Surprised by his question, she wasn’t sure how to respond, but as his lips lifted in a smirk, she understood. “Of course. I can think of no other reason. Can you?”
“Ah, Dory, I can always depend upon you saying something I couldn’t predict.”
Knowing his pridefulness regarding his predictions, it was a high compliment. “Thank you, my lord.”
A chuckle escaped before he offered her his arm. “Shall we join the meal?”
She studied the ground one more time. “I suppose.”
“What is it you look for? Lord Manning said you searched for something. What did you lose?”
She set her hand on his arm. “I didn’t lose anything, but it appears the Devil lost two of his jumps.”
“You’ve heard the tale of this stone, then?” Instead of walking her toward the others, he walked her back to the stone.
“I did. Lord Manning got it from the stableboy.”
“I see. Then I should tell you that you will not find the other jumps.”
She stepped away to see his face. “How can you be sure? Did you search for them?”
He bent and patted the stone. “I would have, but I had a very intelligent tutor, one who refused to allow me to search until I researched the origins of said stone.” He stood straight again. “I’m thankful I didn’t walk this entire field looking for them as well.”
“What did you discover that had you leaving off the search?”
“Men far more advanced than I in archeology determined two very credible origins. One is that this is the remainder of a Celtic Cross that was broken.”
She studied the stone. That could be, considering how weathered it was. Even if it had been a hard break, after six hundred years in the elements, it was bound to be rounded by wind and rain. “And what was the second origin?”
“The second scholar determined that it may be a Roman mile marker.”
She moved her gaze from the stone to him. “A Roman mile marker?”
He nodded, his face absolutely serious.
She studied the stone closely. “This is much shorter than any marker I’ve encountered, Roman or otherwise. Why would an archeologist suggest that?”
“Perhaps it was simply to be different. Or it could be he was from the area and wished the local area to be known for something of value.”
She crouched down again, trying to discern if there were indeed any marks on the stone at all that could lead one to believe it had served such a purpose. She ran her fingertips along the face of the stone, hoping she would feel an indent even if she couldn’t see it. She didn’t find any. Looking up, she found Harewood’s arms crossed as he studied her. “What?” She looked at her dress to make sure nothing was amiss, but finding nothing, she rose. “Is there something wrong?”
“No. I was just curious.”
When he didn’t continue upon that which he was curious about, she guessed. “I believe I know which is the correct origin.”
“You do?”
She crossed her arms and nodded. “I do. Tell me. Which scholar had the better reputation?”
He frowned, moving his gaze from her to the stone and back, then his face lightened. “Of course. Whichever scholar had the most experience is most likely correct. I’m not sure I still retain that research, but it wouldn’t be difficult to obtain, as I found it in my father’s library once, which means it would be no large task to find it again.”
“I would be very interested in knowing if I’m correct. From my brief study of the stone, I believe it is the remains of a Celtic Cross. First, because of the dimensions. It has the right length and width of ones I have seen that are still intact. Second, I could find no indentations or markings on the stone, which we know are common on Roman mile markers. Granted, the stone could have been weathered so much as to erase them. However, the other markers I have come across all had marks of some kind upon them, even though equally as old as this one.
“Then again, an argument could be made for the location in an open field with fairly young trees, as in under one hundred years old, and therefore, the stone could have been beaten upon by Mother Nature, exposed as it is. Yet even were I to acceptthat, the height of the stone is far shorter than any I’ve seen. Not that I’ve visited them all. I do not know how many there are but have heard it is well over one thousand.
“Still, based on the knowledge I have, this stone is far too short to be a Roman mile marker by at least one foot. Therefore, I believe it to be the remains of a broken Celtic Cross. Now you may ask, where is the rest of the cross and that is, indeed, a mystery and the answer to that could well be lost forever. Perhaps someone decided to use the top of the cross as a headstone, as we are near sacred ground. Or a poor country boy with artistic talent decided to drag the rest of the stone home so that he may sculpt it into his vision. For all we know, the rest of this stone could be the cornerstone of the inn across the lane.”
She stopped talking when the earl’s smile grew wide, too distracted by his lips and how his face appeared more attractive when he smiled.
