Lessons in French (22 page)

not left the premises willingly—not unless it was to go for a musket. So when Trev saw a

f licker of motion through the leaves and overhanging branches far down the lane, a

warning that someone was marching briskly toward them, he felt a surge of true panic.

"Someone's coming." He would have stampeded the bull in any way he could, but with

Callie standing in front of the bull he didn't dare. She'd be crushed in an instant if the

beast overran her. He threw a wild look round, saw a white expanse of bed linens hung

out to sun over the side fence, and finished off Hubert's work by trampling down the

delphiniums to reach them. He tore the sheets off the fence and waded back, dragging

them in his arms, tossing the whole spread over Hubert's back. "Take the ends! We're

airing linen."

Callie nodded, with a wide-eyed glance toward the lane. She grabbed a sheet corner,

pulling it toward her. Hubert ignored the drape as Trev hurriedly arranged one edge over

a rosebush, trying to cover him entirely under a tentlike affair of bed linens. Callie held

out the ends, waving them up and down as if to shake out wrinkles while she made a

pavilion over Hubert's lowered head.

To the nondiscerning eye, he might possibly resemble the lumps of covered garden

bushes, assuming the bushes were small trees, but Trev feared he looked very much more

like a bull with a pair of sheets and a counterpane laid over him. Trev was frantically

trying to invent a reasonable tale to cover the situation when the advancing pedestrians

appeared round the curve of the lane.

Trev looked toward them. Then he closed his eyes, let go of a harsh breath, and thanked

every saint in heaven and a few well-known sinners in hell. It was only the new cook and

his mother's nurse, with no other companions.

The cook paused a moment in her stride, gave the tableau in the garden an appraising

look, and then walked stoutly forward, carrying her covered basket. The nurse stood

stock-still, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Giving the linens an airing!" Trev said, trying for a lighthearted tone in the face of the

nurse's glower. "We thought they could use more sun."

She did not appear to be amused. Indeed, she seemed to be making some effort to

breathe, her chest rising and falling as she held herself ramrod-stiff.

"I told Nurse, him's a Frenchie duke," Cook said conversationally. "Eccentric."

Callie f lapped one corner of her sheet a little, to free it from where it threatened to tear

open on the tip of Hubert's horn as the bull lifted its head. He took a step forward. The

sheets began to slip.

Trev speedily altered his tactic, injecting a note of curt haughtiness into his voice. "My

mother is sitting up in the parlor, Nurse. She's been awaiting you for some time to help

her back to bed. You may use the back entry. Cook, if you will delay a moment, I'd like

to see what you've brought in that basket to tempt her."

"Ah, sir," the cook said, nodding. "As you likes. The kitchen door's back round that

way." She pointed obligingly for the nurse.

With a little scandalized shake of her skirts, the nurse strode round the corner of the

yard, avoiding a collapsed sunflower that lay across her path like a fallen soldier. She

vanished just in time. Hubert was beginning to move, easing himself forward, his great

nose lifted under the sheets in the direction of Cook's basket.

"What do you have there?" Trev asked.

"Bath buns," the cook said.

"Bath buns?" Callie exclaimed, taking a step back as Hubert pressed forward, moaning

eagerly and trailing sheets. "Oh, thank the good Lord! Bath buns are his favorite. He'll do

anything for them."

Eleven

"SEIGNEUR," HIS MOTHER SAID, HER WHISPERY VOICE drifting from the parlor

as Trev attempted to pass the door unnoticed.

He halted. Most mothers rebuked their sons by their full names when they were in hot

water, but Trev had simply been "Seigneur" since he was old enough to dread the word.

He knew he should have left by the stable gate, but he'd hoped the nurse had escorted his

mother upstairs and back to bed by now.

He considered feigning that he had not heard, but Callie was already stepping past him.

She had lured Hubert to the rear of the property and established him comfortably in the

closed stable, surrounded by ample hay spiked with scattered pieces of Bath buns to keep

him occupied. Trev had feared that the bull would bellow again if she left him, but she

claimed the hay and buns would be sufficient distraction for the moment. They'd left

Callie's mount with him and tied Major Sturgeon's horse again at the garden gate. Now,

as Trev paused, plotting how best to abscond before he was obliged to explain himself,

she took his sleeve and called, "He's right here, Madame." She gave him a little tug

toward the parlor door.

Trev made an accusing face at her. She knew perfectly well what that "Seigneur"

portended for him. He could bear any number of whippings from his grandfather, but to

have his gentle maman call him on the carpet was more excruciating by far. Callie gave

him a pert glance and a mock curtsy. She turned back as if to join Cook in the wrecked

kitchen, but the grim-faced nurse appeared at the parlor door.

"Madame wishes to speak to my lady also, if she would extend the honor," she said in a

stern voice.

"Hah," Trev said softly. He smirked and gave a bow as he gestured for Callie to precede

him.

She shook her head quickly, but he took her elbow and used his superior height and

leverage to grossly unfair advantage, ushering her bodily through the parlor door ahead of

him. Then he stood with her in front of him like a shield.

"You may go upstairs, thank you, Nurse," the duchesse said mildly. "And close the

parlor door, if you please." She waited until the nurse had shut the door with an offended

rattle. Then she broke into an impish smile. "I fear she is very much… shocked… at this

household."

"I'd better speak to her directly," Trev said, seeing a chance of escape. "We can't afford

to lose such an excellent woman." He turned toward the door, ignoring Callie's clinging

hand and accusing look at his desertion.

"Seigneur!" His mother stopped him. "I believe that I can soothe her… pelt—or is it

feathers?"

"Feathers, ma'am," Callie said in a small voice.

"Thank you, my dear. Please sit down. I can do that soothing of feathers well enough

myself. I wish to speak to you, Trevelyan. Before I expire of curiosity, and have no need

of any nurse."

Callie sank into in the nearest chair, gripping her fingers nervously. Trev determined to

take some control of the interrogation, since it appeared to be inevitable. "Very well,

Maman," he said briskly. "What would you like to know? It's about the bull, I suppose."

"Yes. The bull. And the constable. And the bandage of your hand. And the much

shouting, and your coat… torn, and the dog… and… a scurrilous fellow running about…

whom I never saw before… in my life!" She panted a bit at the end of this list,

overcoming a cough.

"Scurrilous? That would be Major Sturgeon," Trev said blandly.

"I think she means that other fellow," Callie said, sitting up straight. "I saw him too,

Madame." She gave Trev a sideways look. "And Major Sturgeon is not precisely

scurrilous."

"I beg your pardon, my lady." Trev was not altogether pleased to hear her defend the

major, even mildly. "I thought he was persecuting you. But I notice that you arrived in his

company this morning. Do you like him better now?"

"He was helping me to find Hubert."

Trev would have liked to inquire further into just how that came to pass, but he deemed

it wiser to steer the topic away from Sturgeon and any other reason the constable might

be calling at Dove House. Hubert was one thing; a warrant for his arrest was another. "So

kind of him," Trev said, dismissing the major with a sardonic glance at Callie. "I suppose

I must explain why the bull was in the house, Maman. It was to protect Lady Callista's

reputation."

"
My
reputation!" Callie gasped.

He bowed to her. "You'll recall that you said you didn't wish for anyone to suppose you

had stolen him back from Colonel Davenport."

"Well, no, I don't wish for anyone to suppose that, but that isn't why he was in the

kitchen!"

"Then why was he in the kitchen?" Trev asked.

"Because you led him in there, I must suppose."

"And why would I do that?"

"To keep the constable from finding him with
you
, I presume!" she responded

indignantly.

"And why did I have him with me?"

"You said you had tried to purchase him from Colonel Davenport," she said. "But I

don't know why you had him—"

"Yes!" Trev interrupted triumphantly. "Why did I attempt to purchase him?"

She blinked, shaking her head. "Well—you said you wished to—I thought—you

implied that—" She bit her lip. "I thought you wished to give him back to me."

"There, you see?" Trev said.

She looked utterly bewildered. "See what?"

"I did it for you, my lady. I wished to please you."

"Well done, Seigneur," his mother said. "Our brains are quite cooked now."

He turned to his mother. "And you also, Maman," he said. "I thought you would like it

if I did something to make Lady Callista happy."

The two women in his life both looked at him with their lips pursed, one with

resentment and the other with dry amusement. "I see," his mother said.

"Well, I do not," Callie said. "Why is Hubert dyed black, if you were only trying to buy

him back for me?"

"I must censure myself for that," Trev said, standing with his hands clasped behind his

back, the better to look solemn and responsible. "I didn't call on Colonel Davenport

myself, as I was preoccupied with my mother's situation." He glanced at Callie, to see if

she would allow that as a defense. When she gave a little nod, acknowledging it, he

continued. "So I delegated a… a gentleman of Jock's acquaintance, with full powers of

negotiation to deal with the colonel. I told him to purchase the bull at any price. I may

have said to bring him to me under any circumstances. I was perhaps unwise in my

choice of words. Or my choice of an agent."

"Oh," Callie said. "Oh! Could this be the sharper who offered Colonel Davenport a

huge sum for Hubert?"

"Quite probably. Almost certainly. You see, Lady Callie," he said, with an air of hurt

dignity, "it was not to use him for baiting."

She cast her eyes down. "I never really thought you would do that."

"Thank you." Trev cleared his throat. "I'm obliged to you. But it seems that, after

being—ah— dismissed from the colonel's presence, in a rather abrupt manner, with the

word that the bull was not for sale at any price, my agent discovered the animal

wandering free on the road. Being a brainless but determined fellow, he saw this as an

opportunity to convey Hubert to me, taking care to disguise him first by dyeing him a

false color. And so, Maman—" He nodded toward his mother. "We are now in a fix."

"But of course," she said, looking up at him appreciatively. "I am in awe of the…

greatness of… this fix. What do you propose to do?"

"We must give Hubert back, ma'am," Callie said. "I can't keep him, I'm afraid, though I

very much wish I could."

His mother seemed to ponder this, studying Callie. "My son told me of this ridiculous

card game where he was gambled away."

Callie gave a small shrug. "It could not be helped. Hubert didn't really belong to me."

His mother reached out to touch Callie's hand. "I'm so sorry, my lady. I know you…

love the good creature. And I commend you well, Trevelyan—that you try to buy him

again for Lady Callista. But it is—yes—a fix." She sat back, giving Callie a sidelong

glance. "So you will do… what Trevelyan says, then? My son is so clever to fix a fix, you

know?"

"Do what?" Callie asked with a note of suspicion.

"The cattle show… up to Hereford," the duchesse said. "I heard a little. It sounds to me

like an… excel lent plan."

"Oh no, ma'am, that will never do. I promise you. I would not dare to take Hubert to a

show while he's in this state!"

"Then what will you do with him?" his mother asked innocently.

Callie clutched her hands together. She opened her mouth and then closed it.

"I do believe that if he… remains here… he will be discovered from his… great bellow.

It is a fine bellow, but… very loud."

"Yes," Callie said wretchedly. "I fear so. Perhaps—" She turned to Trev with a helpless

look. "Perhaps I could stay here and try to keep him quiet."

"Until he sheds the dye?" Trev shook his head. "We'd never manage to hide him here

that long. But I think I may have a likelier notion. It'll require a bit of nerve, but it ensures

that Lady Callista wouldn't be accused of trickery and cuts short the whole imbroglio to a

few days instead of weeks."

"Nerve?" Callie asked dubiously.

"Ah, but nerve is what Trevelyan has in abundance," his mother said, with an approving

nod. "Prudence—now that is a house of another color."

"'Horse,' Maman," Trev said. "A horse of another color."

"A horse, then. What is this… scheme,
mon chère
?"