Seeking Philbert Woodbead ( A Madcap Regency Romance ) (The Fairweather Sisters)

by Wylde, Anya

  “You could have fallen and broken your neck.”

  Celine tilted her head back and found George gazing down at her.

  “You are not smiling,” she said frowning.

  “No, I am not,”

  “I have never seen your eyes so grim.”

  He pushed her away, “Why did you leave your room? Didn’t the duchess tell you to rest?”

  “I didn’t want to rest. I was bored. Please stop shouting.”

  “A lady must always be useful,” he said sarcastically. “Were you looking for your knitting needles?”

  The fog in her brain was fading and she was better able to judge his tone. She had never seen him like this before. His mouth was twisted and his eyes flashed in fury.

  “I am sorry, I heard a shout.”

  “I don’t care what you heard. Hundreds of servants in the house could have gone and investigated. You were meant to stay in your room.”

  “Lord Elmer,” she said softly, “I didn’t fall. I am alright.”

  The anger went out of him, and he closed his eyes and rested his head against her forehead.

  “You are alright,” he repeated.

  Her throat seemed too full suddenly to make a sound, so she nodded. Her nose brushed against his.

  His hand once again went around her waist and he pulled her closer, “Celine,” he began.

  “Amy,” she whispered back.

  “Amy, go back to bed.”

  She could tell he was smiling from his voice. “We have been chased by murderous pirates and you have never turned a hair. How come a little fainting spell frightened you?” she teased, lifting her lashes and searching his face.

  His eyes dropped to her lips, “That was before I knew—”

  “Dorothy,” someone yelled.

  “That was Penelope,” Celine cried, slipping under his arms. “I have to see ….”

  “Amy, stop,” George shouted chasing after her.

  She ignored his calls and only halted once she had reached the bottom step.

  Penelope stood holding Dorothy’s hand in a firm grip. The duke was glowering.

  “What is the matter?” Celine asked.

  “Celine, didn’t you say I could have a pet? I asked you,” Dorothy babbled the moment she saw her.

  “Yes, and I said that you may as long as the duke agrees,” Celine replied.

  “And he did, didn’t he? You were in the room when I asked.”

  Celine nodded.

  Dorothy turned to Penelope triumphantly.” I told you I had permission to keep a pet.”

  “Dorothy, please introduce Celine to your pet,” Penelope ordered in a tight voice.

  Dorothy gulped but did as she was told. “Tommy, this is Celine, the greatest sister in the whole world. She is never angry and has the sweetest of temperaments …” Penelope made an impatient noise and she hurriedly continued, “and, Celine, this is my pet … Tommy the chimney sweep.”

  Celine gaped at the little soot faced boy in horror. “This is your pet?”

  Dorothy nodded, “Look at his little face, isn’t he angelic? Do you know he has to climb up chimneys to clean them, and when he grows older and bigger, he will get stuck up there and never come down? How could I leave the fellow starving? He is the best pet I have ever had. He loves bread and milk … He learns so quickly and, oh, don’t make me give him away.”

  Penelope’s mouth turned down, “Charles, the fellow is so small. Can’t we—”

  “No,” the duke said, his eyes shifting from Dorothy to his wife in terror. “We are not keeping a chimney sweep as a pet.”

  George chuckled from behind Celine.

  “Can’t we adopt him?” Penelope insisted, her hand going to her belly.

  “Dorothy, go to the nursery. Leave Tommy here,” Celine said firmly. It was time to sort things out. “Penny, you cannot adopt the boy. His mother will be looking for him. Won’t she?” she asked turning to the boy.

  The boy shook his head.

  “Then your father will be looking for you?”

  The boy shook his head again.

  “Do you have a home?”

  He shrugged.

  “Can you talk?”

  He stuck a thumb into his mouth.

  “How old are you?”

  He held up six fingers.

  Celine sighed, her hand going up to rub her temples.

  Lord Elmer grabbed her elbow, “I think the duke can handle this one dilemma. You need to rest.”

  She hated to admit it, but he was right. She turned to go when a manly sob made her turn back around.

  Hopkins, the duke’s valet, was shedding fat drops of tears. “If you don’t mind, your grace, can I keep the fellow?”

  “I think I am better equipped to keep him,” the housekeeper spoke up from behind the pillar.

  “He is my pet,” Dorothy screeched from between the bannisters.

  “Perhaps I …” Gunhilda started to say.

  Celine did not hear the rest. Lord Elmer pulled her away from the scene and up the stairs and into the room. He pushed her inside and closed the door.

  Celine lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A moment later she heard another shout, but this time she ignored it and closed her eyes. She was asleep within moments.

  ***

  After dinner George walked Celine to her bedroom. It was not what an unmarried gentleman should do with a gently bred woman, and yet the action barely drew a gasp from her. She had somewhere along their acquaintance resigned herself to the fact that, alas, he was not a gentleman and never would be.

  “We should be going to the library,” she said. “I am fine. I slept all evening.”

  “Not tonight,” he replied firmly. “You need to rest.”

  “But we need to discuss the plan for tomorrow. Time is speeding away and we have to scheme in greater detail. We were almost caught today,” she argued.

  “If you don’t want to sleep, then don’t, but I certainly do. I spent all day inventing falsehoods, and that duke is a sharp devil and difficult to dupe. It taxed my brain awfully. We won’t be able to do anything concrete with my brain feeling like something soft and shapeless.”

  She sneezed and reluctantly nodded.

  “Bless you and may your wits come back to you,” he said handing her a snowy handkerchief.

  She took it and rubbed her itchy red nostrils. “What happened right after I lost consciousness? What did you tell the duke?”

  George smiled. “I have worked with the best of ruffians, scoundrels and swindlers, my dear. I simply used my finely honed wits and—” He stopped at the look in her eye. “I will get to the meat of the matter. As soon as you swooned, I lifted you up and carried you indoors. And while the duchess took care of you and the duke took care of the duchess, I slipped out and begged Gunhilda to agree to the fact that she had indeed accompanied us on our drive into town.”

  “Where did you say we went?” she asked, pausing outside her room door.

  “I told the duke that Gunhilda’s sister happens to live close by and she was going through some sort of a feminine pickle. They needed you to sort things out for them. The duke thought it prudent not to dig too deep.”

  “I see, and how did you convince Gunhilda? I didn’t think she could be bribed.”

  “I did not bribe her, I blackmailed her.”

  Celine gurgled.

  George took that as an encouragement to continue, “A few nights ago I caught her kissing the cook in the kitchen. That disturbing vision became exceedingly helpful when I was trying to convince her of our predicament this evening. I only had to mention it once.”

  Celine was shocked, but she was also amused.

  “How could you do such a horrid thing?” She giggled and frowned at the same time.

  “If I had not, then the duke would have insisted that I marry you or he would have shot me through the heart,” he said leaning towards her.

  The look in his eye made her bite her lip. “Yes, neither opt
ion sounds good.”

  “Would you have married me to save my life?” He moved closer to her. His hand came up to rest next to her head.

  Her back hit the door, and she looked at his wrist resting within kissing distance. Her breath whooshed out and did not return for a long while.

  His other hand slid around her waist, and his eyes darkened.

  Her heart started banging in her ribs eager to leap out of her chest and offer itself to him on a gilded platter.

  He whispered softly, “Tell me, Amy, would you rather have the duke shoot me or would you have agreed to marry me?”

  She heard the words as if from a distance. His scent teased her nose, his lips curved up in a taunting smile. He was daring her, daring her to be bold, frivolous and not at all sensible. Her back arched towards him, her limbs fighting with the angry Mrs Beatle yowling in her brain.

  “Amy, shoot or marry?” he coaxed, his fingers gripping her waist a touch harder.

  “Shoot you,” she replied huskily. Her hand snuck up and grasped his lapels.

  His lips turned up in a wicked smile. “You are the only woman I would allow to crease my coat,” he said, his lips a breath away from hers.

  “I feel privileged,” she replied unsteadily, her mouth parting in invitation.

  “What are you doing?” Penelope called.

  They leaped apart.

  “What were you doing?” Penelope repeated. She raised a brow and her foot tapped as she waited for them to respond.

  “There was a fly in her eye,” George burst out. “Yes, a fly in her eye which I was removing.”

  “He is right, fly in this eye,” Celine hurriedly agreed. As an afterthought, she fluttered and blinked her right eye.

  “You look like you are having some sort of a spasm, Celine,” Penelope said. “I thought you were kissing.”

  “You should be in bed,” Celine muttered. “Go to bed.”

  “I can’t sleep when I am hungry,” Penelope replied.

  “What do you want? I will bring it to your room. You are not allowed to walk around,” Celine said hurriedly.

  “I want the smelliest fish in the kitchen, and drizzle some honey over it,” Penelope requested.

  “I will bring it.”

  Penelope eyed George up and down and back again. Her expression was dubious as she shuffled off to her room.

  “I have to go,” Celine mumbled, barely looking George in the eye.

  “Wait,” he called.

  She ignored him and gripping her skirts sprinted towards the kitchens.

  Chapter 23

  The moment Lord Elmer’s shiny brown shoes disappeared around the corner, Celine crawled out from behind the potted plant. Still on all fours she made her way towards her bedroom. She had managed to avoid him since last night even if at times she had been forced to resort to improper means.

  Lord Elmer, she mused, as she turned around the corner and passed between Perkins’ shocked legs, was the type of fellow that made the very air around her contort and become conducive to mischief making. Whenever he was in the vicinity, somehow her brain forgot every line of the learned Mrs Beatle’s book for accomplished English ladies and instead made her feel like an Athanasian wench.

  Which was why, she mused, as she circumvented Hopkins' knees, she had decided to stop spending time with Lord Elmer.

  Truth be told, it wasn’t Lord Elmer’s fault. It was the kiss that threatened her at every opportunity. Every time Lord Elmer came near her, the kiss became an almost tangible presence fluttering in the background, lurking, tempting and mocking her, and with every passing day it moved closer and closer. Last night it had been a hair’s breath away from smacking her in the face.

  She sighed as she rose and entered her bedroom. She had to remain loyal to her Philly. As for Lord Elmer, she had to admit he had behaved admirably. He had not encouraged the kiss and lord knew how much she had at sensitive moments wanted him to encourage it.

  No, it was best to avoid him for now or at least until the butterflies in her belly that started summersaulting at the sight of him calmed down. And if she had no choice but to meet him, say tonight at dinner for instance, then she would make sure that she had a chaperone with her at all times.

  The presence of others would prevent her from leaping across the dinner table, grabbing his face in her hands and … She stopped that thought from going any further and pulled open the windows. She stuck her head out in the evening air and panted for a few minutes. The cold stench of London air soon extinguished all thoughts of Lord Elmer and kisses.

  She began dressing for dinner. She wore the heliotrope with pink roses, a colour that particularly suited her. She made Gwerful do her hair twice, and for once a small curl was allowed to escape the bun and kiss her forehead.

  “Are you wanting to look nice for the special meal, Miss?” Gwerful asked as she placed the final pin in Celine’s hair.

  “Special meal?”

  “Yes, Lord Elmer wants to dine outdoors.”

  “Truly?” Celine asked in amusement, “in this weather and that too in the evening?”

  “I thought you knew, Miss.”

  Celine pushed her feet into soft gold slippers, “Lord Elmer will have to dine alone. Neither Sir Henry nor the duchess can venture outdoors.”

  “But the kitchen has been instructed to prepare a basket for everyone, even Sir Henry. Mary told me that she had it from the housekeeper herself.”

  “We will have to disappoint him then,” Celine said taking a last look at the mirror.

  “Amy,” George greeted her. He had been lurking outside her room, it seemed, waiting to catch her alone, “you look lovely.”

  He spoke as if nothing whatsoever had happened last evening. It hadn’t, but it could have. Celine scowled, “Lord Elmer, I cannot possibly go outside. It is too dark, and we don’t have a chaperone. Penelope expects me to dine with her—”

  “But this is for the duchess,” he interrupted.

  “The duke will never allow it.”

  “But he has,” George retorted smiling.

  Celine frowned, “I don’t understand.”

  He didn’t answer and instead steered her towards the dining room.

  “Perhaps this will explain it,” he said throwing open the doors.

  Celine gaped at the scene within.

  The dining room was a sober, elegant room created for the purpose of making every Blackthorne guest feel awed in the presence of its grandeur. It was a large room with a high ceiling from which dangled a low chandelier. And now only the chandelier remained.

  The long dining table with its silver candlesticks, the antique chairs with the gold brocade covers, and the dark red carpet with its swirly designs had been removed. The room had been transformed.

  George it seemed had decided that since the family could not eat outdoors, then the outdoors should come inside and dine with them. The floor had been covered with a dark green carpet and the room filled with potted plants and perfumed flowers.

  The windows were flung open, and the breeze with a hint of rain raced around the room in pleasure. The greenery was thick and lush enough to almost make you believe that you were outdoors. The dining room was further enchanted by pretty little glass lamps that twinkled by the dozen.

  In the middle of the room was a bright square cloth on which sat piles of fruits, breads, cold meats, pies and cheeses. Penelope and Sir Henry had been given comfortable ottomans piled high with cushions while the rest were meant to sit on the ground. Amazingly even Dorothy had been allowed to join them for dinner.

  “What a wonderful idea,” Celine said clapping her hands.

  Penelope beamed. “Lord Elmer had the whole household running around the mansion to arrange this meal. It was meant to be a surprise for me to cheer me up. Even Charles reluctantly agreed. Isn’t this wonderful?”

  Celine turned to him, her eyes shining, “Thank you,” she said. He had done it for the duchess and yet somehow deep down she felt that he had a
lso done this for her.

  He smiled back.

  From the corner of her eye Celine noticed Penelope nudging the duke and pointing in her direction. When Penelope began puckering her lips and smacking her lips together, she asked loudly, “What are we having for dinner?”

  “Lemonade, fruit cake, butter cake, biscuits,” Dorothy announced.

  “Salad, pies, beef, chicken, pork, fish, boiled eggs, peacocks, wild hares, breads,” Penelope added in an equally excited tone.

  “Mashed peas for me,” Sir Henry grumbled.

  “And some excellent wine,” the duke muttered. “I don’t know how I agreed to this.”

  “Because you love me and you knew it would make me happy,” Penelope said smiling at her grumpy husband.

  “It has made everyone happy,” George said biting into a piece of cheese. His eyes were on Celine.

  Celine blushed and plucked a grape.

  “Salt,” Sir Henry barked from the top of the silk cushions.

  Dorothy grabbed the ivory salter and threw it towards Sir Henry. “Catch.”

  Celine watched horrified as Sir Henry panicked and dangerously seesawed, the silk cushions not giving enough of a grip for his breeches to adhere to. He somehow found his balance and at the same time swatted the salter. The salter flew into the air, the top came off and the fine grains of salt fell like rain drops on top of all the food.

  “I am sorry,” Dorothy’s lip trembled in remorse, “I didn’t think.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Penelope soothed. “We can brush off the salt.”

  Celine patted Dorothy’s head, “Most of the food is fine, Dory.”

  “I like my food salty,” George added.

  Even Sir Henry and the duke muttered something comforting.

  Dorothy smiled and the merry atmosphere soon trickled back into the dining room.

  Celine went back to nibbling on her bread while George tried to catch her eye. She pretended not to notice him.

  He flicked a morsel at her.

  She brushed it off and turned her back on him.

  George on the pretext of reaching for the butter shifted closer to her, his knee touching hers.

  She blushed and looked at him from the corner of her eye.

  George grinned. He placed a cushion over her hand and now sat holding it.