Seeking Philbert Woodbead ( A Madcap Regency Romance ) (The Fairweather Sisters) by Anya Wylde Page A

in
excitement and his … She frowned. Did he have a dimple in his chin? A variety
of puffy weak chins floated by in her mind. None of them seemed to fit her
Philly. A horrible thought struck her. If she loved him, then shouldn’t she
remember what his chin looked like? Surely a woman in love remembers her
lover’s chin.
    She gripped
the curtains, her bosom heaving in turmoil. What sort of a woman in love was
she? A cruddy sort, that’s what. Not remembering her own lover’s chin, the
horror.
    She shoved
the poem into her pocket. Women in love, Lord Elmer had said, were willing to
jump off cliffs for their beloved. Would she, she wondered, jump off a cliff
for Philbert?
    What if she
did jump, and instead of hitting solid earth she found a deep dark sea waiting
to engulf her?
    She gulped.
    Perhaps
jumping off cliffs was a little dramatic. After all, her mother said that she
most decidedly at times loved her father, and her mother wouldn’t jump off a
hay cart for her father, let alone a cliff.
    She did
love him she told herself firmly. After all, the feelings were still fresh in
her mind. She may not recall his chin, but she well remembered the anticipation
and excitement she felt whenever she met him. The tickle in her belly when they
had kissed for the first time and how her heart had skipped a beat when he had
confessed his love for her one frigid winter morning.
    She watched
a servant go by holding a flickering lamp in her hand. She wondered why she was
dithering. Lord Elmer was offering her his help, and with his help, she was
sure Philbert could be found … and yet her feet refused to move in the
direction of the library where no doubt Lord Elmer sat pulling out his hair in
boredom.
    It had been
a year since she had seen Philbert and six months since she had last heard of
him. What if he no longer loved her?
    The servant
disappeared from her view, and with the fading light, she came to the conclusion
that she would find him. She would risk taking a stranger’s help, telling him
her secrets, not for sensible Amy, but for the Celine in her. This would be her
adventure, and after that she would devout her life to being good, dutiful and
an ideal accomplished lady.
    With a firm
nod, she picked up her diary and the sheets of poetry and made her way towards
the library.
     

Chapter 12
    “I don’t
think this is a good idea,” she said the moment she spotted Lord Elmer in the
library.
    He eyed her
quizzically.
    “I mean
finding Philly and—”
    “You call
him Philly?”
    She ignored
him and continued, “I don’t want your help.”
    “But why? I
already know your secret, and if you live in fear that I may tell someone, then
isn’t it better to take my help in finding the fellow and marry him before you
are disgraced in society.”
    She didn’t
reply.
    “Do you
even love him?” he persisted.
    She caught
the sneer in his tone. “I do. I just …”
    “You just
wanted to play at finding him. You did not really intend on acting out your
fantasy. Is that it?”
    Her mouth
trembled.
    He took her
elbow and gently pushed her into a seat. “Shall we try to see how this evening
goes? Now that you are here we might as well make use of the time. If you decide
not to take my help from tomorrow, then I promise not to bother you. I will
find something else to amuse me.”
    She glanced
at him and then looked away. The blasted man was looking kind. Not scornful but
kind and slightly sympathetic. She nodded reluctantly.
    He
immediately spurred into action. The sheets of paper were spread out, the ink
and the quill readied, more candles lit, and various maps pulled down from
shelves. Finally, he turned to her and asked to see the painting.
    A little
breathless from how quickly he seemed to get things done she unravelled the
parchment.
    He eyed her
actions with pursed lips.
    She
scowled. If he did not find her manner of unrolling a scroll sufficiently
romantic, then she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to spend ten minutes