Beatrice gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "How very mundane. A bit of sorcery would have been so much more exciting."
Leo cast her a sidelong frown. "Not all the men in my family have been as fascinated with the study of soils and plants as my grandfather, but we have all had a commitment to our responsibilities."
"So much for the unnatural prosperity of your lands. Let me see, what other aspects of the Monkcrest legend have I learned?" She propped her elbow on her hand and tapped her chin with her forefinger. "I believe it is said that in the past, when there has been turmoil in other portions of the realm, the people of Monkcrest have been left in peace."
"It's true. But we owe that to our remote location. The monks who built the abbey at the close of the twelfth century chose this section of the coast because they knew that no one else would have any great interest in it. Because of their foresight, Monkcrest has never been much troubled by political matters."
"And so another Monkcrest myth dissolves into mist." His jaw tightened. "Are there any other tales you wish me to explain?"
A m a n d a Q u i c,k
"There was something about the abbey being haunted." She smiled expectantly.
He grimaced. "Every house in England that is as old as this one is said to be plagued with ghosts."
"There was one rather odd rumor to the effect that the Mad Monks have been known to consort with wolves on occasion."
Leo startled her with a crack of laughter. "There are no wolves here, only Elf."
"Elf?" "My hound."
"Oh, yes, of course. He is quite large and fearsomelooking for an elf."
"Perhaps. But he is certainly no wolf. Pray, continue with your list of Monkcrest legends."
She cupped a strangely striped parson-in-the-pulpit in her fingers and wondered how far she should push the matter. She sensed that her host did not have a great store of patience for this subject.
"I assume I can dismiss those rumors of the Monkcrest males studying sorcery at an age when other young men learn Latin and Greek?"
"Absolute drivel." Leo's mouth curved with reluctant humor. "I admit that the men of my family tend to pursue their chosen interests with what some would call obsessive enthusiasm. But I assure you, none have employed sorcery in their pursuit of knowledge. At least-not in recent years."
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. "Why must you persist in turning an excellent legend into a series of very boring explanations?"
His amusement vanished so quickly, she could not be certain it had ever been there in the first place. She was surprised by the grimness that replaced it.
"You may take it from one who knows-legends have their drawbacks, Mrs. Poole."
"Perhaps. But they also have their uses, do they not?"
W i t h
R i n g
"What do you mean?"
She was well aware that she was about to tread into dangerous territory. She looked at him across a clump of exotic ferns. "A man who lives at the heart of an interesting legend no doubt finds it a simple task to manipulate the more gullible and overly imaginative sort."
His brows rose. "Just what are you implying, Mrs. Poole?"
"No offense, my lord, but I think you are quite capable of using your own legend to achieve your ends."
"Enough of this nonsense." He planted both his hands flat on the bench that held the ferns. He leaned forward, his face set in lines of grim determination. "I did not ask you in here in order to discuss gardening or family legends."
He was too close. She had to resist the sudden urge to step back. "I assumed as much. You wish to try to talk me out of my plans to make inquiries into my uncle's death, do you not?"
"You are very perceptive, Mrs. Poole."
"It does not require any great degree of cleverness to deduce that you are opposed to the notion. I collected that much last night. May I ask why you are so personally concerned with my intentions?"
"I am against your scheme because it is
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