Cupid's Mistake (Cupid Regency Romance) (5 page)

Lady Hathaway
's gaze encountered her youngest daughter, and her smile abruptly disappeared. Her eyes became stern. "And what, may I ask, were you doing staring—yes,
staring
—at such shocking behavior?"

"
Well, Har—" began Psyche, but Harry shook his head at her. "That is, I heard a scream, and I thought someone was injured! So naturally, I looked to see if someone was indeed hurt, so I could call for help if it were needed."

Her mother
's eyes narrowed in a considering manner. Psyche held her breath.

Lady Hathaway smiled then, though her eyes still held a bit of sternness.
"I shall let it go this time, child, for I know you are a good girl at heart. But please! You
must
try to comport yourself with more decorum, and not stare or lean out of the window no matter what may be occurring in the streets! Although, I must say," Lady Hathaway mused, "that such shocking behavior would make anyone stare, to be sure! The Comte de la Fer, of all things! And I had thought him very
ancient regime
in his manners."

"
Oh, Mama, I am so sorry!" cried Psyche, feeling tears come to her eyes. She ran to her mother and put her arms around her. She felt terrible that she had lied, for she never liked to do so. She cast Harry a burning look, and he had the grace to look ashamed.

"
Now, now, my dear girl, there is nothing to cry about. You take these things too much to heart, Psyche." Lady Hathaway smiled and smoothed her daughter's hair back fondly. "My, your hair does go every which way, does it not? Do go up and get it brushed properly, love. The Marquess of Blytheland is calling on Cassandra! Can you believe it? I shall allow you to come for a short while, but you must only speak when spoken to! He has come to see Cassandra, and I do hope she minds her tongue for once."

"
I am very glad Cassandra has an admirer, Mama. She is a very good girl, isn't she? So she deserves someone who will love her as we do," Psyche said loyally.

Lady Hathaway sighed.
"I certainly hope so. Now do go, Psyche, and tidy yourself."

Psyche went out of the parlor, with Harry trailing behind. She did not look at him.

"Psyche."

Silence.

"Psyche, don't be angry with me."

The girl turned and looked at her friend.
"You made me lie to Mama."

"
You know it was for the best, Psyche! You would have received a terrible scold about making up stories, and you would have been sent up to your room."

Harry
's face looked solemn and sad. Psyche's heart melted. She could never stay angry with him for long. "Well, I suppose it wasn't so horrid. Let's go up, then."

"
May I come to see this marquess of Cassandra's?"

Psyche looked warily at him.

"It's only to see what sort of man he is—if he truly deserves to be Cassandra's suitor."

"
Oh . . . very well, then. But no tricks! And promise you will leave your arrows behind."

"
I? Tricks?"

"
Harry!"

Harry sighed.
"I promise."

Chapter
3

When Thrimble, the butler, announced the marquess, my lord saw no one in the parlor except a young, mop-haired girl. He felt slightly put out, even though he was only a little earlier than usual for the ton
's afternoon calling hours. Then he remembered that Sir John was considered rather provincial in his habits and perhaps kept different hours. Annoying, that, but understandable.

He looked at the girl, who had stood up from her chair at his entrance. He thought she must be Miss Hathaway
's sister, for though her hair was a decided red, her eyes and nose had the same shape as the elder Miss Hathaway's. She looked at him, her expression uncertain and shy. He wondered if she was mute, for she simply stared at him, and as the minutes ticked by on the mantelpiece clock, her face grew anxious and urgent. She wriggled her nose and grimaced, as if she had something to say but could not. Well, the least he could do was introduce himself and see if she responded.

"
The younger Miss Hathaway, I presume?" Lord Blytheland said, smiling, and bowed. "I am Paul Templeton, Marquess of Blytheland, here to call upon your mother and sister."

An expression of profound relief crossed the girl
's face, and she sketched a competent curtsy. "Yes, sir—that is, my lord. I am Psyche Hathaway. Please be seated. Mama and Cassandra should be here shortly."

His smile turned into a wide grin.
"I see your father is truly the complete classicist." He sat down in a comfortable chair by the window.

The girl rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
"Yes, my lord."

Blytheland chuckled.
"Fathers can be a burden, can they not? My father is also fond of the classics."

"
But you do not have to suffer under a name like mine!"

"
Ah, but here's something I do not tell everyone: my middle name is Xanthus."

"
Oh, dear." Psyche made a face, then looked contrite. "It is not a terrible name, about as bad as my own, really. But at least it's not your first name," she said consolingly.

"
Certainly, I may be thankful for that!" Blytheland laughed, reflecting that the elder Miss Hathaway was not the only blunt one in the family. A slight noise made him look up and he rose immediately, for the door opened and Cassandra entered, Lady Hathaway following her. He caught his breath.

He had thought perhaps his perception of Miss Hathaway
's charms might have been partly due to his imagination. Blytheland had known times when, caught up in the afterglow of a successful violin piece, he'd overestimate the attractions of a woman. He had not done so this time. Indeed, the sun that had finally broken through the clouds shone through the windows and showed all that the dim lights of candles might have hidden—but there was nothing to hide. The soft curve of her cheek, the large and dark- fringed eyes, the pink lips, and the long, smooth column of her throat seemed to glow as she moved gracefully through the sunlight toward him.

"
Your servant, Miss Hathaway," the marquess breathed, and raised her hand to his lips.

She blushed and glanced at her mother, who raised her brows but smiled nevertheless. Blytheland felt annoyed at himself for going so far as to kiss her hand, and was glad at his annoyance. It gave him a measure of control over his reactions, and he vowed he
'd not give Lady Hathaway reason to raise her brows or smile in that matchmaking way again. He would keep in mind that Miss Hathaway was a bluestocking, perhaps even as extreme in her views as Chloe had been. He'd finish calling upon the Hathaways, and never come near Miss Cassandra Hathaway again.

Bowing to Lady Hathaway, he said,
"I find you and your family well, ma'am?"

"
Quite well, thank you, my lord. I see you have been talking with Psyche. I hope she has not prattled on too long." She gave an inquiring look at her youngest daughter.

"
Oh, no, Mama. I did just as you said. I did not say a word when Lord Blytheland came in until I was spoken to," Psyche said earnestly.

"
Oh, for goodness sakes, child!" Lady Hathaway exclaimed, flustered. "Did you not even greet him? I certainly did not mean—Oh, heavens!"

The marquess grinned.
"She was not to speak until spoken to, eh? So that was what all your silent grimacing was about. You looked as if you were about to burst, Miss Psyche!"

A choking sound caught his ear, and he looked at Cassandra. Her shoulders were shaking, and she had her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. Her laughing eyes met his, and there was no self-consciousness there, but an invitation to laugh along with her at her sister
's literal interpretation of Lady Hathaway's dictum.

"
Well, I
felt
I was about to burst, my lord," Psyche replied. "I wished so badly to make you welcome, but Mama said not to speak until—"

"
Yes, yes, I do remember what I said," her mother said hastily. "My word, child, must you take me so literally?"

"
But I—"

"
Perhaps you should go upstairs now. I am sure there are some lessons for which you need to study."

"
But I thought Cassandra was going to play the pianoforte. Could I not stay for that—just for a little while?" Psyche looked hopefully at Lord Blytheland and Cassandra, obviously abandoning any hope of support from her mother.

"
Of course," Lord Blytheland said, earning a grateful smile from Psyche.

"
Oh, do let her stay, Mama," Cassandra entreated. "You know how quiet she is when there is any music. I know she will behave quite properly."

"
Very well, then. But mind, Psyche, no fidgeting or interruptions!" Lady Hathaway settled herself in a chair and bade her guest to choose a comfortable seat.

"
Oh, no, Mama!" Psyche said, all smiles.

* * * *

The conversation before the music would normally have been tedious for Psyche, for it was all about people she did not know. She glanced at Harry, glad for his presence, for she would have been hard put to keep her promise not to fidget otherwise.

"
Harry," she murmured almost under her breath, even though she was at quite a distance from her mother, "what do you think of him?"

Harry looked at her admiringly.
"You become better and better at not moving your lips at all when you speak."

"
Do I?" Psyche said, pleased.

"
Yes. I remember a man once who could do that. He could even make his voice seem to come from objects at a distance from him."

"
No, really? I should like to do that someday."

"
What was interesting," Harry continued, "was that he had two heads and traveled about in a raree show." He gave her a wicked smile.

"
You are the most detestable boy imaginable! I do not have two heads!"

"
I never said you did!"

"
Did you say something, Psyche?" Lady Hathaway called.

Harry shot Psyche a warning look.

"No, Mama." Psyche made herself look as innocent as possible. She sighed and sipped the tea the butler had brought in. Telling lies was becoming quite easy lately. Her mother smiled at her and returned to the conversation.

"
Really, Harry, you are provoking!" Psyche whispered. He opened his mouth to retort, but she shook her head slightly. "Now enough! What do you think of Lord Blytheland?"

Her friend, wings motionless from concentration, stared at the marquess, then frowned.
"I can't have made another mistake . . . no, there must be something wrong with him."

"
Whatever can you mean?"

"
Only look at him. He is obviously attracted to your sister, but he resists it. It is not something I like at all."

Psyche felt uneasy. Harry could be the most amiable boy imaginable, but he took certain things quite personally, especially when it came to the way gentlemen and ladies behaved toward one another. He was staring at both Cassandra and Lord Blytheland in a most intent way, as if trying to solve a puzzle. His frown deepened.

"Perhaps we should tell Mama that he is not really a good match for Cassandra," Psyche said. She felt a little uneasy. Harry could be very persistent if things did not go the way he wished.

Harry shook his head.
"He is a good match. I never make a mistake about such things." A brief, uncomfortable look flashed across his face, but he continued. "He is arrogant, Psyche. It's hubris, and
that
is always offensive to me."

Psyche was not entirely sure what hubris was, but it was not something one did or had without getting Harry and his relatives irritated. Her uneasiness grew. She remembered the stories her father had told her about Harry
's relatives, and began to wonder if the marquess would end up turned into a tree, or chained to a rock and eaten by vultures. However, she was certain there were no vultures in England, so perhaps his punishment would not be so very severe. There were ducks, though. She tried to envision death by duck, but it did not seem very much the same as death by vulture, somehow.

Harry made a short, angry sound, so startling Psyche out of her thoughts that she almost upset her tea. She looked at him and watched his expression grow more stormy as he gazed at Lord Blytheland.

"He believes he is invulnerable when he truly is not. In a way, he is a little like your brother Kenneth, who pinches maids and kisses them, but never does anything else. Blytheland tells himself he does not need a wife, is not in love with your sister, and that he is looking for more than what she has to offer as either wife or lover." He looked solemnly at her.

"
Are you saying he will pinch Cassandra?" Psyche gnawed her lower lip. She had thought the marquess a very amiable sort of gentleman. She could not imagine him pinching anyone, much less her sister.

Harry suddenly grinned.
"If only he would! Then I would not need to give him the punishment he deserves for his arrogance. Your sister would give him such a set-down that he would need a shovel to dig himself out of the ground."

"
Then where is the trouble?"

"
Look at Cassandra."

Psyche turned in her chair. Her sister
's gaze was intent on Lord Blytheland's face, drinking up his words as if they were some life-sustaining elixir.

"
Is she in love with him?"

"
Of course, though she does not know it quite yet."

"
Of course? Why is that?" Psyche looked suspiciously at him. "You didn't!"

"
No, I did not shoot any of my arrows at her!" Harry said indignantly. "Your sister doesn't need any. I shot my arrows at
him
. And he has such arrogance that he refuses to give in to them."

Psyche looked at him, horrified.
"You
didn't
!"

"
Yes I did." Harry smiled in a satisfied way. "It was when your sister and your parents went to the musicale. I'm certain he fell instantly in love with your sister, but he is a stubborn case. He has overcome my arrows before, but this time I'll make certain he does not."

"
You
always
think people are arrogant when they resist you, Harry! You shall change him back!"

Harry frowned.
"Why should I? He's eligible enough, and Cassandra is not opposed to his attentions at all. Only look at him! Would he not make a perfect husband for her? He is handsome, plays exquisite music, and is quite intelligent. Also, he is wealthy and has a title. Few females can resist that."

"
Cassandra is
not
mercenary!"

"
But you cannot deny his other assets would influence her."

Psyche looked at the marquess again. She had to admit he was quite handsome, and Cassandra was excessively fond of music. She creased her brow in thought.
"He
is
amiable, even if he is rather old. He must be all of thirty. Hmm. It is not as if she would know the difference, after all." She shook her head. "No, I cannot like it, Harry. You must change him back. I am quite right about such things."

"
He is six-and-twenty.
That
is not old, Psyche," Harry replied, smiling. "At least, not for your sister."

"
No. Mama thinks that Cassandra is nearly on the shelf, so she must be getting a bit on, don't you think?"

Harry
's smile widened into a grin. "Not really. You will understand when you are turned three-and-twenty."

Psyche made a face.
"I do wish you wouldn't talk to me as if you were so much older than I am.
You
can't be any more than fourteen, if that."