With This Ring Read Online Free PDF

She wore no jewelry. Her maid sounded as if she had recently come off the streets.
    The one question that had, for some reason, concerned him the most had been answered. She had quietly contrived to let him know that she was a widow. If he had to guess, he would have said that her husband had left her a small inheritance, but certainly not a fortune.
    How to explain the gown?
    Beatrice was- He paused, groping for the right word. His beleaguered brain finally produced interesting. It suited, but it did not go far enough, he admitted grudgingly. She was much more than merely interesting. In point of fact, she was quite unlike any other woman he had ever met.
    Her fine, well-molded features were animated with intelligence and the sheer force of her personality, not great beauty. He had been correct in his earlier estimation. She had to be hovering in the vicinity of thirty, although much of
     
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    that impression came from her air of self-confidence, not herlooks.
    She had probably not been the toast of the London ballrooms in her younger days, Leo thought. But he for one would always know if she were anywhere in the vicinity. She was impossible to ignore.
    She stirred a curious restlessness in him. His senses all felt vaguely disturbed in her presence, as if they had been touched by an invisible current of electricity.
    He had an uneasy feeling that Beatrice could see beneath the surface of the cool, enigmatic facade he was careful to present to the world. It was an illusion, he told himself, but it was disconcerting nonetheless. He did not care for the sensation.
    Her eyes, he concluded, were part of the problem. They were an unusual mix of green and gold, but that was not what drew his attention. It was the clear, disconcerting awareness of her gaze that simultaneously intrigued him and made him cautious.
    He sensed that she was studying him as closely-and just as obliquely-as he was studying her. The realization had an odd effect. He controlled a sudden impulse to abandon his station in front of the fire. He would not surrender to this inexplicable urge to prowl the room the way Elf did when he wished to go hunting.
    "I believe that you may be the only person in all of England who can assist me, sir," Beatrice said. "Your extensive study of old legends is unequaled. If there is anyone who can supply me with the facts concerning the Forbidden Rings, it is yourself.",
    "So you have come all this way to interview me.' He shook his head. "I do not know if I should be flattered or appalled. You certainly did not need to trouble yourself with a difficult journey, madam. You could have written to me."
    "The matter is an urgent one, my lord. And to be perfectly truthful, your reputation is such that I feared you
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    might not see fit to reply to a letter in, shall we say, a timely manner."
    He smiled slightly. "In other words, you have heard that I am inclined to ignore inquiries that do not greatly interest me."
    "Or which you deem to be unscholarly or based on idle curiosity."
    He shrugged. "I do not deny it. I regularly receive letters from people who apparently waste a great deal of their time reading novels."
    "You do not approve of novels, my lord?" Beatrice's voice was curiously neutral in tone.
    "I do not disapprove of all novels, merely the horrid ones. You know the ones I mean. The sort that feature supernatural horror and strange mysteries."
    "Oh, yes. The horrid ones."
    "All that nonsense with specters and glimmering lights in the distance is bad enough. But how the authors can see fit to insert a romance into the narrative in addition is beyond me."
    "You are familiar with such novels, then, sir?"
    "I read one," he admitted. "I never form an opinion without first doing a bit of research."
    "Which horrid novel 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