Seeking Philbert Woodbead ( A Madcap Regency Romance ) (The Fairweather Sisters) (20 page)

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 also 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.

“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.