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

by Wylde, Anya

  “But I heard you snore.”

  “I am pregnant and that means mostly idle. I have been practising all sorts of things in my spare time and pretending to gently snore while I am wide awake is just one of the tricks that I have learnt. It is a talent worth acquiring.”

  “Continue,” Celine muttered.

  “I followed you both out of the room and into the dowager’s room. I stuck my ear to the door, overheard most of the conversation and waited until the duke departed to ask Hopkins to get the carriage ready. I then woke Mary, got a second carriage ready and followed you here.”

  While Penelope paused to take a breath, Celine said, “Now get back into the carriage and go home.”

  “I will not.”

  “You are not coming, Penny.”

  “I shall wait here, and if you do not return soon, then I will go looking for runners or the king.”

  “The king?”

  “I believe he is fond of the duke.”

  “I cannot leave you here alone and defenceless—” Her speech was cut short when Penelope pulled out a mean looking rifle.

  “That is not enough,” Celine objected.

  Penelope quietly produced three dainty pistols from inside her corset. Two more were inside her riding boots, and yet another was retrieved from the hidden pocket in her skirt.

  Celine took one of the pistols and pocketed it. “Still no—”

  Celine didn’t get to finish her sentence, for Penelope clapped her hands next and twelve maids poked their heads out of the carriage.

  They showed Celine their weapons which consisted of rolling pins, cast iron kettles, more pistols, rifles, and a couple of exceedingly low gowns with large bosoms on display.

  Celine stared at one of the maids in horror.

  The tall, long faced bony woman with a brooding expression holding a spear fluttered her lashes back at her.

  “Who is that?” Celine asked pointing to the woman.

  “I am not sure ….” Penelope frowned.

  “I will tell you who that is, Penny. It is the blasted poet Philbert Woodbead in disguise. Why did you bring that fool along?”

  “I didn’t know what he looked like, Celine. I have been confined to the Yellow Room and only heard of the pest,” Penelope replied testily.

  “Well, the deuced man is moving towards me, Penny. Now, I don’t have time to argue with you. Please return to the mansion and perhaps get the runners ready or the king’s men. Hurry,” Celine begged before racing towards the ship. She did not have time to untie one of the boats or the poet would be upon her, so she leaped into the cold, icy water and started swimming towards The Desperate Lark.

  “Celine,” Penelope called.

  Celine spat out the water and turned to look at the duchess.

  “Are you certain that you are doing the right thing?” Penelope yelled. “Is it proper?”

  “An accomplished lady always follows her man in order to save him, and men always need saving,” Celine shouted back. “And stop screaming or the bloody pirates will hear you. Go home.”

  Penelope grinned, and Celine turned back around and once more made her way towards the sloop style, hundred ton pirate ship that could easily hold seventy full grown men.

  She used the rope ladder hanging on the side to climb up and slip onto the deck at the back of the ship.

  She bit her lip and glanced at the pistol with a mother of pearl handle that the duchess had presented to her. Next, she looked towards the cannons dotting the deck and gulped.

  Taking a deep breath she bravely moved forward.

  Squelch, squelch, splurt went her water laden slippers.

  She clamped down on fearful thoughts, pulled off the slippers and shoved them into her pocket. Any further exploration would have to be done on bare tippy toes.

  She had never been on a ship before and knew not where to go or what to expect, and it was too late to turn back now, so she slithered forward and found what seemed to be a small cabin door on the right.

  A sleepy, lethal looking creature opened the cabin door and looked upon Celine in surprise.

  Celine quickly yanked her corset lower and smiled.

  “Arr,” the man grinned back, his eyes pinned to her bosom.

  While he was thus entranced Celine grabbed the cabin door, slammed it on the creature’s head, and as soon as he fell unconscious to the floor, she pushed him back inside the cabin praying that he would not wake too soon from his unwanted nap.

  She once again slithered forward, keeping her eyes, ears and nose peeled at all times. She could hear a few men singing a pirate song. She caught an occasional line or two which sounded like,

  ‘Barrels of rum, wenches and bum, together we shall sail to Ballynoonum.’

  She stopped next to yet another cabin door and rubbed her arms. The wind flirting with her drenched clothes had chilled her to her very bones. She hummed the catchy pirate song as she spent a few precious moments planning her next step. Where, she wondered, did pirates keep prisoners?

  She tried to attack the question from a different angle. If she wanted to imprison and torture someone in the Blackthorne Mansion, where would she hide him? The dungeon she concluded with certainty. Therefore, it was a great possibility that George too was hidden in the ship’s equivalent to a dungeon.

  She started walking again, and this time her steps were sure and purposeful. She needed to find the stairs that led below decks. Up ahead she spotted a man dressed in a red velvet coat, violet hat and dark green trousers leap through a hole in the ground. Only the captain could be so finely dressed.

  She inched her way closer to the hole. Standing on the tip of her toes she leaned forward trying to see what lay below. She could see nothing.

  She could see nothing because firstly she was too far away from the hole. So far away, in fact, that even if she lay prostrate on the ground, she still wouldn’t be able to see it. And her upper body’s eighty degree tilt was not helping matters except to give her calf a cramp. Secondly, she couldn’t see down the hole because her eyes were squeezed shut. A sudden fright had seized hold of her limbs.

  She used her finger tips to prise open her lids.

  She forced her form to unbend and straighten.

  She pushed her legs to move forward until she reached the very edge of the hole. Before her courage failed her she closed her eyes and jumped.

  Chapter 31

  She landed in what looked like a black pit, but once her eyes adjusted, she realised it was a corridor. A dying candle lying on a side table tinted everything in shades of orange and dark brown.

  The muffled sounds of someone speaking reached her ears. She clutched the pistol with both hands and hugging it to her chest made her way towards the sound. It came from a partially open door on the right side of the corridor. She plastered her back to the wall next to the door and inched her ear closer to the crack. The voices became louder.

  “Hand him over now,” someone requested in a half-hearted voice that sounded like the duke.

  “You don’t seem to want him very much,” drawled a bored stranger’s voice.

  “He is a pest, Rover,” the duke replied.

  “Then let me keep him.”

  “I would, but my wife and her sister are awfully fond of him.”

  “Why?”

  “I ask myself that question every single day.”

  “I would like to keep him for a while and torture him. Surely you will enjoy that? You sound like you would. You can watch.”

  “No, thank you. I would rather wait here until you are finished with him. How long do you think the torture will take? You won’t kill him afterwards, will you?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet. You see, the fellow stole my mother’s recipe and my mother discovered the theft. She has not spoken to me since. The moment we docked here, she stormed off to visit her sister who lives in this town. When she returns, I will produce the thief in front of her and ask her what she would like to do with him. She may want t
o dine with his head decorating the desert table, who knows. I can make no promises.”

  “You are extremely well spoken—”

  “Flattery shall not work,” the Black Rover replied sharply.

  “My men have surrounded this ship. If I don’t return soon, they will come aboard and rescue not only Elmer but also take half your wealth.”

  “The ship has no treasures. We buried it. You are welcome to biscuits crawling with weevils.”

  “My men will kill you,” the duke threatened.

  “By the time we spot them approaching the ship, I would have shot you through the heart and tossed you overboard effectively turning you into flotsam. Thereafter, I will set sail for calmer waters.”

  “I don’t like you.”

  “I already told you flattery will get you nowhere.”

  Celine closed her eyes in annoyance. The duke and the Black Rover were now discussing how they would kill each other. They seemed to be fighting over who could give the other a more gruesome death.

  “My men will feed you to bloodthirsty flesh tearing fish,” the pirate was telling the duke nonchalantly.

  “My men will tie your wrists and ankles to iron chains and then using the latest torture instrument pull your limbs apart,” the duke responded.

  Celine shook her head in disgust and walked away. It seemed she would have to save George and come back for the duke later.

  She tiptoed her way down the corridor feeling a touch braver knowing that the Black Rover was busy arguing with the duke and most of the men were singing pirate songs up at the top. Now all she had to do was find the stairs that led to the bottom of the ship.

  She found the stairs easily enough. It was right at the end of the corridor.

  She crept down the stairs wrinkling her nose as she went lower and lower into the belly of the ship. The fresh marine scent gave way to a damp musty smell, mingled with something that smelled like bad cheese and … She sniffed cautiously … a bit of rotten eggs, a hint of wet dogs, with a liberal sprinkling of freshly plucked roses.

  She reached the bottom rung, the odour now strong enough to have wriggled its way into her mouth. With her nose and mouth scrunched up in revulsion, she stepped into the bilge.

  This part of the ship was clearly kept for creatures no better than water rats. A single candle up ahead threw a measly glow illuminating a lump of dirty wood here, a broken bottle there and nothing much else.

  She moved in further, the light grew brighter and she found doors on either side of the long passageway. George was certain to be in one of the rooms here.

  She hung outside a couple of doors hoping for a sound or a hint as to what lay inside. Learning nothing she started opening the doors.

  The first few rooms turned out to be no more than dark holes with a small chair and a cot. Still others were completely empty. She finally found one that contained a sleeping person. The violent red hair peeking out from beneath the sheets had her quickly back away. That was certainly not George.

  The room right next to the carrot top contained yet another person. This one was awake. He looked like a potbellied grandfather, his smile angelic and his eyes inviting her to come closer.

  She opened the door wider letting the candle light illuminate the room further.

  He was a prisoner she realised. He was tied to a chair. An ally she immediately thought brightening. He looked like a kindly old man. He would be sure to help.

  Smiling she moved closer to him, her hands inching towards the ropes that tied his feet together. She would free him and he would return the favour by helping her find George.

  Someone growled.

  She jumped in fright and turned around to look behind her.

  Someone barked.

  In horror she turned back towards the kindly old man.

  “Did you just growl and bark?” she asked him nervously.

  He beamed at her and asked her if she was a parrot.

  A parrot she queried?

  He gave two shorts barks followed by a short nod.

  She smiled and nodded back and continued to smile and nod until she had inched her way out of the room.

  In the passageway she waited a moment for her heart to stop racing. The loony prisoner had given her a dreadful fright.

  Footsteps sounded behind her setting her heart racing once again.

  She waited poised and quivering trying to ascertain if the footsteps were coming towards her or moving away.

  The steps grew louder.

  In another moment whoever it was would be upon her, and then she would be caught, imprisoned and locked in one of these rooms forever. Years later when her face had wrinkled and hair gone grey, she too would bark and perhaps crow at people and ask them if they were egg laying hens.

  She shook her head dispelling the fog and dived sideways. With an inward squeak, she landed inside yet another room. Her shoulder complained as it crashed into the hard wooden floor, and her foot moved instinctively to close the door.

  She lay stunned for a moment, her heart in her mouth.

  The footsteps came to a halt outside the door.

  She prayed that whoever it was had not heard her hit the floor.

  The sound of shuffling feet reached her … Was he trying to open the door?

  She gripped the pistol and aimed it towards the door.

  “Celine?” a voice whispered behind her.

  Biting down a scream she spun around … and found a cheerful George tied to a chair in the corner.

  Her eyes widened and she lowered the pistol. “George,” she mouthed putting a finger to her lips and pointing at the door.

  He nodded in understanding.

  They waited for a few more terrifying moments until the footsteps finally receded.

  When all was quiet outside, she stuck the pistol between her breasts and pounced on George showering him with kisses. She was still too unnerved to speak.

  “I am learning to love being the damsel in distress,” George remarked.

  The sound of his voice brought her back to the present. Her face suffused in a blush, she mumbled, “I should untie you.”

  “Not at all. Let me stay tied up for a touch longer. I don’t think I have enjoyed being rescued quite so much before. No, no, truly don’t untie me. A few more kisses and then you can do with me what you like.”

  “Oh, hush,” Celine said, her hands busy tugging on the ropes to free him.

  “Celine?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Why are you drenched?”

  “I was swimming.”

  “You swam? To come and save me?”

  “No, for leisure. I was paddling in a pond with swans and ducks,” she said in frustration. Unknotting the rope was turning out to be the hardest task of all.

  “You are afraid of water.”

  “I am more afraid of losing you,” she said with a catch in her throat.

  “Celine?”

  “What?” she asked in annoyance. If only he would stay quiet for a minute, she almost had him free.

  “I have a knife in my boot.”

  “Why didn’t you say so before?” she growled, lunging for his boots and pulling them off.

  “Because I had missed you dreadfully. I wanted to spend a few minutes talking to you.”

  “Can we converse once we are on land and away from danger?”

  “Once we are on land, will you stop being annoyed?”

  “I will.”

  “And will you also tell me how much you love me?”

  “You are free,” she said instead.

  He caught her around the waist and pulled her closer. “We should spend some moments kissing now to celebrate my freedom.”

  “No, we will go up onto the deck, and you will jump overboard and swim to the shore while I will go back and save the duke.”

  He sighed and released her, “You will swim to the shore while I will save the duke.”

  “Can we discuss this outside? I feel like someone will come around t
he corner at any moment and lock us both in.”

  He caught her hand and with a quick look outside raced up the stairs.

  George knew his way around the ship, which was why they were soon standing in fresh air and morning light.

  “I am staying, Celine,” he told her firmly.

  “How will you defend yourself?”

  “I have a knife.”

  “And knitting needles,” she said, producing a few from her pocket and handing them to him. “I still think I should stay. No one knows who I am, whereas they want to keep you as a prisoner.”

  “I am not letting you stay here alone and defenceless, Celine. The Black Rover is dangerous, and you won’t even … What in the—” George froze.

  “What?” Celine asked turning around to look. She spotted a hand clutching the edge of the ship.

  Someone was climbing aboard, and they were in direct line of his sight.

  Celine grabbed George’s hand and pulled desperately. They had to get out of here.

  “I’ll be bound,” George gasped, refusing to budge. “Isn’t that Philly Slimweed?”

  “Ack.” Celine screeched spotting the long head and recognizing it.

  “Philbert Woodbead,” the poet corrected sourly.

  “You took one of the boats,” Celine said, noting that the maid’s dress he still wore was dry.

  “The duchess took my wig,” he grumbled clambering over the rail and flopping onto the deck.

  “What are you doing here?” Celine asked, her hands on her hips.

  “I came to win you back,” the poet replied.

  “I don’t want to listen to any more poetry,” Celine said firmly.

  “No more poems. This time I have prepared a dance.”

  “A dance?” George asked intrigued. “Please can we see it once?” he requested Celine.

  She nodded grudgingly.

  They watched the poet dance for a few moments.

  “Perhaps you can describe what you are doing, it may help your case,” George advised him.

  The poet threw him a grateful look and said, “Do you recall, Celine, the time we met at The Devil’s Pitchfork, I told you I wanted the poems back?”

  “Yes,” she replied irritably.

  “Well, I told you that was because my poems were taken by a renowned highwayman called the Falcon. He told me that if I ever wanted to win a woman back, then I must do the falcon dance.”