Seeking Philbert Woodbead ( A Madcap Regency Romance ) (The Fairweather Sisters) (7 page)

Celine
clucked sympathetically.

“My father
had refused, but my mother, my brave mother who everyone loved, decided to take
us all by herself … By us, I mean my brother and I,” he clarified. “She took
our tiny hands and walked into the circus tent. And that was the last time that
she walked,” he told her sadly, “for the circus had a snake charmer and the
snake charmer was a very bad snake charmer. He didn’t know how to charm snakes,
and that is why one of the poisonous creatures escaped and bit my mother. I
still remember its black sinewy body moving towards her, baring its teeth and
sinking its fangs deep into her flesh. I screamed and my brother swooned—”

“You said
she took your tiny hands and led you into the tent. But before that you said
that you were as old as Dorothy when your mother died. You must have had large
hands by then. I know my neighbour’s son is thirteen and his hands are fairly
large—”

“I was a
small child,” he said through gritted teeth.

Celine
blushed, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to question you. Losing your mother at such
a young age must have been tragic. Is that why you refuse to return … because
her memory haunts you?”

He shook
his head, “No, because soon after her death my father married again and brought
home a woman as kind as my mother had been. She was a wonderful stepmother. We
loved her. Everyone loved her. In fact, even her lady’s maid loved her. My
wounds were healed.”

“And then?”

“She died.”

Celine
gasped, “How?”

He took a
deep breath, “One balmy day, I found my stepmother swinging on a tree branch.
You see, her wits had unhinged and raced away never to be found again. It was a
tall tree and the branch fairly high. She was swinging, singing and searching.
She said she had lost her monkey up the tree and she was trying to coax it down
with a song.”

“She must
have been a wonderful singer,” she said in a hushed voice.

“My
stepmother was an awful singer, but that never stopped her,” he sighed. “She
was full of life, singing and swinging on that tree branch, her wits wandering
in some whimsical land. I will always remember her like that. It was just
before she fell and broke her neck.”

“Good lord,
no!”

“Yes, well,
that was not the end. My father did not give up.”

“Bless
him.”

“He went
and procured a third bride.”

“Did you
all love her as well?”

“No,
because the day she got married she disappeared.”

“Oh my. Did
she also die?”

“No, but
her wits did ferment. She went loony on the wedding morning, and my father learned
the truth only on the wedding night.”

 “And
then she died?”

“Can I tell
the tale?”

“Sorry,
continue.”

“Are you
sure? ”

“Yes,
please.”

“Right, my
father told us she was dead.”

“That’s—”

“And then,”
he spoke over her, “one day I was sleeping in my bedroom. It was a warm summer
night and I was sixteen years old. I had kept my windows and room door open to
encourage the reluctant breeze. I was in the half asleep, half awake state
where you are exhausted and yet so warm that you can barely sleep. My eyes
would open and close …”

“And then?”

“I heard
it.”

“What?”

“The pitter
patter, pitter patter of tiny feet walking on my room’s cold stone floor. I
squeezed my eyes shut, my breath froze and my whole being stilled to hear the
next sound. The pitter patter stopped, but someone was in the room with me. I
could feel it in the air around me. My fears were confirmed when I heard
something pant. Something was panting in my room, some creature, and then came
the pitter patter again. Pitter patter, pant pant, pitter patter, pant pant. I
sucked in a breath and steeled myself and opened one eye. One single eye. My
lashes lifted up and I dared to look. The moon light streaked in through the
windows and what I saw—”

“You saw?”
Celine asked breathlessly.

“I saw
blood dripping from a dagger held in a thin white hand. The other hand held a
burning candle, its hot wax dripping onto her fingers. The owner of these hands
wore a torn dress, her long matted hair hanging over her shoulders. And with
her was a large hound, a vicious looking creature with a frothing mouth and
large wild red eyes. And then… and then the clock went tick tock, tick tock …”

“Tick tock,
tick tock,” Celine breathed.

“Yes,” he
whispered, “it went tick tock, tick tock in the house somewhere. The feet of
the dog went pitter patter, pitter patter. Tick tock. Pitter patter. Tick tock,
pitter patter. And that was when I screamed and my father came rushing in, and
I realised that the woman standing with a bloodied knife and a mad dog was no
other than my third stepmother who my father kept locked in the attic. She
wanted to murder me.”

He whirled
around and looked Celine in the eye, “She wants to murder me, Celine, and I
cannot blame her, for she does not know her mind. It seems my presence
aggravates her, which is why she has tried to kill me twice already. How can
you ask me to return knowing that my very own stepmother wants to kill me? I
don’t want to die. I am too young. It would be tragic if I died. Think, Celine,
not about my young life being snuffed out but of all those feminine hearts that
would break at the news. You have to help those beautiful young women who want
me to live. Help for the sake of your kind. Do something for your country
women, my dear. You have to save my life.”

A small
silence ensued while Celine digested this story. After a while she said, “I am
so sorry. Your life sounds incredible. The tragedies … I am surprised you can
even smile. Looking at you no one would think you have had such a hard life.”

“I hide the
pain well,” he said modestly.

“But I
can’t help you. The duke will never listen to me.”

“Celine,”
he pleaded, “won’t you try?”

“You can
stay at an inn. Or a friend’s house? You must have friends. What about taking a
cottage in the country until Lord Adair returns?”

“Nowhere
else is safe. The Duke of Blackthorne is one of the most powerful men in
England, and no one would dare trifle with him. Besides, no one even knows he
is in England. They think he is in the country with his wife and Blackthorne is
lying empty. It is exactly what I need.”

“Your
stepmother is in your father’s house. In his attic. Locked up. How will she
discover you at an inn in London?”

He glared
at her. “You ask too many questions. If you want the letter back in your hands
and not someone else’s, then find a way that lets me stay here or …”

“Are you
blackmailing me?”

“You are
not leaving me with any other choice. You won’t do it out of kindness knowing I
have a mad stepmother and a rabid dog out to get me.”

She stared
at him in shock.

“You have until
ten o' clock tomorrow to convince the duke.”

“How can
you?” she asked, her heart thundering. Her situation suddenly became clear to
her and she was terrified. If he spread the word, she would be ruined.

“You leave
me with no other choice,” he repeated.

He avoided
her eyes as he walked out of the library.

She stared
after him in abject horror.

The sun
rose above the horizon and amazingly the clouds over England parted to let the
rays through. The birds lifted their beaks up to the sky chirping a greeting,
the cows mooed, horses cantered and the dogs barked in pleasure. It was a
wonderful morning, but for Celine everything seemed tinted in shades of grey.

She had
spent the night wishing all sorts of painful things upon Lord Elmer’s handsome head
and wondering how to coax the duchess into letting him stay. All those hours of
thinking had resulted in only one thing, and that was a headache and no
solution.

Now she sat
trying to find answers in a tepid cup of tea with occasional glances across the
breakfast table at Penelope. She slathered a piece of toast with dark red jam
and then proceeded to stab the centre of it with a butter knife. Repeatedly. It
was hard to behave like a lady with puffy eyes, no sleep and an overwhelming
desire to pummel every inch of the guest in the house.

“Air them
out,” Penelope commented.

“Eh?”
Celine asked.

“Your
views, ideas … your thoughts. You should always air them out. Give them an
opportunity to run around the room a bit or they get musty.”

“I see,”
Celine frowned.

“I see that
you don’t see. What I mean to say, my dear, is that something is troubling you
and I would like to know what it is. Now out with it.”

Celine bit
into an egg and chewed.

Penelope
watched her chew.

“Nothing is
worrying me,” Celine finally said.

“Then why
are you eating an egg?”

“Because I
am hungry.”

“You hate
eggs and never eat them unless you are upset. And when you are upset all you do
is eat eggs. Father is the same, except with him it is rabbits and mushrooms.”

Celine
pushed her plate away, “Penny, don’t you think we should ask Lord Elmer to stay
with us until Lord Adair returns?”

Penelope
put the spoon down and looked at Celine. “Why?”

“You said
you were bored and he is entertaining.”

Penelope
sighed, “It is very sweet of you to think of my amusement, Celine, but Charles
will never agree. Lord Elmer is not exactly a kitten that I can beg to keep so
I can tickle him under the chin when I please.”

A few
moments of silence ensued while Celine spooned the porridge and plopped it back
into the bowl.

Penelope
buttered the toast and delicately sniffed it. She waited for a minute and then
ate it.

“I think
you should ask him to stay,” Celine repeated. She was feeling particularly
dense that morning.

Penelope picked
up the tea cup, sniffed it, clapped her hand to her mouth and rushed out of the
room.

Celine
ordered the serving maid to remove all traces of tea.

Penelope
sailed back into the room. “Why are you so keen on having him stay?”

“I haven’t
spent much time with you because I am busy running the household as well as
taking care of Dorothy. And I know how dull you have been feeling lately with
nothing to do and nowhere to go. A new face around the house will improve your
mood, and Lord Elmer will make excellent company. You seem to like him,” Celine
finished, pleased with how convincing her argument sounded.

“I do like
him. Whatever Charles may say, he seems to be such a nice, likeable young man.
But would it be proper?”

“He is the
duke’s second cousin. He is family,” Celine reminded her.

Penelope
carefully nudged away the jam pot and searched Celine’s face. “Have you taken a
fancy to him?”

An
automatic denial rose to her lips, but Celine bit it back down.

Penelope
took Celine’s silence as assent. She immediately brightened and cooed, “My dear
sister, you do like him. This is wonderful. This is exactly what I needed to
restore my mental equilibrium. It was awfully good of you to go and fall in
love with Lord Elmer,” she said rubbing her hands together, “It will give me
something to do. A man to help catch, a wedding to plot … Oh, I can barely
contain my excitement.”

 “I am
not in love,” Celine feebly protested. She wasn’t sure if she should protest,
and yet she thought she should, but perhaps not too much … Confused, she
frowned, “Truly, Penny, I don’t … I mean … well ….”

“Oh, look
at you blushing and stuttering like a dim witted virgin. It’s sweet,” Penelope
smiled.

Celine had
not turned red but green. She had a feeling things were getting a little out of
hand. “You are mistaken—”

“Oh, this
is splendid,” Penelope said, clapping her hands and completely ignoring
Celine’s protests.

“What is
splendid?” Lord Elmer asked, entering the breakfast room.

Penelope
shot Celine a wink. “Why, Lord Elmer, the fact that the duke has agreed to let
you stay here at the mansion for as long as you like.”

Celine’s
mouth dropped open. Penelope had just lied. She had lied without remorse and
with complete confidence. The duke had done no such thing. She eyed her sister
with renewed respect.

“Thank you,
I would love to accept your kind invitation,” Lord Elmer said ladling four
boiled eggs onto his plate.

Penelope
beamed at Lord Elmer and Celine in motherly affection.

“Penny,”
Celine hissed in her ear, “you have not asked the duke. What if he refuses?”

“He won’t
dare,” she retorted with a militant look in her eye.