A Matchmaker's Match by Nina Coombs Pykare

food to feed an army. She filled a plate and sat down; eating alone was no novelty to her. When she had finished, she sat back with a cup of tea and summoned a footman. “Find Miss Caldecott and tell her I wish to speak to her in my room, as soon as possible.”
    The footman nodded. “Yes, milady.”
    Psyche finished her tea and started back up the stairs. This coming interview with Amanda was not going to be pleasant. She could not even be sure the girl had enough understanding to follow what she was going to try to tell her. Certainly Amanda had not seemed particularly bright so far.
    Mounting the great staircase, Psyche sighed. The earl was going to be so bored, so overcome with ennui— That is, if he decided to marry Amanda.
    What a tangle! To make Amanda happy she must make the earl unhappy. Not on purpose, of course. But how could the man be happy leg-shackled to a veritable child? Some men, of course, preferred young brides, gullible girls who could easily be trained to obedience.
    Psyche snorted and nearly missed a step. Obedience, indeed! The very idea put women on par with animals. It was indecent. And it did not seem like the kind of thing the earl would do.
    She reached her room, sent Curtis on an errand, and settled down on the chaise longue to wait.
    She didn’t wait long. Five minutes later a knock sounded. “Come in,” Psyche called, bracing herself.
    The door opened and Amanda said stiffly, “Did you wish to see me?”
    “Yes,” Psyche said. “Come over here and sit down.”
    Amanda came slowly, her face showing reluctance.
    “Pull up that chair,” Psyche said. “We need to talk.”
    Amanda pulled up the chair and perched on the edge of it, obviously ready to take flight.
    “You are upset with me,” Psyche said. “Because the earl has been carrying me about.”
    Amanda nodded, twisting her ribbons. “Yes, I am! I don’t see how you can expect him to ask to marry me when he’s always carting you about. It-- It doesn’t look good.”
    Psyche sighed. Overton’s sentiments, no doubt. “It does look strange,” she admitted. “But the earl is a friend of Overton and I am Overton’s cousin.”
    “I know that,” Amanda said. “But you still don’t have to let the earl carry you about.”
    Psyche swallowed a sigh. “He won’t be carrying me anymore. You’ll be pleased to hear that my ankle is better today and I can walk by myself. You see, the earl was just being friendly, helpful.”
    Amanda’s pink lips pursed in a pout. “Very friendly. Lady Linden says—”
    “Lady Linden!” Psyche rubbed her temples, where a great headache hovered, ready to pounce. “How can you possibly believe that horrible woman?” She threw her arms heavenward, her patience exhausted. “Fine! Ask her to manage your come-out!”
    Amanda’s pout vanished and her face crumpled into tears. “Oh no, not Lady Linden! She’s just terrible. I couldn’t stand it.” Tears stood in her bright blue eyes. “Oh, milady, please help me. I know I’m a foolish girl. But I do love him so.”
    Psyche swallowed another sigh, her head beginning to pound. What did this child know of love? “Amanda, love isn’t always the best measure of happiness. I know you want to marry the earl, but think— Would you be happy with him?” She paused, but Amanda didn’t answer. “Wouldn’t you have a more pleasant existence with a man nearer your own age?”
    Amanda’s blue eyes widened. She sniffled and twisted her handkerchief, avoiding Psyche’s gaze. Then she said, “Milady, I don’t want to marry the earl.”
    Psyche’s heart threatened to jump right out of her mouth. She almost leaped to her feet to shout with joy. But could she possibly be hearing right? “You don’t? But you said--”
    “I said I want him to ask me,” Amanda explained patiently, as though to an ignorant child. “But I don’t really want to marry him.”
    Psyche stared at the girl in bewilderment. “Amanda, please, if I’m to help you I’ve