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Straightening, he turned his attention back to the cross.

“We will need some ropes to lift the stone and turn it. We will want to check the verso for any other inscriptions. I have some rope here, but I don’t think it will be enough. I think we should come out this afternoon and raise the stone. In the meantime, we should sketch it in situ and measure it. And if we have time, we can begin on the identification of the damaged names back at the house.”

The program laid out for the morning, the Ashfords left them to it, and Deo and Emily worked together until lunchtime when they headed back to the house with the rubbings, sketches, and measurements, leaving the rucksack on the mound for the afternoon’s work. Emily was bubbling over with ideas about the cross. It was so out of place. No crosses of this design had been found in England. To her knowledge, all of the ones so far identified were found in Scotland or Ireland. They were a symbol of British Christianity dating to the post-Roman period up to early medieval times. Scholars were divided on their exact dating.

“I must ask Robert if he has a copy of John Nichols’s History and Antiquities of Leicestershire. I have one at home, but it’s in six volumes, so I didn’t bring it. I seem to recall he mentions some burial mounds or barrows around here somewhere,” said Deo.

“Oh, how splendid,” said Emily, skipping to keep up with his long strides. He was frowning at the rubbing he held in his hands.

Emily reflected that the morning had been one of unalloyed pleasure. Working alongside him had been the best experience of her life, and his deference to her knowledge and expertise had her bursting with pride. She couldn’t wait to start investigating the inscription. Would it be a name they recognized?

He had rolled the rubbing into a scroll and put it back in its tube. She caught his other hand and squeezed it for sheer joy. “Thank you,” she said, unable to keep her feelings in.

“For what?” he asked, startled. He looked down at her, his eyebrows cocked and his shocking red hair all mussed from rubbing it with his fingers. He had such a dear face, she decided, all those hard angles softened when he was relaxed and made him positively handsome.

“For treating me like a colleague,” she said shyly.

His face did soften then, and he said gruffly, “Of course. That was the whole point.”

She chewed her lip. “Everyone has been so kind and welcoming; I’ve never felt so comfortable.”

“I told you they would be.”

“Yes, you did. I like your friends, Deo.”

“And they like you.”

They continued onto the house and discovered that Lord Kenrick had indeed arrived with a friend. Lord Kenrick was exceedingly tall, possibly taller than her husband, but not as broad or solid in the chest. He had a mobile face that was more cheeky than handsome. But it was his companion that took all of Emily’s attention.

“Lord Bidenden,” she said through numb lips and thought that she was going to faint for the second time in her life.