A Matchmaker's Match by Nina Coombs Pykare Page A

wonder.
    “Oh, God!” Amanda moaned. “This is horrible. If Overton sees me like this, I shall die!”
    “Steady,” Psyche soothed, rising to her feet and crossing to Amanda’s side. “He’s not at home yet. And no one else will see you. Remember, we have the plan.”
    “I know, I know.” Amanda nodded bravely, but then she peered down at her gown, and her face took on an expression of utter horror. “Oh dear, can’t we go ahead and do it now?”
    Psyche looked at the clock. “No, dear. It’s simply too early. I promise you, though, when the time comes, you will be stunning.” She squeezed her hand. “Now, chin up. And remember, don’t let on to anything in front of Aunt Anna.”
    Amanda straightened her shoulders. “I won’t.” She gave Psyche a tremulous sigh and marched out, looking for all the world like she was headed for her own execution.
    “Lord love a duck!” Curtis exclaimed when the door was safely shut. “That old lady has got to be missing something upstairs. I ain’t never seen such a horrendous gown! How could anyone buy such a thing on purpose?”
    Psyche smiled and settled again at her dressing table. “Wait till you see Aunt Anna’s gown. It’s the most bilious green, like—like pond scum.”
    Curtis shuddered. “The poor young lady! She must love Lord Overton a lot to take on such an awful woman as his mama.” Curtis grinned at her in the mirror, fussing with a curl. “But she’ll learn how to get on from you, milady. You always managed your mama real good. This plan of your’n, it’ll work, too.”
    Psyche grinned back. She and Curtis had long been friends. “I just hope Amanda doesn’t get impatient and rush things.” She glanced at the clock again. “It’s good we’ll have my hair done—so you’ll be free to help her.”
    When there remained but half an hour till the guests were expected, Psyche and Curtis exchanged glances. Before they could look away, a piercing scream echoed through the upper reaches of the house. “Right on time,” Psyche said, grinning. Then, clad in her wrapper, she raced down the hall.
    Aunt Anna blocked the door to Amanda’s room. She stood aghast, one large hand at her open mouth, the other clutching the door frame. “Oh no! Amanda! Your beautiful gown!”
    With her aunt’s shrieks threatening to split her eardrums, Psyche pushed past her into the room. Amanda stood in the middle of the floor, still swathed in persimmon silk. But down the gown’s front, and spreading across its ruffled layers, ran a series of ink spots.
    Psyche swallowed a smile. Amanda had followed instructions to perfection. The ink blots were large and prominently placed. There was no way on earth to disguise them. And no time to even try to remove them.
    “Oh dear! Oh dear!” Aunt Anna wailed, frantically wringing her hands. “What shall we do? You can’t appear in public all spotted with ink like that.” She frowned. “And why on earth were you writing in your new gown?”
    Amanda’s lower lip trembled and a big tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I— I just wished to record my thoughts about this happy day.”
    “Well, you have quite ruined your lovely gown,” Aunt Anna lamented. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but I just don’t know what we can do! It will all be spoiled, ruined. The whole come-out. All the flowers and food. We’ll have to call it--”
    Psyche crossed the room. “Dear Aunt Anna, do calm down. Perhaps I can help. I have in my armoire a gown that might fit Amanda.”
    Aunt Anna sighed piteously and wrung her hands. “But you’re much taller than she.”
    “Yes, I know. That’s why I haven’t worn the gown. It was too short for me. But I just didn’t get around to taking it to the dressmaker to be fixed.”
    Aunt Anna exhaled loudly. “Well, I suppose it will have to do. Such a shame, that beautiful, beautiful gown. All those lovely ruffles.”
    Putting both hands to her temples, she backed out of the door.