'You're welcome.' He took the chair across from me, watching my face warily as if he expected me to leap suddenly to my feet. 'I'm sorry if we frightened you. Brutus is rather a big horse, and I often forget ...'

'It wasn't your fault, honestly. I've been burning the candle at both ends the past few days, and it just caught up with me, that's all.'

'You're sure you're not ill?'

'Positive.' My tone was firm, and after studying my face for a moment, he smiled.

'Then perhaps we could try those introductions a second time,' he suggested, leaning forward in his seat and extending his hand. 'Geoffrey de Mornay, at your service.'

'Julia Beckett.' I returned the handshake. Raising myself cautiously to a sitting position, I tried to salvage the situation by making conversation. 'De Mornay ... I've just been looking at some of your ancestors in the church, then. Yours must be one of the oldest families here.'

'That depends on your interpretation,' he replied with a shrug. "There were de Mornays at Crofton Hall in the reign of the first Elizabeth, but they sold off a century or so later. My father waited years for the Hall to come up for sale, and when it finally did, he bought it back. He was a great lover of family history.'

I looked around in appreciation, noting how the long, sunlit room with its ornate plaster ceiling and elegantly papered walls exuded all the charm and gentility of a bygone era. 'It's wonderful to preserve these old houses,' I said.

'And expensive,' he said, tempering my romance with realism. 'Not to mention impractical. Rather a lot of room, for one person.' 'Is that why you opened the house up for tours?’

'No.' He smiled again, amused. 'No, I'm not that civic-minded, I'm afraid. I applied for a government grant a few years back, to do some renovations, and one of the conditions of my being given the money was that I open up the place to the public'

'Nice for the public,' I pointed out. 'Several people have told me that it's well worth the price of admission.'

'It is rather a lovely house. I'd give you a tour right now, for free, but you hardly look up to it.'

I was feeling rather weak in the knees, but I preferred not to speculate upon the reason why. I smiled. 'Another time, perhaps.'

'Certainly. Some time next weekend, maybe, when I'm a little more organized myself. I've just come back from holiday.'

'I know. France, wasn't it?'

Geoffrey de Mornay smiled, a slow, spreading smile that was unconsciously seductive, and mildly accusatory. 'You've been to the Red Lion,' he said. 'Yes, I keep a boat in the harbor at Antibes, in the south of France. I like to get down to take her out once or twice a year. Nice to get out of the rain every now and then.'

'And who takes care of the Hall for you, when you're not here?'

'I've got a terribly efficient staff to manage things for me.' He leaned back in his chair, shifting the position of his broad shoulders. 'Two tour guides, a housekeeper, a part-time cleaner, a gardener—depending on the season—and a man to take care of the horses. It's quite an operation, really.'

'Of course!' I nodded in sudden comprehension. 'That explains it.'

'Explains what?'

'Sorry. I've just solved a mystery, that's all. I've been seeing a man riding in your fields, a dark man on a gray horse. It must have been your groom.'

'Not if it was a gray horse. I only have chestnuts and bays in my stables.' He ran his thumb idly down the arm of his chair, smoothing the fabric, and his voice, when he spoke, was casual. 'You're sure it was a gray?'

'Horses may not be my forte,' I told him, 'but I do know my colors.'

He grinned. 'I forgot. You're an artist, aren't you? Well, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm not so medieval about my property rights. If someone wants to use my bridle path, they're welcome to it. What did he look like?'

I tried to recall, exactly. 'I really didn't get a good look at him, he was too far away. He was fairly tall, I think— although it's hard to tell on horseback, isn't it? He wore dark clothing, and I rather fancy his hair was long.'

'Sounds like one of the chaps from the hostel. There's a youth hostel about three miles west of here,' he explained. 'Quite a large one. Lots of tourists, passing through. They hire horses out, sometimes.'

'I see.' It certainly sounded sensible to me. I finished drinking my glass of water, and Geoffrey de Mornay stirred in his chair.

'Would you like another drink?' he offered. 'Something more substantial?'

'Oh, no. I'm fine, honestly.' I set my glass down on the end table beside me and rose awkwardly to my feet, running a hand through my untidy hair. 'You've been very kind, but I really ought to go. I've taken up enough of your time.'

'Not nearly. But I never argue with my neighbors.' He stood up as well, dwarfing me, and gallantly inclined his head. 'Come on, I'll show you out.'

I followed him through a narrow, dark passage to the side door, turning on the threshold to thank him once again.

'My pleasure,' he assured me, propping one shoulder against the doorjamb and folding his arms across his chest. 'Rather a nice change from my normal daily routine. I don't often have comely young maidens throwing themselves at my feet.'

'Yes, well,' I said, coloring, 'that won't happen again.' He smiled down at me, and after a final handshake I made my departure. I had almost reached the end of the neatly edged walk when he spoke.