"Well, no," he said. "At least, I didn't mean to."
She lifted her eyes, her head tilted a little aside, a hesitant upward curve on her lips.
Trev felt his heart make a certain sort of squeeze, the kind of pang that he direly wished to avoid, when she looked at him just so. He gave a f lat smile and a shrug. "I'd intended to purchase him, if you will credit that."
"For me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh no," he said casually. "I meant to present him to some other lady. It's all the crack, you know. Flowers are so common."
She pressed her lips together and frowned. She wrinkled her nose, and then put her arm over Hubert's broad back and laid her cheek to his massive shoulder. "Thank you," she said quietly.
Trev examined the bandage on his hand, tugging at the knot. "An unsuccessful endeavor, as usual. What will I bungle next?"
Callie sighed. She lifted her head and stroked the bull's sleek hide. "We must give him back, you know. He's too valuable."
"I suppose," he said. "I prefer not to be too closely associated with the honorable deed, myself. Perhaps we could just turn him loose, to be found."
She considered this, shaking her head slowly. "I don't like to turn him loose. There are these sharpers lurking about. And there's no saying who might find him first, or that he might get tangled with some fence, or chased by dogs, or a fast carriage might come upon him suddenly in a narrow lane. Hunting gentlemen come into the country this season and drive as if they're mad. He might be hurt."
"True." Trev privately spared a moment's sympathy for any fast driver who happened to collide with Hubert.
"Besides, I think he would just come home again." A slight frown crossed her brow. "And if he were discovered at Shelford-dyed like this-" Her eyes widened. "Someone might think I stole him!"
He snorted. "You? No one would suppose that."
"With the Hereford show next week-" She stood straight. "Everyone knows we're going to it. Everyone knows I hoped to win. There's a great deal of rivalry within the county Agricultural Society."
"It's cutthroat, I've no doubt," he said. "But I hardly think anyone would accuse you-"
"They would," she said strongly. "Best Bull not over Four Years of Age-it's for the silver cup, you know! And there was a horrid scandal last year; I heard all about it from Colonel Davenport, though I couldn't attend myself. Mr. Painter was disqualified from ever showing at the exhibition again, because he had glued false hair over a sore on his bull's back."
"Shocking," Trev said with a grave look.
"It was! Very! No one would ever have suspected it of Mr. Painter. We supposed him to be a perfectly honorable gentleman. Now he doesn't dare show his face among honest graziers. No, I don't want to risk anything like that. I've seven heifers, four steers, a bull calf, and a pair of oxen entered, even without Hubert. And I'm not certain, now that I think of it, that it would look very well at all even if I took Hubert directly back to Colonel Davenport now. Not in this state, and so close to the exhibition. It might appear that I only pretended to find him and bring him back, while meaning to keep him out of the competition altogether. He can't be shown like this."
Trev pressed his fist inside the stiff curve of his bandaged hand. "So… we can't take him back, and we can't turn him loose, and we can't keep him at Shelford."
She shook her head. "I don't see how we can-at least until he grows out of this dye."
"How long will that take?"
"Oh my-his winter coat will be coming on, but- some months I should think, before there is no trace of it."
"Splendid," he said dryly. "We'll have to conceal him, then."
They both gazed at Hubert. He chewed rhythmi cally, with a faraway, dreamy look in his deep brown eyes. He swished his tail, thumping it against the cupboard with a sound like a hollow drum. Inside the cupboard, the dishes rattled.
"Perhaps some spectacles and a mustache," Trev suggested.
"Yes, and a bagwig," Callie said curtly. "He could sit on the bench and conduct the assizes."
Trev squinted at the bull. "He does resemble some of the judges."
She pursed her lips and gave him an arch look. "No doubt you're familiar with any number of them."
"Sadly I am, and I fear I'll come to know them even better if we don't discover some way to deal with this monster." He crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the overturned table. "If you believe we can't turn him loose, we must get him well away from Shelford, Callie, in truth. And rapidly at that. Is there anyone you trust to take him?"
She frowned and clutched her gloves together, holding them to her chin. In spite of his increasingly urgent anxiety for his own skin, Trev found himself hard put to suppress a smile at the look of earnest concentration on her face.
"I have an excellent drover," she said, "but he knows Hubert very well, and I wouldn't know how to explain it all. And where would we take him?"
"Somewhere among a great number of cattle would be best. A market or such."
"We can't sell him!" she exclaimed.
"I don't mean to sell him. Only somewhere that he would blend in among a lot of others of his kind for a while."
"I don't believe Hubert will blend very well. Particularly in this color. The only black cattle that are common are the Welsh type. They aren't so large, and you don't see many of them hereabouts. I heard there were a few at the last exhibition."
"The exhibition!" Trev stood upright. "We could take him there. Cattle by the score."
Callie gasped. "Are you mad? We can't let him be seen there!"
"It's perfect. It's an exhibition, yes? You don't have to enter for a prize. He's an alien bull, just come over from… from Belgium. Kept under wraps until he's revealed at the show. New blood, all that. We could even start up a rumor claiming he's larger than Hubert. And you would publish Hubert's dimensions-slightly reduced, of course-and express your displeasure with this upstart-"
Callie's mouth fell open wider and wider. She was shaking her head.
"It's hide in plain sight, you see," Trev said. "We'll offer a challenge! A hundred guineas. While everyone scours the countryside trying to find Hubert, so that the two can be compared, he's standing right in front of them. But they won't see it."
"You're mad! Of course they would see it. I recog nized him instantly!"
"Did you?"
"Well, I-it did take me a moment to realize-but, I'm sure anyone who knew Hubert would see it quickly."
"How many in Hereford know him that well? He doesn't have any scars or nicks. It's not so easy to recognize an animal with no markings as one might suppose. I've seen enough dark horses to know, you may believe me."
She turned and gazed at Hubert, assessing his generous bulk and shaking her head. Trev could see that she was about to dispute him, when a faint cough from the door made them both look round quickly.
"Maman!" Trev exclaimed. "What are you doing down here?"
The duchesse leaned one white hand on the door jamb, peering into the kitchen. "No, I ask you!" she whispered. "What does this animal do here?" Her eyes danced. "You and Lady Callista… have a scheme together, eh?"
"We're taking him out directly," Trev said. He moved toward the door, avoiding the smashed pie. "As soon as I help you back to bed."
"Oh no, do not suppose-" She coughed, clinging to the door. "You expect me to… be in bed… while all my house falls down!"
"Better that, than you fall down," he said, taking her arm.
"I will… sit up in the parlor," she said with dignity. Her voice strengthened. "I am much… better. We have a great deal to discuss, I think, Trevelyan."