"My father didn't specify it," she said. She gave a wan shrug. "I don't suppose it was something he thought of, to change his will over a bull calf."
"And your cousin put him up for stakes?" Trev said incredulously. "A bullock?"
She lifted her face. He saw for the first time that her eyes were red and swollen. "Colonel Davenport has tried to buy him for a year now. He's offered a great deal of money, but we never accepted. Cousin Jasper feels very badly about it. I think he was not himself."
"Was he drunk, the stupid devil?"
"I don't know. I shouldn't think so. He said was trying to be affable with the other gentlemen. Lady Shelford won't allow him to gamble for coin."
Trev scowled. "He sounds a very fool."
"He is not quite-" She pulled her apron from the calf's searching mouth. "He finds it difficult to be comfortable with people. I can understand it."
"I don't!" Trev said with exasperation. "What sort of man is this, to gamble away an animal when he knows he has no right?"
"He's the earl," she said simply.
"He should buy him back for you."
She drew a deep breath. "Yes, he did try. And Colonel Davenport said he wouldn't part with Hubert for any price now. He's going to show him at Hereford for the cup and then take him about the country to all the exhibitions."
Trev made a skeptical sound. "There's a price that would change his mind, I vow."
"Yes," Callie said. "No doubt." She pulled a wrinkled handkerchief from her apron and blew her nose. "But he turned down two thousand pounds."
Trev whistled through his teeth.
"In a year I might save that out of my pin money," she said thickly from behind the handkerchief. "But I don't know what he would accept. And Hermey is going to live in London. Where would I keep a shorthorn bull anyway?" Callie stared at the calf as it nuzzled her skirt. "It's only that-" She turned away, blowing her nose. "I shall miss him a little. I had not thought to say good-bye so soon."
He stood a moment, holding his hat, f licking his thumb against the brim. "This Colonel Davenport is coming tomorrow?"
"Yes." She took a deep, shaky breath and turned back. "I beg your pardon, I don't mean to burden you with my vapors. Did your mother take some stew?"
"I'm certain that she did. I left her under the command of the formidable Mrs. Rankin."
She smiled faintly. "I'm afraid we still have no cook. Lady Shelford doesn't wish to lend out anyone from the kitchen."
"So I heard."
"I'll speak to her again this evening. Perhaps I can persuade her," she said.
"No, Callie. No."
She glanced up. Weeping did not complement her; the puffiness about her eyes obscured any hidden spark of humor. He had a sudden desire to reach over and gather her close and promise that she would not lose Hubert or Shelford Hall or any of the things he knew she loved. With some effort, he resisted it. He had a bad habit of pledging things that were out of his power.
Instead, he said, "I don't wish for you to plead anything more from Lady Shelford. We'll muddle through without the undercook."
"There's a woman in Bromyard who might be in search of a new position. Mr. Rankin was going to inquire. I'll see him again tomorrow, after-" She paused. "After Colonel Davenport has taken Hubert."
She said it very bravely, which only made him want to beat this Colonel Davenport senseless and then run her cousin through the heart with a saber.
"Perhaps he'll change his mind," he said.
She gave him a tremulous smile and shook her head.
"He might," Trev insisted.
For a moment she looked up at him. "Please don't make me hope for it."
"No-I suppose-forgive me. I wasn't thinking. May I walk you back to the house?"
"Thank you. I would rather not go back quite yet." She caught the rope on the calf's halter and curled it around her hand, looking down.
"Don't cry, Callie," he said stupidly.
"No, no. I won't. I'm not."
He curbed himself fiercely from saying more. He could hardly bear to stand and watch her hide her face under the bonnet. "Good afternoon, then," he said. "When you go in, tell the footman that I brought the roses for you, not for your sister."
He arrived back at Dove House in a dark disposi tion. The ponderous carriage, purchased for the sole purpose of providing a suitably glossy background for the Monceaux crest, was no more than a nuisance now. The modest stable at Dove House was too small to house it. His mother could not even rise from her bed, so there was little hope that she would see it. As he stepped down at the gate, he told the groom to take up Mrs. Rankin and drive the vehicle back to be lodged at the inn.
The innkeeper's wife was descending the stairs as he entered, clearly in some haste to depart. "Beg pardon, your grace, she's sleeping, and I must be back to put a turkey on the boil, or there'll be no supper in the parlor. Shall I send your manservant over to you?"
"My manservant?" Trev asked. "No, he's gone up to London since early this morning."
She gave him a shrewd look. "I hope you don't take it in bad part that I say so, but I fear he hasn't gone nowhere. He's made himself more than at home in the taproom all the living night and day."
"The taproom?" Trev repeated in astonishment. "You're mistaken. He slept here last night and left at dawn."
She cocked her head. "Did he, your grace? But he told us that you'd put him up at the Antlers for your convenience."
"I did no such-" He checked himself and then swore under his breath. "Tell me, how tall is this manservant? Is he a big man?"
"Big? No, sir, not at all. He's less than a middling sort, I'd say." She looked at him with a growing alarm. "He is yours, ain't he not? He hasn't choused me with some Banbury tale of you putting him up with us?"
Trev's mouth f lattened into a thin line. "Does he have a brindle dog with him?"
"Aye, that he does, one of them fightin' curs. We had to put it in the shed, and it barked all night until he took the thing out to walk at dawn. He said it was your grace's animal."
"Deuce take the fellow! It is not."
"Then he's not your servant, your grace?"
"My God, I suppose I must claim him." Trev tossed his hat down on the hall table. "Turf him out, Mrs. Rankin, and tell him to hie himself here at once if he cares to live another day. You may bill his board to me."
The landlady looked relieved. "I'll send him to you straightaway, your grace. And forbid him the taproom?"
"Oh, with my blessing. He won't be lingering in Shelford, in any event."
Trev cut short Barton's excuses and apologies, keeping him standing in the kitchen. "Spare me the sad tale! Doubtless I should have known to scout the local taproom for any pestilent acquaintance of mine engaged in a swindle."
"I didn't think you'd begrudge me and poor old Toby a bed, sir," Barton said reproachfully. "You never did a'fore."
"Try, Barton-try to recall that I've turned you off. You are seeking other employment."
"Sir." He shifted his feet, plunging his hands into his pockets. "Sir, I don't want no other employment."
"What is it you expect of me?" Trev lowered his voice to an exasperated hiss. "I'm done with blacklegs and sharpers. I have no work for you now."
"You kept on Jock, sir," Barton said, his head bent. "You found work for him."
"As a valet! And I suppose you'd like to be my gardener?"
Barton looked up. "I'll do anything, sir! Only don't cast me off. Charlie washed his hands of me, and now me an' old Tobe ain't got nobody."
"Barton-" Trev leaned his shoulders on the wall, crossing his arms.
"Please, sir! Don't say no. After all the years I've been with you." He swallowed. "Please."
Trev gave a heavy sigh. He rested his head back and closed his eyes.