Toby raised his head, shaking it up and down as though to say yes, and gave a squeal that almost sounded like laughter. Then he lumbered to his feet and turned to his master.
Psyche, glancing at the earl, saw his smile and bit back one of her own. Someday, perhaps, Miss Linden would learn not to heckle performers. But somehow Psyche didn’t think it would be soon.
“Oh look!” Amanda cried in delight. “He’s spelling out his name!”
And indeed he was. With his huge pink snout Toby rooted at the cards that bore the letters in his name. He pushed them around until they spelled TOBY. And when the crowd applauded, the huge pig essayed what looked like a bow.
Amanda turned to her guardian and gave him a fetching smile. “That was the most marvelous thing, guardian. Thank you so much for bringing me today.”
Overton looked a trifle surprised, but recovered to say pompously, “You’re quite welcome, my dear.”
Psyche frowned. It was too bad she couldn’t just have a talk with Overton, just point out that Amanda loved him—though in her present waspish mood Psyche could hardly see why— and suggest that he marry his ward himself.
But she couldn’t do that. She had given her word of honor to Amanda. And anyway the earl was probably right, Overton was just stubborn enough to disregard her advice. No, they would have to proceed as planned, though “as planned” had certainly not included a meeting with the Lindens.
Miss Linden’s altercation with the pig’s master seemed to have disabused her of the notion of offering any other challenges to his master. And when Psyche turned, she found to her relief that Miss Linden and her mama had faded into the crowd and vanished.
The earl’s party continued, stopping to admire exhibits until they reached the door of a small room. “The shrunken heads are in here,” Overton announced. “And I do think they’re tastefully displayed.”
Psyche frowned. How on earth could the man consider any display of shrunken heads tasteful? But she allowed Overton to lead her to the glass case where four miniature heads, complete with hair and eyes, sat in a row, staring out at the spectators.
“Notice the eyes,” Overton observed. “So lifelike. As though they were actually seeing you.”
Psyche did not observe anything lifelike about the heads, in fact she thought them rather disgusting, but she had no opportunity to say so.
Amanda took one look, raised a hand to her mouth, and gave a little scream.
Then, while Psyche stared in amazement, Amanda swayed once and began to sink slowly toward the floor. In spite of the fact that she had been leaning on Gresham’s arm, her swoon took her in the direction of her guardian. With a muttered oath, Overton wrenched free of Psyche and caught Amanda to him before she reached the floor.
And there he stood, looking for all the world like a great booby, clutching Amanda’s limp form while her bonnet half covered his face and looked about to poke him in the eye.
“I should have known,” he muttered. “The child’s too delicate for such sights.”
Psyche sighed in exasperation. There he stood, holding what was obviously a woman, and he still persisted in calling her a child. The man was incredible.
“Here,” said Georgie, dropping the earl’s arm and hurrying over to take charge of the situation. “This way, Overton.” She pointed to a bench. “We must lay her flat. Give her some air.”
Overton carefully put Amanda down, kneeling beside her with a worried frown.
Psyche was about to step forward, to see if she could be of assistance, when a throaty whisper came from beside her. “Well done.” She turned, meeting the earl’s dancing eyes. For a moment she thought she might swoon. He was so close and she remembered so vividly how wonderful it had felt being carried in his arms.
But unfortunately she had little practice at swooning and the earl had seen so many false swoons he would surely find her out and— Only then did his words register. “You mean—”
The earl nodded. “Georgie suggested it. Gresham thought it would be great fun. Don’t worry, they won’t blab.”
Psyche swallowed her objections. Georgie would be willing to do anything for the earl, certain as she was that he needed a woman of experience, preferably herself. And Gresham— Well, it looked like he wasn’t trying to make Georgie jealous, after all, but simply to please her.
Psyche turned to the earl, moving a little nearer. His eyes were full of mischief and suddenly she found herself saying, “So this time the maiden didn’t fall into your arms.”
He chuckled. “No, thank goodness. Catching falling maidens is difficult work, especially since the right ones seldom fall.”
She glanced toward Georgie. “Perhaps they’re too smart,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, though her heart felt quite heavy.
“Perhaps,” the earl said, his tone noncommittal.
“Ooooh.” Amanda’s eyelids fluttered. “What-- What happened?”
Overton bent over her, all solicitude. “It was the shrunken heads, my dear. The sight of them was too much for a child of your delicate sensibilities. I should never have brought you here.”
Amanda fluttered her eyelids, then opened her eyes wide. “Oh, but I have enjoyed it so! The sword swallower was magnificent. And the learned pig was great fun.” Amanda sighed. “I enjoyed it all so much. It was just— I thought of the heads, how, how they were obtained and—” She shuddered.
“You’re not to think on it anymore,” Overton ordered. “I’m taking you right home.”
Psyche’s heart fell. She didn’t want to lose the earl’s company so soon, but what could she say to change Overton’s mind?
“Please, guardian,” Amanda struggled erect, sitting up on the bench, all dainty confusion. “I am really quite recovered. See? It was all silliness in my thinking.” She stretched out a hand to him. “Let us go on, please. It won’t happen again.”
Overton frowned and shook his head. He seemed about to say no, but before he could open his mouth, Georgie put her gloved hand on his sleeve. “Dear Overton, you mustn’t spoil our excursion. I have so looked forward to it.”
Overton hesitated. “I don’t know. Amanda is--”
“She will be very careful,” Georgie continued, smiling prettily. “See? Why, she can take your arm and we’ll stop to rest whenever you wish.”
“Oh, please, guardian! I’ll be very careful.” Amanda’s beseeching smile would have melted the coldest heart.
Overton sighed and capitulated. “Oh, very well, but you must be careful.”
The earl stepped closer to Psyche. “Mission accomplished,” he whispered. “Shall we join the others?”
And to her surprise he offered her his arm. She took it, of course, quite eagerly. The afternoon was rapidly improving.
They made a leisurely tour of the museum with frequent stops to allow Amanda to rest. Overton seemed to pay more attention to her than he did to the exhibits and Psyche relaxed and let herself enjoy the company of the earl.
Toward the end of the afternoon, his steps grew slower and they lagged behind the others till they were out of earshot. “So,” said the earl conversationally. “I was right, was I not? Overton is enamored of the chit.”
Psyche smiled. “It appears so, but with Overton one can never be sure.”
The earl nodded. “He is rather a fusser sometimes, but his heart is good.”
He had so enjoyed this afternoon. He looked at the woman he loved, admiring the way her eyes sparkled, her lips curved. He loved the soft velvet of her eyes, her dark luxuriant hair, her tall willowy figure. He even loved her fierce defense of womankind. She was rightly named, his Psyche, his Soul. He smiled at her. “I collect he stood up for you when the going was rough.”
Psyche nodded. “Yes, he did. He was one of the few who did.” She frowned, remembering those difficult times. “My mama was— ” She stopped. Oh dear, what was she thinking? She couldn’t tell the earl about Mama. If she did, if he knew all about Lady Bluestocking, knew what a fraud she w
as, he would no longer see her as safe. He would no longer want to spend time with her.
She swallowed a sigh. Soon, too soon, she would be going back to Sussex. But in the meantime, she wanted every minute she could get with him.
“You were speaking of your mama,” the earl said, his dark eyes flashing.
Psyche nodded. She could tell him a little. “Yes. She was much like Aunt Anna except that she kept her figure.”
“And your father?”
“He was a quiet man,” she said, relieved that the earl did not press her about Mama, “interested in the past. He left dealing with the present up to Mama.”
The earl nodded. “His interest accounts for your Greek name.”
“Yes. He used to pronounce it the Greek way. He loved all things Greek.” She sighed. “I miss him.”
Briefly the earl covered her gloved hand with his. “I understand.”
Psyche blinked back a sudden rush of tears, but they were not for the loss of Papa but for the impending loss of the earl. Life without the earl’s company was going to be so dull, so bleak, so—terribly empty.
“Psyche?”
She turned to find Overton staring at her in frustration.
“Yes, what is it?”
“We simply must find Amanda a husband— and soon. The poor child needs someone to look after her.”
Psyche’s patience had worn thin. Why wouldn’t the man see? “She needs—”
“A fine handsome husband,” interrupted the earl. “And we will see that she gets one.”
“We?” Overton asked, his eyebrows rising.
“Yes,” said the earl. “I have agreed to help Psyche with this. You need have no fear. Amanda will be safely wed before the summer is over.”
Overton nodded. “That’s good.” He frowned and pulled at his cravat. “But remember, I must approve the match.”
“Of course, of course,” the earl soothed. “That is understood.”
Overton started back to the others and the earl looked to Psyche. “Well, and what part of London shall we see tomorrow?”
Psyche frowned, trying to think. “The tower perhaps, maybe the menagerie, or Bullock’s—”
The earl frowned. “How about the Royal Institution? I am a subscriber there and can get us seats.”
“What shall we see there?”
“A demonstration of that discovery called laughing gas, among other things. This Humphrey Davy discovered it not long ago and he uses it to keep patients from suffering pain.”
Psyche sent him a peculiar look. “Southdon, I do not really think Amanda is up to seeing anyone in pain.”
“Indeed, not,” said the earl with a chuckle. “But that was not my intent. Davy lectures on the properties of his gas and then he allows people to inhale it. It produces a certain giddiness and can be very amusing.”
She did not see how giddiness could be that amusing, but she really didn’t care where they went. As long as she could be with the earl where they were was immaterial.
And then she remembered Georgie. “Will--Will Gresham be going, too?”
The earl nodded. “Of course, I’ll ask them now.”
And before Psyche could marshal any words, he had dropped her arm and hurried over to the others.
She murmured several oaths that would have shocked her quiet father no end. She had thought she was a woman of some understanding. Papa had always said so and she had believed him. But if she had so much intelligence, then why on earth was she making such a mess of things? Why must she be so inept at love?
Love. The word hung in her mind with dreadful finality. She loved the earl, there was no denying the fact. She was every bit as love struck as young Amanda. And she had even less idea than that young woman how to go about getting the man she loved.
Chapter Fifteen
The earl apparently had no trouble convincing Overton that they should make up a party to go see the laughing gas demonstrated. And so, allowing for one day of rest for Amanda in between their outings, the plans were set.
Psyche took great pains choosing a walking dress of white muslin sprigged with pink flowers. With it she wore a claret-colored Spencer and a chip bonnet tied with a matching claret scarf.
Amanda had chosen a pale blue outfit that brought out the color of her eyes. And, since it sported no ruffles, she looked quite lovely, and seemed most content.
As they entered the Royal Institution, Psyche cast a glance at Overton, beaming down at Amanda like the veriest lovesick calf. How could her cousin be so stupid as not to know that he was in love? A woman now, a woman would know. She knew she was in love. She just didn’t know what to do about it.
The large room was crowded. It seemed that much of fashionable London had turned out to hear the Davy lecture. The rows of chairs were nearly full and the spectators chattered like magpies, gazing eagerly at the stage where a large work table held several flasks and other apparatus.
The earl led them to seats near the front and saw them all settled before he took a place beside Psyche at the end of the row. Amanda was on her other side, looking up at Overton with glowing eyes.
Her eyes bright with mischief, Amanda turned. “Oh, Psyche,” she exclaimed, loud enough for Overton to hear. “They say Professor Davy is quite a fine figure of a man, that he has the most thrilling manner and such magnificent eyes and—”
Overton snorted. “Amanda, really! You shouldn’t carry on in such an unseemly fashion.”
Amanda winked at Psyche, then opened her eyes wide and turned them on him. “But, guardian, I thought you wished me to find a husband. And Professor Davy is young, and quite nice to look at, I hear, though I don’t know that I care much for the name Humphrey—how should one whisper it tenderly in—”
“Amanda! Really!” Overton’s face was now a bright pink and his eyebrows drawn together in a fierce frown.
Still Amanda persisted. “But guard—”
“Enough, I said!” Overton scowled at her. “You’re a young woman of breeding. You cannot marry a—a professor! It just isn’t done.”
Amanda pursed her pink lips into a pout, quite a kissable pout, Psyche noted. How had the girl learned these tricks? To widen her eyes in shocked surprise, to purse her lips so as to invite a man’s kisses, to lean enticingly close to a man and so incite—
This was ridiculous! She could not do any of those things. She would feel utterly and completely foolish just trying.
She glanced down the row to where Georgie sat in animated conversation with Gresham. Georgie laughed at him, then leaned closer and whacked him on the wrist with her fan.
Psyche sighed. All the world seemed to know how to engage in the ritual of male/female. All the world but Lady Bluestocking! She could not, in her wildest imagination, conceive of behaving as Georgie did—or Amanda, for that matter.
Much as Psyche might love the earl—and she had admitted to herself that she did love him— she could never behave in such a foolish fashion. She sighed again.
The earl leaned closer. “I hope you are not worn out with this work you’ve undertaken for Amanda,” he said with concern.
Psyche straightened. “No, no, I am fine. It’s just that sometimes I miss Sussex.” And now, she told herself in disgust, she had taken to lying, too. Sussex was actually the farthest thing from her mind.
“I understand,” the earl said, his heart falling. If she missed Sussex, she would wish to return there as soon as possible. And if he got Overton to confess too soon to loving Amanda, Psyche would be gone. This called for some delaying tactics. A change in his plans.
He sat back to consider, but while he did so, he let himself feast his eyes on Psyche. She was so beautiful. And so unattainable. Other women would have been flirting with him long ago. But not Psyche. She didn’t ever seem to use feminine wiles. Was that because she didn’t know how? Or was it because being Lady Bluestocking she saw no need, had no wish for their relations to each other to go any further than this rather tenuous arrangement in behalf o
f getting Amanda married?
He simply could not tell. And it was driving him crazy. Georgie might insist all she liked that Psyche loved him, he still could not believe it. He wanted the words from her own lips, wanted to hear her say “Justin, I love you.”
Professor Davy entered the room and the subscribers broke into applause. “Ohhh,” cooed Amanda. “He is handsome.” Then she turned to Overton, put a hand on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, guardian, really I am. I’m such a foolish girl. I’m just so fortunate to have you to take care of me.”
To Psyche’s, surprise, this fulsome flattery made Overton beam. Did love include a man’s losing the power of rational thought? she wondered as Overton covered Amanda’s gloved hand with his own and actually patted it.
Psyche hid her smile behind a handkerchief.
The earl leaned closer. “Looks quite the fool, doesn’t he?”
Psyche nodded, trying to keep her heart from pounding at his closeness. “Yes, but I understand that’s part of the affliction. Love makes fools of us all.”
The earl raised an eyebrow. “My, my, Lady Bluestocking is a constant surprise to me.”
She didn’t want to talk about Lady Bluestocking, but she had to ask. “What do you mean?”
He smiled, that brash, mischievous smile she’d come to love.
“I mean that Lady Bluestocking is renowned far and wide for her calloused disregard for love and marriage. Yet you frequently make statements that indicate you find love somewhat less than reprehensible.”
“I—” Her heart rose up in her throat. Why hadn’t she kept her tongue between her teeth? Now she was in the suds for sure. “I— I—”
He smiled and covered her hand with his own, his touch burning through both their gloves. “In fact, when I had known you but a short while you told me that you had wished to marry for love.”
She felt the blood rush to her face, knew her cheeks were turning scarlet. “I— That was long ago, before—before I became Lady Bluestocking.”
“Oh, I see,” he said, his tone frankly disbelieving.
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