Mr. Price turned round at this, expressing astonish ment and gratification at the news. He demanded to know why the officials of the society had not been apprised of this aspect of the challenge.
"Dunno nothin' more of it." The stranger shrugged. "I'm just a stockyard man myself, from up Bristol. Guess he don't want some swindle," he suggested innocently, pulling a straw out of his mouth. "Like them society fellows might shuff le off the biggest bull here roundabouts if they knew they'd get them guineas themselves. Dunno what them aggi-culture coves might do, eh?"
"The society hide him? By God, we'd never-"
Colonel Davenport cut him off. "Mr. Price! How long has the society been aware of the Malempré Challenge?" he demanded.
"Why, we just found it out yesterday!" Mr. Price cried. "And precisely what are you implying, Colonel, by asking me such a question?"
The colonel seemed to realize he had crossed the line to insult, and held himself up stiff ly. "I merely inquired," he said. He gave a small bow. "I beg your pardon, sir. I meant no offense."
The secretary of the society relaxed a little but kept his brows raised. "No offense taken. I comprehend your upset, Colonel. It's an unfortunate situation for you, no doubt, to have misplaced the Shelford animal at this juncture."
Colonel Davenport drew in a sharp breath as if he might give an angry retort, but then he seemed to crumple under the weight of the secretary's words. "I cannot comprehend it," he said in despair. "How that bull could have disappeared so suddenly, under my very nose! Gone without a trace! A week before the show-and now this… this… Belgian! Five hundred guineas, I say! What would you think?"
"Dark doings," Mr. Price agreed. "We've had seven animals measured since yesterday, but none approaches the dimensions of this imported animal." He glanced toward Callie. "My lady, I beg your pardon, did your father ever have Hubert's measure taken?"
"He was measured last year at the Bromyard show," she said promptly. "After he took the premium for Best Bull under Four Years," she added, to remind them of Hubert's value. "But he's grown since. I daresay he's larger now."
Colonel Davenport gave a faint moan. "Egad, what an animal," he said miserably. "And I've lost him!"
"You've no leads at all?" Mr. Price inquired.
"I'm having all the yards searched from here to London," the colonel said. "I've sent letters to the shorthorn breeders and the society secretaries in ten counties, in case someone attempts to sell him or show him. I've even alerted Bow Street, should he be taken to the Home Counties. Gave 'em a description of that shady fellow who tried to buy him of me. And that French rascal who attacked poor Sturgeon-he's still abroad! I dare swear he's mixed up in it too."
"Perhaps he pulled down your fence," Callie murmured.
"It was a perfectly sufficient fence!" the colonel declared, glaring at her.
"We always keep our largest stock behind stone walls," she said modestly.
"There's a frost break in my stone," he grumbled. "That's why I had to put him in the wood paddock."
Farmer Lewis cleared his throat meaningfully and took a bite of mince pie. Several of the herdsmen chuckled. Callie felt her point about the condition of the colonel's fences had been made. A new bystander, muff led up to his eyes against the cold, winked at her.
She glanced quickly away, blushing at this impor tunity from a stranger. Then she looked back at him, suddenly suspicious. He tossed the ragged woolen scarf over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets, a nondescript working man in a shabby drover's jacket and fingerless mitts. He met her look with a directness that no common herdsman would ever dare. Callie felt her cheeks f lame, growing hot even in the chill.
"Good morning, my lady!" Major Sturgeon's voice came from just behind her, loud and cheerful. Caught gazing at the muff led drover, she startled and turned, her hood falling back from her hair. He bowed and gave her a warm smile. He wore his uniform again, with braids of gold on the collar points of his heavy cloak. "How cold it is!" he remarked, clapping his hands together. "Did your animals fare well on the journey? They've all arrived safe and sound, I pray."
Callie gave him a nod and a slight curtsy. She was still f lustered from discovering that Trev was nearby; she wasn't prepared to deal civilly with Major Sturgeon at the same time. "They've arrived in good order," she managed to reply, hoping that he wouldn't recognize her voice. "But… I didn't expect to see you here at a cattle show, Major." She almost said, "a dirty cattle show," but stopped herself in time.
"I hope to enter into your interests with enthusiasm," he replied, doffing his plumed hat. If he heard any similarity between her voice and Madame Malempré's, he gave no indication of it. "Morning, Davenport!" He nodded to the colonel. "I missed sharing that glass with you last night, but I was a little indisposed. We'll make it up this evening, eh? I'll join you at the Black Lion-I find the Gerard doesn't suit me."
Callie gave him a sidelong glance, recalling that the proprietor of the Gerard had approached Monsieur Malempré as they were leaving the hotel, murmuring that the unfortunate matter had been taken care of and Madame would not be troubled further. She wondered if Trev had had the major turfed out of his room, or if the officer had merely grown tired of waiting for Madame to appear. Whichever it was, it did not appear to have dampened Major Sturgeon's opinion of himself. He seemed to be in an expansive mood, perfectly certain that Callie must be pleased to see him. But of course, he didn't know that she was Madame Malempré herself, or that in the time since he had made his proposal, she had made love to another man.
She ought to be ashamed, Callie supposed, but there was too much irony in it all. Clearly he would have done the same if Madame Malempré had given him the chance, and she didn't doubt that Miss Ladd had been his lover too while he was betrothed to Callie. So they were even now. She had sunk to his level. It was not a particularly consoling thought.
The little crowd of herdsmen and farmers had begun to drift away now that the mince pies had run out, though the muff led drover lingered, leaning against a wagon with his arms crossed. Callie avoided looking toward him. She sent Lilly back into the Green Dragon for more pies. Colonel Davenport excused himself, clapping his friend on the shoulder and advising him to take good care of Lady Callista, as if somehow the major had already taken possession of her, and left them standing alone together.
"May I bring you a hot cider, my lady?" Major Sturgeon turned to Callie again. When she demurred, he looked about him at the rows and pens of her cattle neatly lined up along her assigned portion of the street. Callie had not bothered with tarps to conceal the Shelford stock, as there were no surprises there. She could pride herself at least that it was Shelford's usual excellent showing, except for the lack of Hubert. "This is an exciting moment, to see you here among your entries," he said expansively. "What do you feed to bring your calves up to this great size? I'm not an expert on livestock, but I fancy myself a quick study, if you'll honor me with a tour of the various points of interest."
His attention might have been manufactured, but he made a good show of it. And she had an aim-she meant to convince Trev that she was content with him as a potential husband. More than ever now, after last night. After this morning. After hearing Trev's stony silence as she listed her obvious shortcomings as a wife. She could feel the shabby drover in his muff ler watching her.