Cupid's Mistake (Cupid Regency Romance) (16 page)

Psyche sighed and smiled at him, clearly relieved.
"Don't shoot any arrows at Cassandra. I would feel horrid if she became all silly like the Mademoiselle Lavoisin and the Comte de la Fer. Could you . . . could you make Lord Blytheland the way he was before you shot any of your arrows at him?"

"
It won't work if I do, Psyche."

She pressed her lips together and lifted her chin stubbornly.
"They have met already, and have got to know each other. I don't think they need any more help with your arrows."

Harry stared at her for a few more moments, wondering why he bothered with her or the Hathaway family
. . . but the thought of leaving them made him feel even more odd than that remorse-like thing he'd felt earlier.

"
Oh, very well!" he said. He made a face at her, feeling childishly better for doing it—well, was he not in boy- form, after all?—but Psyche merely smiled at him gratefully.

"
Thank you! You are a true friend, Harry! You'll see, they'll come about properly!" She looked away from him toward where her sister had sat, but Cassandra was gone.

"
Don't worry," Harry said. "Lord Blytheland's gone with them, it seems. I'll find them." He selected an arrow from his quiver, a different one than he'd used before, and rose into the air. He sighed. Perhaps Psyche was right. . . but he doubted it. He was the god of love, after all, and no mortal knew more of love than he did, especially not a young girl.

Chapter
8

Miss Hathaway, Lord Eldon noted, kept glancing at him, and he could not help wondering why. He had never received so much attention from her before.

"I think I need to walk a little—I feel a little stiff from travel still," Miss Hathaway said. She put down her fork on the plate the servant had given her. She had hardly touched the food, although she had taken a little lemonade and then wine. Lord Eldon caught another glance from her. He could see also Blytheland turning toward them at her words, but she did not look toward the marquess at all. Lord Eldon felt a stirring of curiosity. Something in the wind? he wondered.

"
I would be most happy to oblige, Miss Hathaway," he said, and smiled at her. He rose and offered his hand. She returned an uncertain smile and put her hand in his. Lord Eldon risked a glance at his friend and almost burst out laughing. Blytheland's expression was a mix of surprise and irritation. So much for his insistence that she was only "a superb pianist," to him, eh? He could tell his friend was madly in love with Miss Hathaway, and she would be perfect for him. He had disliked Chloe from the start, and he often thought she still had her claws in Blythe even though she was gone. Well, there was nothing like a bit of rivalry to get a man to realize what he might be losing.

Eldon turned to the lady at his side.
"And where would you like to stroll, ma'am?"

She glanced at him, again uncertainly.
"I. . . I think perhaps the gardens, by the maze. It seems very pretty there, and I would like to see the flowers."

"
It would be my pleasure."

They walked up the rise to where the gardens formed the entrance to the maze. They conversed about the weather and Miss Hathaway exclaimed over the flowers. Lord Eldon noted with amusement that it was the most desultory and unenlightening conversation he had ever had with her. Something must be bothering her, he thought, and it must have to do with my dear old friend. How amusing. Miss Hathaway must have more than a passing fancy for Blythe, he was sure of it. But why did she choose him, Eldon, to escort her to the garden?

He watched her as she spoke of more inconsequential things and noted a rising blush in her cheeks. A mischievous urge rose in him. He would so much like to see how much pinker Miss Hathaway could blush.

"
I see you must be a little overheated, ma'am. Perhaps you would like to sit for a little while?" He was rewarded by seeing her turn two shades more pink than before.

"
Yes, yes please. Perhaps over there on that bench, where it is private." A guilty look appeared in her eyes, and her cheeks turned positively red.

Private? thought Lord Eldon. Well, well. Now what?

They sat, and Miss Hathaway arranged her skirts around her neatly, and then fiddled with them some more. They were somewhat in shadow, for part of the hedge and ivy that covered the maze overhung the marble bench on which they sat. Eldon removed his hat, looked at her downcast gaze, and waited, suppressing a wide grin. Poor Miss Hathaway! She was no doubt getting up the courage to say something, but what?

She looked up earnestly at him.
"Lord Eldon, will you kiss me?" she said, all in a rush.

"
Eh?"

"
Kiss me. For—for experimental purposes, you see."

Lord Eldon paused before he spoke, trying to put strong control over his overwhelming urge to laugh. Oh, Lord! Was that what this was all about? And why in the world did she feel she had to do this? He thought of Blytheland and wondered if he had kissed her—probably. He certainly had the chance to do so at the Marchmont ball!

"For experimental purposes?" he managed to reply after a short struggle with another upsurge of laughter.

"
Oh, please don't be offended, my lord! I like you very well, and I was wondering if, if your kiss would be like— That is, what your kiss would be like."

"
Oh, is that it? Well, I would be most happy to oblige, Miss Hathaway. For experimental purposes, of course."

"
Would you?"

"
Yes."

"
Oh." She stared at him for a moment and then put on a resolute expression. She closed her eyes and presented her face.

Lord Eldon gazed at her for a long moment. Oh, he shouldn
't. He really shouldn't. But his deeply ingrained mischievousness could not let this priceless moment pass by. Especially when he noted from the corner of his eye his dear old friend Blythe coming up the path. He bent over Miss Hathaway and kissed her firmly on the lips.

They parted, and she looked up at him, clearly puzzled.
"That was pleasant, Lord Eldon, but. . . Did it feel pleasant to you?"

"
Most pleasant, Miss Hathaway," he replied. He had to admit to feeling a bit warmer than usual. La Hathaway was, after all, a most delectable young lady.

"
What the devil is the meaning of all this?" The marquess stood before them, his hands balled tightly into fists, fury writ clear in his eyes.

Miss Hathaway rose hastily and pressed her hands to her mouth. Lord Eldon stood as well, but more slowly, and carefully brushed the dust from his coattails.

"What did it look like, Blythe-my-old?" Eldon replied provocatively.

"
It looked damn well like you were kissing Miss Hathaway! I don't take well to having any of my female guests molested!"

"
Molested? Strong words, old man." He turned to the lady by his side. "Was I molesting you, ma'am?"

"
Oh, no! I—I asked him to kiss me, you see," Miss Hathaway replied.

"
You did
what!
?" Blytheland's voice rose.

"
It was for—for an experiment. I asked him to kiss me."

Poor Miss Hathaway! She looked more and more distressed. Lord Eldon sighed regretfully. He really should put a stop to this.

"Look here, Blytheland. It was all very innocent. In fact, I knew you were coming up the hill and I couldn't help tweaking at you a little. Being a bit of a dog in the manger, don't you think? You never said you had any claim on her—denied it, in fact. And I did tell you I thought I might try for her affections myself, since you didn't say I shouldn't."

"
You said you'd have a touch at her! By God, Eldon that was a damn sight more than a touch! I should call you out for this!"

"
No!" cried Cassandra.

Both men ignored her.

"Nonsense, my old. You know I wouldn't oblige; I detest arising before eleven o'clock. Besides, I know you wouldn't shoot me—I wouldn't shoot you! We've been friends too long, and it would cause a devil of a scandal for Miss Hathaway here."

The marquess turned a blazing look on Miss Hathaway.
"Scandal! If she were sunk in it, it would be all that she deserves!"

"
Now, just a moment, Blythe!" Eldon said sternly. "If I were so inclined, I would call you out for that. You heard her. She has no more notion about kisses than an infant. If anything, your argument should be with me."

"
No, no! It was all my fault!" Cassandra cried. "I asked him to—truly, I did! It was an experiment!"

Blytheland turned to her and grasped her by the shoulders.
"You little idiot! Anyone could have seen you here!
I
certainly did!"

"
Idiot! I am not an idiot!"

"
It was certainly stupid of you to kiss Eldon here in full view of the lake!"

Lord Eldon wondered if it would be discreet or cowardly if he left the two of them to join the rest of the company at the lake. It was clearly a lover
's quarrel and a third party would definitely be
de trop
. He gazed at the marquess and Miss Hathaway, both of whom looked furiously into each other's eyes.

"
Ahem. If you two don't mind, I thought I might go back to the lake . . . ?" Eldon said tentatively. "I still feel a trifle sharp-set. Thought I might see if there was any of the luncheon left over."

"
It was not in full view of the lake! You can see clearly for yourself how we were hidden!"

"
Oh? And if so, then why did I notice it?"

They were clearly not interested in his presence at all. Lord Eldon decided that leaving would probably be discreet more than not. And perhaps getting whatever problem was between them aired would be for the better. He picked up his hat, set it neatly on his head, and after an elegant bow in the couple
's direction, sauntered back down to the remains of the luncheon.

Lord Blytheland still grasped Cassandra by her shoulders.
"I have never known anyone so indiscreet as you, Miss Cassandra Hathaway! By God, if you are not sending people to point-non-plus in the most embarrassing way with your blunt comments, you are letting yourself be kissed by all and sundry—and in full view of God knows who! Or perhaps you don't particularly care who sees you."

"
I only try to speak the truth, my lord," Cassandra replied furiously. "And as for truth—I do not know how you dare to say I let myself be kissed by 'all and sundry'! You have been the only other one who has kissed me. I asked Lord Eldon to do so only for an experiment."

"
An experiment!" The marquess sneered. He stared at her, rage boiling up inside of him, almost choking him. He had wanted to give her another chance, and she took it— showing her true colors. She lifted her chin—Chloe used to do the same thing when she wished to have her own way. How similar were they? He did not truly know, and God, he wished he did.

"
You need not sneer, you horrid man! I believed we were private, and—"

"
Private! That you should want to be private with—" He released her shoulders, but took her wrist in a tight grip instead. He needed to know, and he would find out, or he would go mad not knowing. A thought flashed through his mind that perhaps he was mad now, for never had he been seized with such anger, such agony, not even with Chloe. But he could not stop, not now. He pulled her toward the maze's entrance, and walked swiftly around one corner and another—right, left, and right again. "Private. You're so deuced indiscreet you don't know the meaning of the word!"

"
What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

"
Some place private, of course," Blytheland replied through clenched teeth. His steps were swift, and he could hear Cassandra almost running behind him. He turned right again, then left, another left, and two rights, and the enclosing hedges opened up to the center of the maze. A delicate Grecian gazebo stood in the middle of the small garden clearing, but Blytheland strode past it to the hedge behind it. He pushed aside some branches and heavy overhanging ivy, and revealed an old oaken door. He moved the handle, and the door creaked open. Pulling Cassandra through the door, he shut it firmly behind them.

He had not come here in a long time, not since Chloe died. He watched Cassandra look around her in an angry, bewildered way at the riot of blooms and flowering trees around her, and the sparkling fountain that cascaded
diamond-like drops of water into a mosaic pool. She turned and stared angrily at Blytheland instead. "And where is this, pray?"

"
This, my dear Cassandra, is the heart of the maze. It is a place so damned private that no one would see us together. No one would see anything we might do here. What a wonderful way to avoid scandal, yes?" He pulled her to him and lifted her chin so that she stared into his eyes. She was still angry. He felt a queer relief at it—perhaps he was wrong about her. He hoped she felt as furious as he did . . . but he needed to know, dear God, he needed to know. 'Tell me, my dear. Why did you kiss Eldon?"

"
I told you, it was an experiment! I wanted to find out how his kiss might compare with yours, and that was all!" She stamped her foot. It would have landed on his toe, but he moved it in time. "And I did not give you permission to use my Christian name!"

Anger seized him again.
"Oh, my. I think the blunt and truthful Miss Hathaway has told a lie! I definitely remember a ball, out on the terrace—"

Her face flamed red in memory, then paled again in clear fury.
"I did not say yes to your using my name!"

"
Then what did you say yes to? Kissing me? Do you always say yes to requests like that—or was that an experiment, too?"

"
No! Yes! Oh, you odious—!" She stamped her foot again.

"
Odious, am I? Are my kisses odious to you, too? Well, how does this compare with Eldon's?"

His lips took hers swiftly, hard against her mouth at first, but he let out a deep sigh and moved upon her lips more softly. How could he not? He drew away briefly, staring at her delicately formed lips. They were full and open, and he remembered them the way they were when she had played the piano at the musicale. It would be a sin not to savor them slowly, feeling every little indentation and curve against his own. Her green eyes were wide and startled as they looked into his. He felt he could drown in them. Blytheland gently brought his lips to hers again.