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

by Wylde, Anya

  “Lord Elmer,” Celine whispered horrified, “What are you doing?”

  “I want to talk to you and this is my way of ensuring that you do not run before I complete what I have to say,” he whispered back.

  Celine tugged at her hand. Her heart thundered, “Please, I won’t run. The duke is going to see ….”

  “He won’t,” George replied confidently. “You have been avoiding me all day.” His hand tightened over hers.

  Celine twisted her hand in his grip but not too much or the cushion would dislodge. “Please, the duke has noticed something is wrong. He is looking right at us.”

  “Let me quickly speak—” George started to say when a scream stopped him.

  Penelope had screamed because Sir Henry had fallen off his cushion.

  “Bloody, blistering fool of a thing,” Sir Henry roared.

  “Amy,” George tugged her hand, “listen.”

  “Deuced cushions, go to the basted devil.” Sir Henry yelled as he was held aloft by footmen while the cushions were being adjusted.

  “I am not going to stay at Blackthorne any longer,” George told Celine.

  “What? Speak louder,” she said, finding it hard to hear above the racket Sir Henry was making.

  “I will boil the lot of you. Cook you alive. Who bought those villainous cushions? I am going to kill them. Kill them all,” Sir Henry shouted as he was gently laid back on top of the cushions.

  “There, there,” Penelope soothed.

  “Can I have some more muscadine ice?” Dorothy demanded.

  “This was a farewell dinner,” George finally lost patience and bellowed over the din. “I leave tonight, Amy. This is goodbye.”

  Celine turned to George in shock. The meal, the corset digging into her ribs, and Sir Henry, who was now loudly singing a battle song, faded into the background. He was leaving. Her hand turned cold in his grip, and all of a sudden the most unbearable sadness filled her.

  “No you are not,” Penelope said, for she had overheard George. “You have to stay. Please say you will stay.”

  Celine nodded fervently.

  “I am sorry. I received an urgent message from a friend yesterday morning. I was going to tell you, but what with Celine swooning and then Gunhilda adopting the chimney sweep … I didn’t get a chance,” George said apologetically.

  “It’s a shame,” the duke said perking up. “When do you leave?”

  “Tonight.”

  “If you need a carriage or anything, let me know,” the duke said looking positively kindly.

  “Thank you,” George replied.

  Celine refused to look at him. How could he do this to her? He had promised to help her and now he was leaving?

  “Is your friend in London?” Penelope asked, her eyes darting from Celine to George.

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes glued to Celine.

  “Then you can come to our dinner party tomorrow,” Penelope said pleased.

  “What dinner party,” both the duke and George echoed.

  Penelope pinched the duke hard and smiled at Lord Elmer. “Anne’s friend Sophia is coming to dine with us tomorrow. Anne is my sister in law and Sophia, her bosom friend, is as good as family. Will you please join us, Lord Elmer, and make it a small dinner party?”

  Celine bit into the cold chicken and chewed. She knew fully well that Sophia was not planning to come to dinner. Penelope had decided to invite her but a moment ago.

  “I am not sure,” George hedged.

  “Bring your friend along,” Penelope coaxed.

  “I don’t—” the duke began. Penelope pushed a slice of cake into his mouth.

  “I don’t think my friend can come, but I will, “George finally agreed. Penelope had left him no way out, and he couldn’t possibly be rude to a duchess.

  Celine spent the rest of dinner mechanically eating. She had lost her appetite.

  ***

  “I need to explain,” Lord Elmer began.

  “No, you don’t,” Celine interrupted. She had decided not to go to the library after dinner. She didn’t think there was any point anymore. They had nothing to discuss. She would find Philbert on her own. And while she was deciding to never ever see Lord Elmer again and stay away from the library, her feet had taken her exactly where she had not wanted to go.

  She was in the library sitting opposite George.

  “The cook has been kidnapped,” George reminded her.

  “The cook?” she asked in confusion.

  “Yes, the Blackthorne cook. Remember, the cooks in England are disappearing and appearing because the pirates are kidnapping them? The same pirate that is looking for his grandmother’s recipe. The recipe that I stole.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have to leave don’t you see? The cook knows who I am. The pirates will interrogate him, and if he happens to mention the guest staying at the Blackthorne Mansion, then all of you will be in danger. The duchess is vulnerable ….”

  “I understand,” Celine replied, her anger melting away.

  They sat in silence staring at the cold fireplace.

  Finally Celine said, “Thank you for all your help. I appreciate it.”

  He didn’t say anything, so she continued, “I suppose this is goodbye. You are coming to dinner tomorrow … Not really goodbye yet, except …”

  “It won’t be the same,” he finished for her.

  She glanced up to find him staring at her. She shifted nervously on the chair.

  “Goodnight, Celine,” he said quietly.

  She stood up and smoothed her skirts. She made her way towards the door. Halfway through she stopped and turned.

  He was still watching her.

  She smiled hesitatingly, “You can call me Amy.”

  He nodded, his expression unreadable. “I will.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  She made her way to her room, her steps slow. She was waiting for something but what exactly she wasn’t sure.

  She stopped twice and turned to look behind her. Both times, she found the corridor empty.

  Later that night when she had laid her head on the pillow she was surprised to find her cheeks were wet with tears. She would miss her new friend was her last thought before she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 24

  Perkins, Hopkins, Gwerful and Mary confirmed that George had indeed left the mansion. The news made Celine feel as if one of Blackthorne’s beloved limbs had been hacked away and transported to an unreachable location. Her only consolation was the fact that she would see him at dinner that evening.

  She moped around all day willing the clock to move quicker, but time was being contrary as usual, for it crawled when she wanted it to race.

  Even Penelope seemed out of sorts after George’s departure, for all she ate that morning for breakfast was three eggs, buttered bread, a few spice biscuits, some slices of cold meat and a pear. As for Dorothy, the poor girl howled and cried and kicked up her feet until even Lady Bathsheba was moved to tears. The duke spent the day whistling a merry tune.

  “Are you going to a ball, Miss?” Gwerful asked as she pinned a sparkling brooch to Celine’s Egyptian robe of blue satin shot through with fine silver threads and silver acorn trimming.

  “No,” Celine said attaching blue sapphires to her earlobe.

  “Then are you going somewhere else special?” Gwerful persisted.

  “No, why?” Celine placed the white cashmere shawl on one shoulder and the soft grey lace wrap over the other.

  Gwerful pointed to the lace wrap in approval. “Because you are taking an awful lot of interest in your dress today.”

  “I am simply dressing for the dinner party, Gwerful. Surely, I am allowed to take pains with my toilette on such an occasion.”

  “Yes, but dinner is at six in the evening, Miss, and right now it is only two in the afternoon.”

  Celine opened her mouth to scold her and then closed it again. Her maid was right. What the devil was wr
ong with her? She never spent so long preening in front of the mirror like an imbecile. She pulled off the dress, placed the wrap back in the cupboard and replaced the earrings in the jewellery box.

  “Pull the taupe silk out,” she said quietly.

  “I am sorry, Miss. I thought you looked lovely in the blue … Surely the taupe is too dull?”

  “The taupe will do.”

  Gwerful nodded and did as she was told.

  Celine entered the Blue Room at six sharp. She wore the taupe silk, her hair was scraped back into a low bun, and a thin gold necklace was her only ornament. She looked sensible and she felt miserable.

  Miss Sophia Leech followed close behind her.

  “Sophia,” Penelope held out her fingers, “you are as pale as a corpse. It is positively enchanting. How did you manage it?”

  “It is a new tonic from France. I will send you a bottle,” Sophia replied kissing the air in front of Penelope’s fingers.

  “Miss Leech,” George exclaimed the moment he entered the room.

  “Geo—I mean, Lord Elmer,” squealed Sophia.

  Celine watched the enthusiastic greeting with a jaundiced eye. Sophia looked ecstatic and George pleased, while she felt like a colour changing lizard that had blended into the room’s furnishings. No one had greeted her yet.

  “I gather you know each other?” Penelope asked.

  “Yes, Lord Elmer and I knew each other a long time ago. In fact, I knew him when he was still at Oxford. He often came to meet my elder sister Jane. They were extremely close,” Sophia grinned. “And I am sure if my sister had not already been married to the old toad Major Wright at the time, she would have married Lord Elmer. Major Wright is now dead, Lord Elmer. A bird dropped a turtle on his head and cracked it wide open. I mean both the turtle shell and the Major’s head cracked open. Neither Major Wright nor the poor turtle survived. Jane is still celebrating her husband’s funeral.”

  George cleared his throat, and his eyes finally fell on Celine. “Miss Fairweather,” he said warmly.

  Celine’s mouth dropped open. He had called her Miss Fairweather. Since when did he adhere to propriety? She nodded back coldly.

  “Tell me, Lord Elmer, how long are you in London for?” Sophia said snapping open her fan and fluttering with all her might.

  “Would you like some tea?” Penelope interrupted.

  “No, thank you,” Sophia said and then turned back to George. The tip of her fan rested on his sleeve, “You should have called over to our house, Lord Elmer,” she pouted. “Mamma would have been thrilled to see you.”

  “Not your Father,” George replied smiling. “He chased me with a very large hunting rifle the last time I dared to set foot in your house.”

  “You shouldn’t have climbed into mamma’s room then … or at least you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be caught climbing in,” Sophia scolded.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Penelope interrupted again.

  “No, and, Lord Elmer—”

  “Some wine then?” Penelope insisted.

  “Truly, no need—”

  “You must try some lemonade.”

  “Honestly—”

  “Sophia,” Penelope came to the point, “did you know Celine and Lord Elmer are engaged? Why don’t you congratulate them?”

  Three jaws dropped open in shock.

  Sophia changed colours like a peach speedily ripening. She first turned green, then pink, and finally a mixture of red and yellow. “I did not know … I wish you … When is the wedding?”

  Celine sprang up, “Penny, I mean, the duchess needs to retire to her room for a moment. She needs to take a tonic. A very bitter tonic.”

  Penelope meekly followed.

  Celine planted her hands on her hips. “What were you thinking? How could you tell her that I was engaged to Lord Elmer?”

  “I was simply trying to hurry things along,” Penelope replied sheepishly. “Besides Sophia was flirting with him and I didn’t like seeing you suffer.”

  “I was not suffering.”

  “You looked like you were suffering.”

  “Penny, this is a pickle. How could you do this? And what about Lord Elmer. What will he do?”

  Penelope clutched her stomach with one hand and touched her forehead with the other, “I am going to have a baby. Women in my condition should be cossetted and never scolded … In fact, I think I am having a headache … and oh, I felt a decided twinge in my belly. I think I am going to have the baby now ….”

  Celine shook her head in disgust and walked back into the Blue Room. She believed not a word of Penelope’s mythical pains.

  Back in the Blue Room Sophia had gone back to flirting with George. It seemed Sophia was one of those women who believed that if a man was not married, he was fair game for all. And clearly Sophia liked to play. A lot.

  Thereafter, Celine spent the entire dinner silently stabbing her meal while listening to George and Sophia flirt and reminiscence about the good old days. She learned about the party in Lord Clifton’s country house where George and Sophia had spent a week. George had spent four days chasing everything in skirts. The skirts in turn had chased him back until finally Lady Clifton had declared her love for him in public. Lord Clifton lost his patience, and he too began chasing George but with a rifle and off the premises.

  The duke loudly crunched a chicken bone while Penelope slurped the wine. Sophia, being as sensitive as a block of wood, failed to take the hint and continued to babble.

  And George … George encouraged Sophia.

  Celine felt as if she no longer knew him. The duke had warned them that he was an incorrigible flirt, but somehow she had forgotten. She thought she could trust him, and yet after listening to all the scandalous stories, she felt muddled. He had lied to her and told her outlandish stories. Pirates were chasing him, and he had been a pirate, a spy and a thief … a rogue.

  She watched him wink at Sophia and her heart constricted. He did flirt with anything in skirts.

  After dinner was over, they moved to the family room. Sophia stroked the piano and hinted slyly, “Lord Elmer, I know you dance exceedingly well.”

  Celine played a tune to which Lord Elmer and Sophia danced. She banged away at the keys irked by the fact that Sophia knew Lord Elmer could dance, while she hadn’t. What else did she not know about him?

  Celine finished mauling the piano and retired to a corner with a cup of tea.

  Meanwhile, Sophia had progressed from touching Lord Elmer’s sleeve with the tip of her fan to touching his sleeve without the fan. She now sat coaxing him to give her a sip of brandy.

  Penelope stood up and walked over to Sophia. She pretended to bump into her, thereby spilling a glass of sickly smelling tonic on her lap.

  “I am so sorry,” Penelope said, looking not the least bit sorry. “I will call the carriage. We cannot have you sitting here wet and dripping. You may catch a deathly cold.”

  And with that Sophia departed.

  As soon as she left, Penelope and Celine turned to George.

  He smiled, “Bang up evening, eh? Pity Miss Leech had to leave so early.”

  “The evening was frightful and Miss Leech ghastly,” Penelope growled.

  “Penny,” Celine scolded half-heartedly, “you shouldn’t speak so about a guest.”

  “It’s the truth, Celine, and as for your behaviour, Lord Elmer, I am disappointed,” Penelope shook her head sadly.

  “Oh, don’t say that,” George begged. “Be anything but disappointed.”

  “I am nothing but disappointed,” Penelope stressed again.

  “But why the devil?” George exploded.

  “You are engaged to Celine,” Penelope informed him, “and you were flirting with that creature instead.”

  “We are engaged,” Celine said shortly, “in your head, Penny.”

  “Miss Leech is quite pleasant,” George added. “You simply have to dig deeper.”

  Penelope and Celine glared at George.


  George blinked in confusion.

  “I spent all evening excavating with the best spade in the country, and even after hours and hours of digging into Miss Leech’s head and heart, I found nothing. Nothing, Lord Elmer. The woman is made up of empty paper bags and cotton balls,” Penelope seethed.

  George turned to Celine.

  “Good evening, Lord Elmer. If you will excuse me, I have a headache,” Celine responded to his silent query.

  “Eh?” George said beseechingly eyeing the duke who had intelligently spent the later part of the evening lurking in silent corners.

  The duke shrugged. “I hope to see you at Boodles sometime.”

  With that the dinner party was over.

  ***

  Celine did not go to bed immediately. She first spent a lonely hour in the library staring at London maps. The task of finding her Philbert was suddenly no longer fun. Her mind kept flitting back to George’s beautiful dimple appearing and disappearing for Sophia’s amusement. A soft voice at the back of her head asked her if she was jealous.

  “No,” Celine informed the bookshelves, “I am not jealous.”

  The bookshelves in turn looked sceptical.

  It was, she decided, time for bed.

  Celine climbed into bed and blew out the candle. She closed her eyes and started to go over the evening’s happenings. She had just finished picking out faults in Miss Sophia Leech’s dress when a hand closed over her mouth.

  Chapter 25

  “Don’t scream,” George warned.

  Celine nodded and bit his finger.

  George screeched, “Why did you do that?”

  “What are you doing in my room?” Celine countered furiously.

  “I have come to discuss our next step.”

  “What step?”

  “To find your cretin. I mean your poet,” he replied. “I say, you didn’t think I would give up the hunt, leave you in the lurch and abandon ship, did you?”

  “I thought it would be impossible now with you gone from the mansion.”

  “I cannot see you during the day, but nothing stops us from meeting during the night.”

  “Lord Elmer,” Celine said sternly, though her heart was singing, “I thought we had said our goodbyes.”