"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.