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did you read?”
    “One of Mrs. York’s, I believe. I was told that she is among the more popular authors.” He grimaced. “Perhaps I should say authoresses, since most of the horrid novels seem to be written by women.”
    “Indeed.” Beatrice gave him an enigmatic smile. “Many feel that women writers are more adept at depicting imaginative lands-capes and scenes that involve the darker passions.” “I would certainly not argue with that.”
    “Do you disapprove of women who write, my lord?” “Not at all.” He was startled by the question. “I have read many books that have been authored by ladies. It is only the horrid novels which I do not enjoy.”
     
    “And in particular, Mrs. York’s horrid novels.
    “Quite right. What an overwrought imagination that woman possesses. All that wandering about through decayed castles, stumbling into ghosts and skeletons and the like. It is too much.ff He shook his head. “I could not believe that she actually had her heroine marry the mysterious master of the haunted castle.”
    “That sort of hero is something of a trademark for Mrs. York, I believe,” Beatrice said smoothly. “It is one of the things that makes her stories unique.ff
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “In most horrid novels the mysterious lord of the haunted abbey or castle turns out to be the villain,” Beatrice explained patiently. “But in Mrs. Yorkfs books, he generally proves to be the hero.f’
    Leo stared at her. “The one in the novel I read lived in a subterranean crypt, for Godfs sake.”
    “The Curse. ”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Beatrice cleared her throat discreetly. “I believe the title of that particular horrid novel is The Curse. At the end of the story the hero moves upstairs into the sunlit rooms of the great house. The curse had been lifted, you see.ff
    “You have read the novel?”
    “Of course.” Beatrice smiled coolly. “Many people in Town read Mrs. York’s books. Do you know, I would have thought that a gentleman who has made a career out of researching genuine legends would have no great objection to reading a novel that takes an ancient legend as its theme.”
    “Bloody hell. Mrs. York invented the legend she used in her novel.”
    “Yes, well, it was a novel, sir, not a scholarly article for the Society of Antiquarians.”
    “Just because I study arcane lore, Mrs. Poole, it does not follow that I relish outlandish tales of the supernatural.” Beatrice glanced at Elf, who was sprawled in front of the fire. “Perhaps your intolerance for horrid novels stems from the fact that you have been the subject of some rather unfortunate legends yourself, my lord.”
    He followed her gaze to Elf. “You have a point, Mrs. Poole. When one finds oneself featured in a few tales of supernatural mystery, one tends to take a negative view of them.”
    Beatrice turned back to him and leaned forward intently. “Sir, I want to assure you that my interest in the Forbidden Rings of Aphrodite is not in the least frivolous.”
    “Indeed?” He was fascinated by the way the firelight turned her hair to dark gold. He had a sudden vision of how it would look falling loose around her shoulders. He shook off the image with an effort of will. “May I ask how you came to learn of the Rings and why you are so determined to discover them?”
    “I am in the process of making inquiries into a private matter that appears to touch upon the legend.”
    “‘That is a bit vague, Mrs. Poole.”
    “I doubt that you would wish to hear all of the particulars.”
    “You are wrong. I must insist on hearing all of the details before I decide how much time to waste on the subject.” “Forgive me, my lord, but one could mistake that statement for a veiled form of blackmail.”
    He pretended to give that some thought. “I suppose my demand to hear the full story could be viewed in that way.” “Are you telling me that you will not help me unless I confide certain matters that are very personal in