Nineteen

"MY DEAR-WE MUST BEG FOR YOUR AID-IF YOU WILL assist us one more time. I am so sorry to trouble you again! But there is a thief-taker, yes. I fear so."

The duchesse gave a little wry smile, and Callie saw where her son had inherited that particular expression of self-deprecating appeal. But Callie hadn't gone through coaxing Hubert out of a kitchen, masquer ading as a Belgian lady, suffering an animal rout at the cattle fair, and then discovering that Trev was married to some person who forged bank notes, without learning anything. She resisted forcefully the danger of succumbing to any Gallic charm.

"I'm very sorry," she said, holding herself stiff. "I had thought you were unwell, ma'am, and so I came as quickly as I received your note. I'm happy to see that you aren't in danger. Regarding thief-takers, I don't see what I can do in such matters. If you'll excuse me, I'll go and prevent Nurse from fetching the doctor."

She turned toward the door, half expecting that Trev would endeavor to stop her. He didn't. The duchesse said nothing. Callie reached for the latch with silence in the room behind her. She paused with her hand on the knob.

His mother made a very small cough, a faint, muff led sound, as if she tried to stif le it.

Callie dropped her hand. She turned about. "Oh, very well!" she exclaimed. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Trev said. He stood across the room from her, making no attempt to move closer. "I didn't know that my mother had contacted you-I asked her not to do so." He gave the duchesse a brief glance. "I'll inquire into how you managed that under my very nose, Maman, but later. Please, Lady Callista, if you'll just contrive to forget that you've seen me here, you needn't concern yourself further in the situation."

"Excellent." She threw up her hands. "The last I was told, you were arrested on the Bristol quay and put to trial, and now I'm to forget I've seen you here while a thief-taker out of Bow Street lurks in the garden."

"Hired by your new fianc'e, as I understand," he replied acidly. "I could wish you'd suggested to him that he call off the hounds. I've had his pursuers on my heels since I left Hereford."

For herself, she could have wished that he had mentioned he was married. But she was determined to say nothing of that. She had spent a number of nights weeping into her pillow over the disclosure, but she would die rather than allow him to know it. It was quite certain to her now that she had made the veriest fool of herself. She could not remember with any clarity their brief discussion of marriage in Hereford, though she had spent long hours trying to recall what precisely he had said about it. All she could seem to draw from her memory, with considerable blushing, were the parts that had little to do with conversation. He had not wished to marry her in the morning, however-that much she remembered perfectly.

"I beg your pardon," she said. "If you mean Major Sturgeon, the topic of you has not arisen between us in conversation."

She felt that she adhered to the spirit of the truth, if not the letter. After the incident of spilling hot bran mash all over his boots, which he had taken very well, considering, the topic had not arisen again. She lifted her chin a little. Let Trev suppose she had forgot him the moment he had disappeared by vanishing into an alley.

"It makes no matter. My apologies for disturbing you." Trev leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Please go on about your day, my lady." He seemed to find some spot on the fading wallpaper to be of deep interest, observing it with his lashes lowered.

"But you will have to go away, Trevelyan," his mother said. "I cannot… abide the strain of… worry that these thief men will discover you here."

"I'm not going away again, Maman," he said strongly, glancing at her.

"But they will come here, and come again… as they did this… morning… until I am driven… mad."

"I'll simply have to hide when they come."

"Hide where? You cannot… be under my bed… all the day while Nurse comes and goes." She clutched nervously at the bedclothes. "Already I am thinking all night, how will I make sure she does not… see you in the dressing room? It is exhausting."

"I'll think of something," Trev said.

"And now the doctor is on… his way. He must pass that thief person who… lurks outside."

"I'll think of something." Trev swung away from the wall. He gave Callie a brief, polite smile. "Let me offer my best wishes to you and Major Sturgeon on your engagement, my lady. I'm sorry that I can't make a formal call, but you'll comprehend that circum stances prevent me."

The duchesse began to cough. "Do not… pretend-" She wheezed and caught her breath. "As if… it is a drawing room! You must… have a hiding-"

"I'll think of something, Maman," he said in an edged voice. Callie looked at the duchesse, who could not seem to draw air enough into her lungs, but only put her hand to her face and covered her eyes, her body trembling with the effort.

"Well, something must be done," Callie snapped. "Your mother will fret herself to death!"

"And what precisely do you suggest, my lady?" He threw her an angry look. "Dress myself as a footman and serve you and the major your tea?"

"Or secret yourself in my bedchamber, perhaps," she retorted. "I'm certain no one would ever look for you there."

The duchesse recovered her breath. She sat up. "Perfect!" She gasped and subsided in another cough. "It's… perfect. I knew you would… aid us-"

"Maman, for God's sake-"

A distant sound of the bell made them all turn and look with apprehension toward the locked door.

"That will be Mr. Rankin," Callie said. "I'll go down and tell him he's not required."

It was indeed Mr. Rankin, but to Callie's dismay and annoyance, he hadn't arrived alone. Lilly met her on the stairs, hurrying up with her apron lifted. "They're coming into the garden, my lady!" She looked harassed. "Oh, but he's brought that awful major with him!" She stopped on the stairs, giving a little gasp, and then dropped her eyes. "Oh, I forgot-my lady. Begging your pardon, but I meant-why has he come? Madame duchesse won't want to see him!"

Callie didn't want to see him either. She recalled belatedly that he was putting up at the Antlers now; he must have heard the summons for Mr. Rankin. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather some composure. "I'll speak to them," she said. "Send them into the parlor."

Just then the constable emerged from the depths of the kitchen, holding a large bun between his teeth and shouldering on his coat. He looked as if he'd just got out of bed; his hair and neck cloth oddly disordered for the middle of the day. When he saw Callie, he stopped and quickly dropped the bun from his teeth, stuffing it into his pocket. "Good morning, my lady!" He bobbed his head. "We've not caught that scoun drel yet, but we're on the job here, my lads and I, as you can see!"

Callie paused on her way to the sitting room. "Constable Hubble. Have you spoken to this new thief-taker?"

He looked puzzled. "An' who would that be, my lady? Only fellow paid to take thieves round and about Shelford is myself. And my boys, if I want to share a bit with 'em."

"He's from London, I understand."

The constable's jaw dropped. "London!"

Callie nodded, beckoning him into the parlor. "Yes. From the city. Come in, Constable. Perhaps you can discover more about him, and what he knows of the duke's location. You may wish to work together."

"I have my doubts about that, my lady." The constable followed her, dusting f lour from his sleeve. "He's after the duke too, is he?" He snorted. "I did hear they thought they'd caught him, up to Bristol, and he slipped out of their hands. He's a sly fox, ain't he? Got to respect that in a criminal. So they think he's come here to his mama's, and s'pose I wouldn't know of it, do they? We'll see about that."

She sat down in a chair and folded her hands as Lilly ushered the gentlemen into the house. The maid brought them to the door of the parlor, gave a curtsy, and said in a resentful tone, "Major Sturgeon, my lady." She glanced at the innkeeper and added with more pleasantry, "And Mr. Rankin."

Mr. Rankin, stood back, holding his hat in his hands, to let Major Sturgeon come ahead of him. Before the major could speak, Callie said quickly, "Mr. Rankin-it was very good of you to come. I'm afraid I've brought you out of your way to no use. It was all a misunderstanding, and I've seen the duchesse. She is as well as might be expected."

"Well, I'm glad to know that, my lady." The innkeeper stood on the threshold with Lilly lingering behind him. "I was sorry to hear the poor madame went out of her mind."

"Her feelings are in considerable distress," Callie said. "I understand that this thief-taker out of London has been troubling her." She glanced at Major Sturgeon. "I should like you to ask him to remain at some distance from this house, Major. As a favor to me. In fact, I really see no need at this time for him to continue in pursuit of the Belgian gentleman. All's well that ends well, is it not?"

"Belgian?" the constable asked. "I was told he was French, my lady."

"It's all the same, I'm sure," Callie said quickly. The stories had multiplied to such an extent that she hardly knew who was pursuing Trev under what guise anymore. His misdeeds appeared to be uncountable- another reason to maintain a severe detachment between him and her heart.

"Aye, my lady." Constable Hubble nodded. "Belgian, French, they're none of 'em English." He ducked his head toward Major Sturgeon. "And you won't take it ill, sir, I hope, if I just humbly say that being the representative of the king's law in Shelford, I didn't give my permit to some London fellow to come pokin' about here for thieves."

Major Sturgeon had said nothing before; at that, his mouth tightened. "I spoke to the Bow Street man just before we came in, my lady. And I've reason to believe the criminal in question-be he Belgian or French or a Hindoostani-is hidden in this house at this very moment."

Lilly gave an audible gasp, peeking round Mr. Rankin with wide eyes. Callie would have liked to gasp herself, or at least shriek and tear her hair out, but she managed to stif le it. "If that's the case," she lied blithely, "I haven't noticed him, though I've been with the duchesse quite some time. And Lilly, you may go up and see to Madame until Nurse returns with the doctor." She gave the maid a pointed look. "You're not required here."

Lilly ducked her head and curtsied. "Yes, my lady." She vanished up the stairs.

"He's hiding, of course," Major Sturgeon said. "Most likely in the attic, or perhaps in the kitchen, if there's a cellar attached. It's only been out of respect for the lady's illness that we've not moved to take him yet." He inclined his head toward Callie. "I know she's a particular friend of yours, my lady, and as such I don't wish to cause her any undue distress. But her son is wanted for breaking the law in several instances. So we're waiting for him to come out."

"He ain't in the kitchen," the constable said bluntly. "That I know. And he ain't in this house at all, come to that. Do you think I wouldn't have taken him up myself if he had been? I s'pose your fancy thief-takers from up London think they can discover what we country fellows can't."

"It seems unlikely, I must agree, Constable," Callie said. "Would he return to where it must be known he's a wanted man?"

"He's in here," the major said with certainty. He looked at her. "Do you doubt me, ma'am?"

"Well, I-" For one fatal moment, in the face of his hard blue stare, she allowed herself to glance away. When she looked back again immediately, a strange expression came into his face. He tilted his head, as if to observe her more closely.

Callie fidgeted with the fingers on her gloves. He made her feel as if she had a f ly on her nose, he looked at her so intently. "It's not a matter of doubting you, sir," she said, forcing some backbone into her tone. "I've requested that you call off your pursuit. If it doesn't please you to do so at my request, then I suppose there's no more to be said." She stood up. "I must be going now; my sister and Lady Shelford will be missing me at Miss Poole's."

"Allow me to drive you, my lady," he said swiftly. "I was just on my way to call at the Hall; my landau stops outside."

"No, no, there's no need. They brought the Shelford carriage." She was f lustered at the way he looked at her so. "Please don't trouble yourself."

"Then do me the honor of riding with me," he insisted. "It's coming on to rain; I can take you home directly. We'll send a message to let them know."

Lilly appeared at the door, making a light cough. Callie turned to her, thankful for the diversion. "Yes, what is it?"

"Madame says that if the men must search the house, then they ought to do it this very minute," the maid said with a curtsy. "She wishes to have it over directly."

Lilly stood with her eyes lowered. Callie had no trouble reaching the obvious conclusion that Trev had concealed himself or got away somehow. She turned to Major Sturgeon. "Well, then." She lifted her eyebrows. "Here is your opportunity, sir."

He bowed his head slightly, but still he observed her in the oddest manner, as if he would make note of her every smallest move. He had been suspicious of Trev in the house; now he seemed suspicious of her too. But he said only, "If you prefer that we not disturb the duch esse, then I won't have anyone come into the house, now or in the future. Let us simply drive on to Shelford Hall, shall we? I'm at your service." He bowed.

Callie judged that it was best to remove him from the place, even if Trev had hidden himself. She gave a curt nod. "Then let us go. Lilly, you'll give my compliments to Madame, and please tell her that she needn't fear any further intrusion."

Outside, her judgment of the preferred course of action took a sudden turn. As she passed through the door ahead of the major, she glanced up at the landau, which had both of its canopies raised to make it a closed carriage in the inclement weather. The driver sat up on his perch with his back to them, hunched down against the mist, a shapeless hat pulled over his eyes.

She almost stopped in her tracks. Then she forced herself not to pause or stare at the driver, who had an all-too-familiar cut of black hair just barely showing under the hat. She made a great demonstration of being unable to lift her shawl over her hat to cover it, which required such aid from the major as kept his attention occupied until they reached the carriage door. He held it open for her and Callie stepped up inside.

As Major Sturgeon swung in beside her, he called out a command to drive on. The vehicle jerked into motion. He sat back on the seat and turned to her.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" he said.

She sat bolt upright. "I beg your pardon."

"I understand you now." He gave a slight laugh. "You're carrying a torch for that French scoundrel. That's why you don't want me to touch you and asked me to call off the Runners."

In spite of the fact that it was nothing but the whole ghastly truth, Callie exclaimed, "Are you mad?" She sat away from him. "The poor duchesse is my friend. I don't want her to be tortured while she's ill."

"Certainly," he agreed. "I understand that."

He said nothing more but merely looked ahead at the black leather of the landau's canopy, a slight frown on his strong, handsome features. Callie was beyond any words. She kept expecting him to call off the engagement, but he did not. She stared out the window at the gray sky and slowly passing fields.

As the carriage turned in at the gates of the Hall, the major said, "You're better off with me, you know." His voice was not unkind. "I won't tell you what sort of man he is-I think you're well aware, or you would have run away with him already. But that's an ill way to win you, is it not? Disparaging my rival for your heart." He lifted her hand and kissed it lightly. "I'll strive to make my own place in your affections."

"I'm sure-there's no necessity-I do not require-"

He released her before she could pull away. "Do you say I must not make the attempt?" He gave a wry smile. "Will you be that cruel to me, my dear heart?"

Callie looked at him in astonishment. "Please, I would prefer that we-"

"That we go our own ways. Yes, I comprehend you. Completely. I only ask that, as you have been so generous as to say I may take any woman I choose, you allow me to choose you."

The carriage rolled to a halt beside the stairs. A Shelford footman stepped briskly forward, opening the door. He would have helped her out, but Major Sturgeon jumped down first and held up his hand. Callie had no choice but to take it or remain confined in the coach, which seemed like a promising course of action when she thought about it. She could just take up residence there and simplify her life. As she descended the steps, she took one sideways glance at the driver again, to make sure she hadn't been deceiving herself.

She hadn't. Trev sat holding the lines of a team of placid job horses, staring out ahead of him. The Antlers' postboy stood in front of the team, holding their heads, a vastly innocent expression on his face.

Major Sturgeon took her arm and guided her up the stairs.

The most dangerous moment for Trev wasn't getting out of Dove House, or exchanging places with the Antlers' grinning driver, or climbing into Callie's unlocked window in broad daylight. It was offering a bribe to the gruff old charwoman who first discovered him in her bedchamber.

In the old days, the Shelford servants had not been susceptible to bribes. The butler kept his staff firmly in line but looked kindly enough on Trev that recourse to sweeteners hadn't been useful or necessary. It was a risk now to assume that things were different under the management of Lady Shelford. The moment he heard the doorknob turn, he laid a stack of gold sovereigns in the middle of the f loor where it would be instantly noted and stood to the side, trying to look as harmless as possible.

The charwoman saw the coins first. She froze, holding her broom and ash bucket. Trev cleared his throat and said in a soft, easy voice, "They're yours, if you're a friend to Lady Callista."

She startled and looked up. The instant in which she saw him rated well up in the category of the longest in his life, along with sitting in the dock waiting for the judge to read his fate.

No expression f litted across her face, no recogniz able thought process. She leaned on the broom. It trembled a little in her blue-veined hand.

"I mean her no harm," Trev said. "I love her."

She took a slow step into the room. With a bang of her bucket, she closed the door so that they were alone. "Sir's the Frenchie gentleman," she said, jutting her chin toward him. It was not quite a question. "Outta Dove House."

Trev nodded. "Aye, my mother is the duchesse."

The old woman lifted her broom, indicating the cano pied bed. "M'lady's been weepin' of a night, sir. Even though her got bespoke to marry that officer, eh?"

That was a shaft directly to his heart, but he had no reply for it. He looked down at his boots and up again.

"Well, sir," she said after a moment, in her rough, old voice. "I reckon I ought to call up the hall boy and say there's a housebreaker, eh?" She peered at the coins on the f loor. Then she bent over and gathered them up, dropping them into her apron pocket. "If I find m'lady's been weepin' in her pillow in the morning, I will, sir," she said and went about sweeping the ashes from the hearth.