A Spy's Devotion (13 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As Julia walked away from the dance floor, the crowd around her blurred. Thankfully, she noticed Felicity subtly waving her over, so she headed in the direction of her friend.

The hand she reached out to Felicity was shaking.

“Julia!” Felicity said in an excited whisper. “Mr. Langdon danced with you
twice
.”

“Please don’t speak of it,” Julia whispered back. “Just imagine what Phoebe will say, what my aunt and uncle will think.”

“Oh.” Felicity’s mouth hung open in realization. “I didn’t think about that. But do you believe Mr. Langdon is in love with you?”

“No, no. At least, I hope not.”
That’s not entirely true.
“Phoebe would never forgive me. How could I betray her that way?”

“You wouldn’t be betraying her, Julia. Mr. Langdon hasn’t shown any undue interest in Phoebe, hasn’t led her to think he had any intentions toward her. She will simply have to get over her infatuation with him and learn to be happy for you.”

“Felicity, he hasn’t exactly asked me to marry him! He only danced with me a second time. Now everyone will think—oh, what will I do if my uncle casts me out?”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Felicity squeezed her hand extra hard. “You are getting upset for nothing.”

Her aunt and uncle loved Phoebe, but she wasn’t at all sure they loved her. To them, she was only a poor relation.

A servant walked up to Julia and bowed. “I beg your pardon, Miss Grey.”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Wilhern asked me to inform you that he and Mrs. Wilhern are waiting for you in the carriage.”

Julia felt the blood rush from her cheeks. Her uncle must be furious.

“Julia?”

She glanced up at Felicity.

“Don’t worry.” A crease between Felicity’s brows showed that even she was worried, perceiving the seriousness of her situation. “I will call on you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Julia tried to squeeze her friend’s hand, but she seemed to have lost strength in her limbs. Still, she must walk, must put one foot in front of the other and obey her uncle and make her way to the carriage without crumpling to the floor. She must not create a disturbance. A well-brought-up girl never did so if she could help it. She must behave properly. After all, if she were going to have to make her way by becoming a governess, a spotless reputation would be essential to her survival.

As soon as the set was done, Nicholas thanked his partner and turned to see Miss Grey leaving the ballroom.

He followed her, though at a far enough distance as to not seem as though he were following her. He tried to look nonchalant as he went, barely glancing at her to make sure she was still in front of him. When she went to get her wrap, while no one was looking, he slipped outside.

The Wilherns’ carriage was there, waiting. At least they were taking her home. He should probably go back inside. There was nothing else he could do. But something made him slip into the shadows by the front door, into a small alcove where there was just room enough for a small bench and a potted bush. Miss Grey emerged from the house only a few feet from him and proceeded down the front steps to the waiting carriage.

As she reached the door of the carriage, a footman stepped forward to open the door for her. He took her hand to help her in. For a moment, the footman’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lantern. Nicholas gasped.

The Wilherns’ footman was one of the men who had attacked him and stolen the diary.

Julia collected her wrap and ended up at the carriage, hardly knowing how she got there. A footman helped her into the equipage, and Julia sat in the only available seat, next to her uncle, facing her aunt and Phoebe, who was leaning on Mrs. Wilhern’s shoulder.

Mrs. Wilhern was fanning Phoebe’s puffy face with a handkerchief. Julia’s cousin sniffed and shuddered, sniffed and shuddered, reminding Julia of a small child.

Of course Phoebe was upset. Mr. Langdon had singled Julia out, whether he’d meant to or not. He probably only did it because he could think of no other discreet way to save her from Mr. Edgerton, but they would all blame Julia for Phoebe’s upset.

Her aunt’s face was a cold mask. Julia sensed the anger and tension in her uncle’s body, even though she didn’t dare look at him. Her heart quaked within her, and she focused her eyes on the window of the carriage. How her aunt and uncle must hate her for upsetting their beloved daughter! Would they force Julia to leave immediately? Where would she go?

Perhaps they would allow her to explain. But as the carriage lurched and started slowly on its way, carting the four of them down the street, no one said a word.

What explanation could she offer? She could tell them that Mr. Edgerton had accosted her and Mr. Langdon had asked her to dance only to extricate her. But somehow, the thought of telling them of Mr. Edgerton’s untoward behavior made her even more afraid. What if her aunt and uncle didn’t care that she was frightened of Mr. Edgerton or that his behavior was indecent? They were already angry with her for not accepting his marriage proposal.

She had always tried to avoid any hint of impropriety. What good had it done her?

Julia took a deep breath to compose herself. She must conduct herself with ladylike dignity, now more than ever.

Her mind tormented her with imaginings of what her uncle would do or say when they arrived at the Wilherns’ London town house. The silence seemed to roar at her, louder with each passing moment. When they were nearly there, Mr. Wilhern cleared his throat.

“Tell me plainly, Julia. Has Mr. Langdon made an offer of marriage to you?”

“No, of course not.” Julia’s voice sounded hoarse. She struggled to say, “I have no reason to believe he has any designs of that nature . . . for me.”

She stopped to catch her breath, which had deserted her, as Phoebe looked accusingly at her from red-rimmed eyes.

Mrs. Wilhern humphed. She stroked her daughter’s head the way she usually stroked her pet pug dog’s.

Julia’s stomach sank and twisted by turns. “Phoebe, you know—”

“Quiet,” her uncle commanded gruffly. “We have arrived. Not a word in front of the servants.”

Phoebe sniffed. Her father exited the carriage and then handed Phoebe out first. Mrs. Wilhern left next, and then Julia’s uncle took her trembling hand.

“I will speak with you in my office,” he growled in her ear.

Julia walked into the house and made her way to her uncle’s office, feeling one minute as if her knees were made of wood and the next as if they had turned to jelly and would collapse beneath her.

She stood waiting for her uncle to enter. Was this how the French nobles had felt when they faced the guillotine, waiting and knowing they would be executed but not knowing how much they would feel it?

After what seemed an eternity, her uncle entered and closed the door behind him. He turned his back to her and said nothing.

“I am sorry, Uncle, for how it must have seemed, but I beg you to believe that there is no attachment between Mr. Langdon and myself. I am sure he has no intentions of marrying me. You must believe that I would never hurt Phoebe. She means everything to me.” Julia had to stop, as her tears were choking off her voice.

Still, her uncle didn’t turn around. She took out her handkerchief and tried to mop away the tears before he could see them.

“Julia,” he said in a steady voice, clasping his hands behind his back. Silence reigned for a few more moments before he turned around to face her. “I know I don’t need to remind you of where you would be if it weren’t for my taking you in.”

“No, sir, and I am most grateful to you and Aunt Wilhern. Most sincerely grateful, with all my heart.” She spoke quickly, trying to get in the words of gratitude.

“And now I will tell you something else that you already know.” His voice was cold, like a hollow drumbeat. “Phoebe wishes to marry Nicholas Langdon and says she will not be content until she does.”

He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she answered, “Yes, sir.”

“Do I need to ask you to ensure that you not only do nothing to prevent that from happening but that you do your best, as much as it is in your power, to make certain Mr. Langdon thinks well of Phoebe?”

“No, sir. I mean, of course I want him to think well of Phoebe.”

“Good.” He stared at her from cold black eyes. “Then we understand each other.”

Julia bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“You may go to your room, or if you think it best, you may go to Phoebe and assure her that even if Mr. Langdon were to ask you to marry him, you most definitely would not accept him. I still intend for you to accept Mr. Edgerton’s proposal of marriage. And there will be dire consequences if you do anything to encourage Mr. Langdon’s attentions.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But why did you dance with him a second time, Julia?” Phoebe sat propped against the pillows in her bed, a soggy handkerchief clutched in her fist. “You knew it would hurt me and that he would think you had designs on him. You should have refused.” Phoebe turned her tear-streaked face away from Julia.

“You know I would never hurt you.”
God, help me convince her.
“I simply didn’t realize he had asked me to dance a second time. Probably he didn’t realize it either.” He probably
did
realize it, as he wasn’t a man to do anything thoughtlessly. But Julia was desperate enough to tell Phoebe whatever would please her.

“I didn’t remember that I had already danced with him.”

Phoebe turned to give her a disbelieving, openmouthed look.

“I was trying to avoid that odious Mr. Edgerton.”

“Julia, you shouldn’t call him odious just because you do not wish to marry him.” Phoebe gave her a self-righteous look.

“I hope I am not so ungracious to call him odious on
that
account. He has made untoward advances that I have not thought it proper to discuss.”

“Julia, I’m not a child!” Phoebe sat up straighter, as if the subject interested her. “Did Mr. Langdon rescue you from him?” Her voice was an awed whisper.

“I wouldn’t put it in those terms.” This information seemed to placate her cousin, but Julia knew instinctively to downplay anything romantic Phoebe might make of the situation. “He simply was finding a reason to extricate me—quite literally—from Mr. Edgerton.”

“Did Mr. Edgerton put his hands on you?” Phoebe’s damp eyes were wide now.

“He had hold of my arm and wouldn’t let go. He tried to convince me to go outside with him.”

“What did Mr. Langdon do?”

“He told Mr. Edgerton that I was to dance the next dance with him, so Mr. Edgerton had no choice but to let go of me.”

“That is just like Mr. Langdon, to save you like that.”

It was, wasn’t it? “I only hope he was the only person at the ball who noticed what Mr. Edgerton was doing.”

“What was he doing, Julia? Did he have the audacity to ask you to . . . to go away with him?”

“He insisted I go with him to the courtyard outside. I refused, but he wouldn’t let go of my arm.”

“Perhaps he’s so in love with you he became wild with wanting to convince you to marry him, Julia!”

“I don’t think that is quite accurate.” Julia sat down on the side of the bed, and it already felt as if things were back to normal between them. “Besides, everyone knows his family insists they will not sanction his marrying anyone but an heiress, because of his debts.”