"Well. Well, I missed you also. And—" He hesitated. "I am sorry, too. It was my fault, I think—the trouble between your sister and Lord Blytheland. Not all," he said. "But at least part of it. There is no accounting for how a mortal may react, after all."
"In which case, you should be careful, Harry!" Psyche said severely, but she stopped, smiled, and shook her head. "I will not quarrel with you!"
"Psyche!" cried a voice from behind her.
"Cassandra!" Psyche cried joyfully. "How glad 1 am to see you! I did not want to walk all the way back home from here, so I am happy you have come and you have brought Lord Blytheland with you, too! How do you do, Lord Blytheland—I hope you are well?"
Cassandra almost tumbled down from the carriage in her haste to take Psyche in her arms and hug her. "You dreadful girl!" Cassandra cried. "How could you leave the house and not let any of us know where you were going? And to Lord Blytheland's house, too! I am so embarrassed!" She gave Psyche another hug. "But I am glad to see you safe—I was so afraid!"
Psyche nodded. "I was afraid, too, because Lord Crawforth is a horrid, odious man, but it is quite all right, because Harry rescued me and made Lord Crawforth fall in love with a cow! Was that not clever of him?"
Cassandra hastily glanced at Lord Blytheland, who also descended from the carriage and who looked very grim. "Yes, my dear, but let us not talk of that right now."
"If you will excuse me, ladies, I will go deal with Lord Crawforth," Lord Blytheland said.
"No!" cried Psyche and Cassandra at once.
Lord Blytheland stopped and stared at them.
"Lord Crawforth has been punished already," Psyche said. "My friend Harry did it. He will never bother me again, truly! Or anyone else. He has fallen in love with a cow, you see."
A look of profound revulsion came over Lord Blytheland's face. "Such a foul monster does not deserve to live," he said.
Psyche gave him a puzzled look. "But I think he will treat the cow very well. Only see how kind he is with it." She pointed toward Lord Crawforth. He had apparently concluded his negotiations with the cowman, who was holding a bank note in his hands and dancing in little circles on the grass. Lord Crawforth was leading the cow away, petting its cheek and murmuring into its ear.
"Please, let us go away from here," Cassandra said, touching Lord Blytheland's sleeve. "My sister is not hurt, and it is clear Lord Crawforth is . . . preoccupied." He gazed at her and his expression softened.
"Very well, if you wish it," he said, and extended his hand to Psyche. "Up you go." He lifted Psyche into his carriage, then assisted Cassandra into it as well.
Psyche sighed happily. This was precisely what she needed, her sister and Lord Blytheland together in the same place. Now she would make everything right between them again. She thought carefully over what she would say for many minutes, for this time she did not want to ruin anything between them.
"Thank you very much for finding me, Lord Blytheland," she began. "I wished to speak to you when I came to your house, but you were not there! But it is just as well, because now you and Cassandra are here together, and it is much easier telling both of you what you need to know at the same time."
"Psyche!" Cassandra exclaimed, her face becoming very pink. "Please, do not—"
"No, I will not listen, Cassandra, even though you are older than I. But 1 want to cry, too, whenever I see you weep, and I don't like to cry, you know."
"Psyche, please—"
Lord Blytheland held up his hand, and he looked curiously at Cassandra and Psyche. "Do go on, Miss Psyche. I suspect I am the cause of your sister's distress, and if I have been the cause of more, I wish to know how I may remedy it."
"It is not precisely because of you, my lord," Psyche said. "You see, Cassandra is very much in love with you, I know it. Harry says so, too, so it must be so. But he made a mistake and shot you too full of his arrows, and so you acted in a bad way toward her. But I made him turn you back the way you were before he shot you, and you still love Cassandra anyway, do you not?"
"Yes, of course I do," Lord Blytheland replied. "But who is this Harry?"
"He—he is Psyche's playmate," Cassandra said hastily. "You must not mind her, really."
"I do not understand how your friend can know or do such things, Miss Psyche," Lord Blytheland said, then turned to Cassandra. "But I do wish to know one thing: do you love me, Cassandra?"
He had stopped the carriage, for they were at the Hathaways' house. Cassandra stared at him, and his eyes were warm and anxious, hopeful and full of pain. She thought of what Psyche had said, remembered Harry's—Eros'—appearance before her. She knew her mythology well: the god of love could turn a man mad as well as make him fall head over heels in love. And love could heal as well as hurt . . . Her heart ached and the words gathered behind her lips, too numerous to choose between.
"I . . . I . . . Oh, heavens, I don't know!" Quickly, she stumbled out of the carriage and fled into the house.
"Go after her, please, Lord Blytheland," Psyche said urgently.
"She may not wish me to," he said.
"Please go in! She does love you, I know it. There is no other reason for her to feel so low when she does not see you. And if you go away without finding out, how do you know she will not marry someone and then be miserable because she loves you and no one else?"
Lord Blytheland stared at the door through which Cassandra had gone, and knew he could not bear it if she married another man. Miss Psyche had said her sister loved him. Would not a sister know, however young she was? He leaped down from the carriage.
"Here," he said, thrusting a guinea in the Hathaway footman's hand. "Hold my horses." He pushed past the footman and after questioning a few maids in the hallway, went after Cassandra.
He opened a door and found himself in a small flower- and-vegetable garden, next to the mews. Roses climbed one wall, lilies perfumed the air, and pansies crowded the edges of the walkway. He almost did not see Cassandra, for her flower-print dress blended with the colors around her, and she was sitting on a bench, in a shadowed comer of the garden, her face covered by her hands.
He walked to her and sat next to her, feeling helpless. He wished he knew what to do or say, but he had not really ever been a man for words; his music said most of what he had in his heart. But he did not have his violin with him, and he supposed his only recourse was in words . . . though they had not served him well in the past, had they? But she did not move away, and he did the only thing he could think of: He put his arms around her and held her tightly.
She did not stiffen or draw away, but sighed instead. Encouraged, he put his finger under her chin and kissed her lips, gently. 'Tell me, Cassandra. Tell me what is wrong."
"I am afraid," she said. "I am afraid I will say the wrong thing, like I always do. And I was afraid you did not mean it when you said you loved me, but then Psyche said Harry shot you and made you act—Well, never mind that. But I do believe it now, and feel horrible because I said terrible things to you."
"It can't be worse than the things I said to you, and I was the one who injured you, you who are totally innocent of all the things I said to you." Lord Blytheland stroked her cheek with his finger, gazing at her with such love that it hurt to see it She closed her eyes. "I was married once before, you know, and. . . and my wife did not love me. I was afraid, also." He hesitated. "I do not deserve it, but will you forgive me?"
"Yes, yes of course," she said, and smiled at him.
There was silence, and then, hesitantly, the marquess said, "Was Psyche right, Cassandra? Do you love me? For I do wish to kiss you again, but make no mistake—if you do admit it, I shall insist on marrying you soon. And if you don't want that, I suggest you say no. Because, you see, I would not like you to share your kisses with anyone else but me, even in an experiment." There was a hint of laughter in his voice, but a question also.
She turned to him, laughing, and feeling tears as well. "You are an odious man to bring up my experiment
! It was a stupid thing, I see it now—"
"But do you love me, Cassandra?" He held her face in his hands, looking at her anxiously now, full of hope.
"Yes! Oh, Paul, yes!" she said at last, and put her hands behind his neck and kissed him fiercely.
With a low groan, he pulled her to him and kissed her with all the love he felt for her. His chest felt tight with wanting, and his heart's defenses shattered at last, causing him to crush her closer to him. She did not protest, but pressed herself to him instead.
"Marry me, Cassandra, please," he murmured against her lips, and he kissed her again, trailing his kisses from mouth to cheek, to chin and down the long column of her throat.
"Yes," she gasped.
"Soon." He moved his hands to her waist and hips, then pulled her onto his lap.
"Yes," she said, and kissed him again.
"Cassandra! Lord Blytheland!" Lady Hathaway's scandalized voice echoed in the garden. Cassandra looked up and saw her mother at the door of the garden, her hands on her hips and looking at them sternly.
Hastily, Cassandra pushed herself from Lord Blytheland's lap and blushed furiously. But Lord Blytheland took her hand and rose from the bench and bowed to Lady Hathaway.
"It is not as bad as it seems, Lady Hathaway," he said and grinned. "You see, your daughter has just consented to become my wife."
"Is this true, Cassandra?" Lady Hathaway asked, her voice still stern.
"Yes, Mama."
"Thank God!" Lady Hathaway said, closing her eyes in heartfelt, grateful prayer. "I thought it would never happen!"
"Mama!"
"You must admit it has been a very trying thing for me, my girl! I have been trying to promote a match between you two this age, and then after that luncheon my hopes were almost completely dashed!" Lady Hathaway beamed happily at the marquess and her daughter. "I must go tell Sir John—he has just returned, Cassandra, and tell Psyche, too, for she was quite anxious about it. I have sent her up to her room to change her dress—she became dreadfully dirty, walking all the way to your house, Lord Blytheland! And thank you for your help in finding her, my lord. We are truly grateful. I knew you would be the perfect addition to our family." She turned to leave, then stopped. "Oh, and I should let you know, Lord Blytheland, it is not at all discreet of you to propose and kiss Cassandra in the garden here! It is in full view of the house across the alley, and I am sure any number of persons could see you from there, and from our house!" She turned and went back inside.
Lord Blytheland gazed at Cassandra, who was blushing to the roots of her hair, and grimed mischievously. "I suppose that means I should take you inside the house to kiss you."
Cassandra blushed more pink than ever. "Odious man!" she exclaimed, and turned toward the house. He caught her hand and pulled her to him. "Not here!" she said hastily.
"Where, then?'
"I do believe the music room is unoccupied," Cassandra said primly, then grinned and dashed into the house.
* * * *
Psyche sighed as she gazed down from a guest room at her sister and Lord Blytheland in the garden. "Is that not romantic, Harry? I knew it would work out if I spoke to them. I was right, after all, you see."
Harry shrugged. "Not totally right. I think I helped, also."
Psyche stared at him. "How can you say so? You were the one who shot too many arrows into Lord Blytheland and made him act badly."
"But if I hadn't, he might not have thought of falling in love with your sister."
"You don't know that!"
"And you do?'
Psyche leaped down from her perch at the window and strode to the door of the chamber. "Oh, you odious boy! How can you say that?"
"From experience, my girl, from experience," Harry said, following her.
"Hmph!" Psyche opened the door, then crossed her arms in front of her. But she could not really stay mad at Harry. He was her best friend, after all, and she did not want to lose him again. She looked at him, unsmiling at first, and then she grinned. "Oh, never mind! I am going to the kitchens. Cook has just made up some jam tarts and I am going to get some while they are hot. I know you like them, too!"
Harry grinned. "I'll get there before you do," he said, and flew off down the hall.
"No fair flying!" Psyche called, and ran after him.
About the Author
Born in Japan, I am a half-Japanese Navy brat and lived a gypsy childhood up and down the west coast of the U.S. and Hawaii. I graduated from the University of Washington in Seattle with a BA in English, am married to a wonderful man, have a wonderful grown son, and live in South King County, WA, with a brief stint in the small town of Süsterseel, Germany, which I remember very fondly. I've had various jobs, from office clerk to technical writer and editor; I now have a day job at a civil and structural engineering company.
I currently have two blogs:
Playing With Words, in which I post about writing and publishing in general.
The Pollyanna Files, my blog of general sweetness and light, more or less.
Depending on how busy I get, I'll update those from time to time. For more impatient folks, you can "friend" or "like me at my Facebook page. Twitter? Yep, I've got that, too, at OhWhatADay.
Hobbies? Knitting, spinning yarn (literal wool and silk yarn, which I occasionally sell on Etsy to fund my fiber-crafting addiction), gardening, cooking, and occasionally discerning trends from demographic information.
Cupid's Mistake (Cupid Regency Romance) Page 21
