A Spy's Devotion

  Oh dear Lord!

  It suddenly hit her like a boulder against her chest—Mr. Langdon had already danced with her! She was dancing with him for the second time that night.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Julia’s panic rose. Mr. Langdon never danced with anyone a second time. Everyone would see. Julia’s aunt, Phoebe, and everyone else would say he was singling her out. The gossip would spread from one end of the party to the other by the end of the dance.

  Julia glanced around her. Was she imagining it, or was everyone staring at them and whispering?

  And she had forgotten about her aunt’s lemonade. There Aunt Wilhern sat, scowling darker than anything Julia had seen before. Nearby, Phoebe watched them, a stricken look on her face.

  Oh, this couldn’t be happening. It must be a nightmare. She had dreamed this nightmarish moment before. It must be a dream.

  But there was Mr. Langdon looking down at her with a strange expression on his face. She could feel the warmth of his fingers as he took her hand and guided her through the steps of the dance.

  Should she run away? No, that would draw even more attention to the two of them. Was it possible that Mr. Langdon didn’t realize what he had done? He had made her the object of all his admirers’ jealousy, not to mention drawing speculation from every woman, young and old, in the room. But that would be nothing, was nothing, compared to what her cousin and aunt must be thinking, how hurt Phoebe must feel, hurt and betrayed.

  Oh, the tears that would flow tonight. How the Wilherns would hate her.

  “If I may ask,” Mr. Langdon said quietly as they waited for their turn in the round, “what was Mr. Edgerton saying to you?”

  Must she repeat that horrible man’s words? “He was . . . he was being most ungentlemanly.” She would remain dignified and only state the facts. She must pretend a coolness she didn’t feel. “I have made it quite clear to Mr. Edgerton that I do not wish to accept his advances, but he actually laid a hand on me in a most ill-mannered way and insisted I go out to the courtyard with him. I am afraid I shall have to tell my uncle about his behavior.”

  Of course, she wasn’t at all sure she would mention the incident to her uncle. She was almost as afraid of her uncle as she was of Mr. Edgerton, and Mr. Langdon might not even believe that she was entirely innocent in the matter. But for the moment, she must remember that she was in a public place, with a man her cousin was violently in love with. She must behave with cool decorum until she could finish this dance and plaster herself to Felicity’s side for the rest of the ball.

  “You should tell your uncle about Edgerton’s behavior. I shall speak to him as well. And if he troubles you again, I wish you to tell me.”

  If they had been alone, or walking down the street toward the Bartholdys’, she might have said, “You, Mr. Langdon?” in a teasing tone. But as she was, at the moment, trapped in a second dance with the much-desired Mr. Langdon, with Mrs. Wilhern and Phoebe looking at her as if she had just dashed Phoebe’s only hope for love and happiness, she set her face and eyes straight ahead and said woodenly, “You are very kind.”

  During another lull in the dance, he asked, “Are you well, Miss Grey? You look pale.”

  Perhaps he still didn’t realize. “Do you not know what everyone is whispering? I was too distracted at first to realize, but you already danced with me earlier, Mr. Langdon. You are dancing with me a second time.”

  She half expected him to look startled, to be shocked at his blunder. But instead, he smiled. “Are you worried about that? Does it bother you so much?” She feared he would laugh out loud.

  “Well, I—” She couldn’t very well say, “Phoebe will be heartbroken, and everyone will be gossiping that you intend to marry me!” Although it was the truth. “I didn’t know . . . you were aware . . .”

  “I suppose the gossips will be speculating on our upcoming nuptials. Forgive me if I’ve put you in an awkward position, Miss Grey.” At least he finally realized the seriousness of what he had done.

  At the end of the dance, Mr. Langdon thanked her, bowed to her with a tiny frown, and walked away. Was he angry with her? No, he probably regretted having danced with her a second time to get her away from Mr. Edgerton.

  Julia nervously scanned the room for Phoebe. Her gaze flew to where Mrs. Wilhern had been sitting, but she was standing and walking away. Where was she going? Would Julia be left at the dance all alone, abandoned?

  Nicholas had thought Miss Grey would be flattered that he was dancing with her a second time. She would realize how fond he was of her. He had half expected her to blush and look pleased. He wanted her to blush and look pleased.

  Instead, she’d been horrified.

  He could hardly blame her. It was rather thoughtless and indiscreet of him. He never danced with a lady more than once at a ball. It was not wise to do so, to create gossip and speculation, or false expectation in the lady. But her horror was quite extreme. Was there someone else whose attentions she wanted to claim? Or perhaps she was only afraid of upsetting her cousin Miss Wilhern.

  He had been glad to save her from Edgerton, and asking her to dance was the first excuse he thought of for extricating her. If there was anything that excited his anger, it was a gentleman trying to take advantage of a lady.

  Edgerton had become dissolute, given to gaming and dissipation since he left school. It made Nicholas’s blood boil to see Edgerton holding Miss Grey’s arm and speaking to her in that intimidating manner. It would have made him angry to see any gently bred girl treated that way, but Miss Grey . . .

  He had wanted to tear Edgerton apart.

  He admired the way Miss Grey cared about her old tutor, Monsieur Bartholdy, how devoted she was to her cousin, as well as the kindness she showed Henry. He even had a notion that she had begun to admire him as well. Perhaps he had been mistaken. Besides, as long as he was investigating her uncle, who seemed very likely to be involved in something nefarious, possibly even high treason, he should not think of Miss Grey as a possible marriage partner. It was foolish in the best of circumstances, since neither of them had any fortune.

  He watched Miss Grey walk toward her friend, Miss Mayson. The two young ladies stood talking, their heads close together. What was she telling her? About her horror at Edgerton’s overbearing conduct toward her? Or her fear of the gossipmongers who saw Nicholas dance with her a second time?

  Just then, Edgerton caught his attention. The man was leaning against the wall, coolly staring at Miss Grey and Miss Mayson.

  Nicholas strode over to Edgerton. “What do you think you were doing in there, treating a lady that way?”

  Edgerton curled his lip in a sneer. “Do you mean Miss Grey? She is soon to be my wife. I may treat her any way I wish.”

  “What do you mean? Has she accepted your proposal of marriage?” Nicholas said.

  “No, but she will. Her uncle, Wilhern, will persuade her to accept me.”

  “Why would her uncle do that?” Heat bubbled in the pit of his stomach. What kind of man forced his ward to marry someone she did not wish to? Oh, he knew it was done in order to secure a fortune and to improve a family’s prospects, but why Edgerton? He did not have a large fortune, and his debts were enormous.

  Edgerton feigned a shocked expression. “Do you not think it is the most advantageous match Miss Grey could make? For an orphan of no fortune? Her uncle simply wants what is best for her. And why do you want to know, Langdon? Do you have designs on her yourself?”

  “You once told me your father would never sanction any bride who doesn’t bring a substantial fortune. Why would your father allow you to marry Miss Grey?”

  “Perhaps Wilhern is willing to give me a large sum if I marry her and save her from the terrible fate of becoming a governess.”

  That didn’t seem likely, not after the way Miss Grey’s aunt had spoken of her.

  “Then why grab her and manhandle her the way you did just now?”

  Edgerton opened his mouth and then closed it, gl
ancing down as if examining the toe of his boot. “I don’t know. I . . . I wanted to speak to her alone, but she refused to go to the courtyard with me. The truth is, Nicholas, I do love the girl.” He looked up and grimaced. “I’m sorry if I upset her, truthfully. I have never been very good at wooing. I intend to marry her, but she doesn’t quite fancy me yet.”

  Nicholas debated with himself what to say to Edgerton, whether to believe he was sincere. Finally he said, “She will never fancy you if you treat her in such a way.” His stomach sank at the thought of poor Miss Grey trying to make herself love a man like Edgerton simply to please her uncle and avoid becoming a governess. “But if you ever treat her in that reprehensible way again . . . she is a friend of my sister’s, and, as such, you are never to go near her again unless you are sober and ready to treat her like the lady that she is.”

  Edgerton looked askance at him. Finally, he used his elbow to push himself off the wall. “Very well, I shall take your advice. Any other tips you might have to make her want to marry me?”

  Nicholas clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to be giving Edgerton pointers on how to woo Miss Grey. He still wanted to punch him in the face. “No.”

  Miss Grey still stood talking with Miss Mayson. Had Nicholas harmed her situation with her family, with her aunt and uncle and cousin, by dancing with her twice in one evening? Though he hated Edgerton for pointing it out, Miss Grey probably was a bit desperate to avoid becoming a governess. But would she be desperate enough to marry Edgerton?

  Either way, Nicholas could not help trying to see that she would get home safely. There was something almost sinister about the way her guardians, the Wilherns, treated her.

  Nicholas had no desire to dance anymore that night, but while Miss Grey spoke with her friend, he turned and asked the first girl he saw, pasting a smile on his face and vowing that no one would say he favored Miss Grey or was paying her undue attention.

  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.”