A Matchmaker's Match by Nina Coombs Pykare

naive, but her reasoning was sound. She has been told that you are the best catch of the Season. And she thought that your offering for her would make her guardian sit up and take notice.”
    The earl stroked his chin again. “It’s not a bad plan, but it’s impossible, of course. No one who knows me would believe I’d offer for such a child.”
    He smiled at her warmly. He was supposed to make Psyche jealous. At least, Georgie had said he should. This whole plan was her idea, her female idea. He would have preferred a straightforward approach, a frontal attack, so to speak. But he’d begun this way, so he’d better go on. “It’s well known among the ton that I prefer experienced women.”
    Experienced women like Georgie. Psyche pushed the thought aside. Aloud she said, “Of course. I pointed out to her that the thing wouldn’t work.” She sighed. “I had hoped that once we were in town I could throw the two of them together. But Overton is always out somewhere. We see him only in passing.”
    The earl crossed his legs, idly swinging his booted foot. Psyche’s mind presented her with the memory of the ruined abbey and the seat of the earl’s breeches. Heat rose to her cheeks and she resumed her stitching, but that was no help either and finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, she looked up again. “Have you any suggestions?”
    For some moments longer the earl sat, considering the toe of his shining boot, and then his frown smoothed out. “Perhaps I can help.”
    Psyche dropped her needlework. “Oh, thank you, we shall be eternally grateful!”
    He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’d better wait to see what results we get.”
    He leaned forward, gazing into Psyche’s eyes. For a moment she forgot everything except his overwhelming nearness. Then she regained a little sense. “What?” she whispered. “What is your plan?”
    He smiled. “Actually it is your plan. I mean only to implement it. I won’t actually court the child, but I may drop a few hints, see if I can open your cousin’s eyes— ”
    “You promised.” Psyche leaned forward and clutched his arm. “You must not tell him— ”
    The earl’s hand covered hers, such a warm hand, so strong. “Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “I will handle it all. But you must forewarn Amanda. After the come-out, I shall contrive some occasions to throw them together. Some excursions to see the city, perhaps. You and I will go along, of course.”
    Her heart rose up in her throat, making further thanks difficult to utter.
    He looked at his pocket watch. “Now, I’m afraid I must go. I’ll be out of town for a few days, necessary estate business, but I’ll see you at the come-out.”
     

Chapter Ten
     
    The days passed. In spite of the frenzied activity, the fitting of gowns, the ordering of flowers and food, the constant coming and going of tradespeople, all the continual rush and stir of preparation. Psyche found the days endless.
    The earl was still out of town. He would not return until the very day of Amanda’s come-out. And so for Psyche, though she filled them with activities too numerous to count, the days dragged slowly by.
    But finally the day of the come-out arrived. Feeling as nervous as if the great event had been designed in her honor, Psyche had her claret gown laid out, all its accoutrements ready, and had set Curtis to dressing her hair, when the door burst open and Amanda came flying in, tears streaming down her face.
    “Psyche!” she wailed. “Will you look at me! Just look at me! I’m a sight! I cannot bear it! Why, why, I would frighten little children! Set them to screaming, I’m sure!”
    Psyche looked. And looked again. Unfortunately, Amanda was right. Arrayed in the gown of ruffled persimmon silk, the poor girl rather resembled a fat, fluttering squash. Psyche bit her bottom lip, with great difficulty keeping a sober face. She didn’t want to laugh when poor Amanda was already distraught. And no