Read Online Seeking Philbert Woodbead ( A Madcap Regency Romance ) (The Fairweather Sisters) by Anya Wylde - Free Book Online Page A

covering my shoulders with green hued drool.
     
    A small
silence ensued after he had finished reading.
    “I
shouldn’t have read that,” he said in a small voice. “I feel wronged somehow. I
cannot believe I read the deuced thing and the whole of it. I couldn’t stop. I
tried, but the words they were so … I was compelled to read it until the end. I
feel tortured, abused—”
    “What are
you doing here?” Celine cut in.
    “I was
looking for a book.” He continued slyly, “Why were you looking at maps?”
    “I wasn’t.”
    “You are a
bad liar. You should spend a few minutes every day in front of the mirror
practising how to lie. It is a talent worth nurturing. Now, look at me, widen
your eyes … not too much, a little less … very good. Now tell me without
twitching that you were not looking at maps.”
    “Lord
Elmer–”
    “You are
blinking too much,” he interrupted. “It is an art, my dear. Do not disrespect
it. Now, let’s try something different. I can clearly see a map peeking out
from below those tomes in front of you. Therefore, look into my eyes, and this
time without blinking and with complete earnestness tell me that you like maps,
you adore them. In fact, you simply have to carry one everywhere you go. You
cannot live without maps. Maps are your life. You were looking at them because
they make you feel adventurous or something of the sort. Whatever you do don’t
deny their existence or look guilty.”
    She blinked
at him lugubriously, “I am sorry. I am busy. Can you go plague someone else?”
    “No.”
    “Penny will
appreciate your company.”
    “I was with
her in the morning room. I had to escape. She was slathering blackberry jam on
chunks of venison and eating it.”
    “It doesn’t
sound so bad.”
    “The venison
was swimming in gravy.”
    “I see.”
    “Before
that she was crying.”
    “Why?”
    “Because in
her words, I have a head full of ringlets, and the curls are so poetic that she
couldn’t help it. She had to weep.”
     “I promise
you, Penny is perfectly sane. But I am sorry, I have work to do, I—”
    “Let me
stay here. I will sit quietly in that corner and read. I promise not one word
will escape my lips,” he requested.
    “Has Penny
made you uncomfortable?”
    “No, she
has terrified me. I am scared in broad daylight.”
    Celine
giggled. “Stop, she is not so bad. You can stay, but please don’t try to read
any more of my letters.”
    “I wouldn’t
dare,” he said and then pulling out a book from the shelves sat down to read.
    Celine
dragged another letter towards herself and got to work.
    Half an
hour later the silence was broken.
    “I cannot
stand here and let you continue like this,” he exclaimed. “Miss Amy Montrose
Fairweather, what in the world are you doing?”
    “Penny told
you my name?” Celine cried.
    “Yes, and
Amy suits you far more than Celine does,” he said gazing at her, “Amy. Short,
sweet, simple.”
    “Don’t call
me Amy.”
    “Amy, tell
me what are you doing?”
    “No.”
    “Please.
Perhaps I can help.”
    “I don’t trust
you,” She shook a quill at him, splattering his stark white shirt with droplets
of ink, “and why would you want to help me?”
    “Because it
will give me something to do, and you did help me by asking the duchess to let
me stay. It was done reluctantly, but you still did it.”
    “I am not
sure.”
    “And I
think you are pretty. A pretty damsel in distress, and it goes against my
nature to leave you suffering like this—”
    “I am not
suffering,” she replied blushing.
    “Disturbed
then. I want to help.”
    “No.”
    “What if I
told you something about myself that no one knew?”
    She pushed
away the letter and looked at him. She hated to admit that she was intrigued.
    He smiled
and fluttered his lashes, “Ask me anything, Amy” he said huskily.
    Celine
wanted to slam the book on top of his head. She eyed his practised romantic
expression, all pouting lips and dreamy eyes, and