"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 appre ciatively. "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 abun dance," 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?"

Trev paced to the window, looking out before he drew the curtains. Sturgeon's mount was still tied to the post. Jock and Barton seemed to have succeeded admirably in keeping the major and his minion at bay, but there was no saying when the reprieve would be over. Trev turned back to the darkened room. "We mean to get Hubert back to the colonel, yes? And I suggested that we pass him off as an imported animal and perhaps promote a contest as a diversionary course, which would do for a short time. Then-after it's been widely seen that she has no part in bringing him to the show, we'll have Lady Callista observe him there, 'recognize' him under the dye, and declare his true identity, with a suitable show of shock and dismay of course, at which time he can be handed over to his rightful owner, dye and all."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed his mother, overcoming a cough.

"Absurd!" Callie squeaked. "You mean for me to identify him? In front of everyone? I couldn't!"

"Why not? You'd only have to say the truth, that this is Hubert, and he's been dyed. You're in the clear. Let the others decide how he came to be that way. I'll make sure no one finds out."

"But-" She looked as if she might faint in her chair. "In front of everyone!"

"That would be best. It would make it convincing."

She gave a little moan, shaking her head. Trev couldn't help but smile as he watched her struggle with the idea. It appealed to him, this scheme, now that he had formed it in his mind-though he had the wit to keep some of the riskier details to himself until she was committed beyond recall. He resisted the urge to pull her up to him and kiss her into acquiescence, holding her cheeks between his hands and breathing his recklessness into her-a persuasion he'd used more than once in the past.

He would have kissed her now, but for his mother's presence. Not that it would shock his maman. Oh no-it was that she would be all too delighted.

"Come, you admitted to me that you've had no adventures lately," he said to Callie. "It'll be amusing."

She steepled her hands and pressed her fingertips to her chin, looking at him wide-eyed. In the dim light she was pretty and delicate, like a small white f lower peeking out from under the shade of showier plants. Trev felt such a rush of love that it was almost a pain in his chest and throat-he had to grip his bruised hand into a fist and drown the feeling in sharp physical hurt, mill it down like an opponent in a brutal match.

"A lark," he said with a smile and a shrug. "Like the old days."

"Oh, did you make larks with Lady Callista-in the old days?" his mother inquired, lifting her eyebrows.

"One or two," he said casually. "Long ago, Maman. Sometimes we took an outing. A-ah-a supplement to her lessons in French."

"That is alarming… news," she said, not appearing to be at all alarmed. "I must hope you did not lead my lady to… assist you in any of your regrettable… pranks."

"Regrettable! Come, do you call releasing a baboon amongst a crowd of spectators at a cockpit regrettable?"

"Trevelyan!" his mother said. "You didn't involve Lady Callista with… a cockpit, I pray!"

"I had no choice," he said gravely. "She was in charge of freeing the birds while everyone else was distracted."

Callie gave a stif led giggle behind her gloves. "Yes, I was, ma'am," she admitted, lowering her hands. "But no one noticed me, I assure you."

His mother looked at her with interest. "And what… became of the baboon?"

"Oh, Trevelyan made sure he was all right," Callie said. "They had been going to make the creature fight with a poor little monkey, but they both got away."

Trev chuckled. "A fine chase those two led us!"