A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(14)

“Here you are.”

Julia twisted around to find Mr. Edgerton behind her, almost touching her he was so close.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” She tried to move away from him, but she was trapped between the window pressing into her back, the desk beside her, and Mr. Edgerton in front of her.

“Forgive me for startling you.” Mr. Edgerton’s face was mostly in shadow, but his white teeth flashed in the pale light. “Are you well, Miss Grey?”

“Yes, of course. Only getting a bit of air.” She tried to brush by him, but he moved closer and pressed her arm with his hand.

“You are upset about what your aunt said.”

“I—I am well. I am sure my aunt . . .” She intended to say, “I am sure my aunt meant well,” but that was not true. She did not think her aunt could have meant anything good by what she had said. She tried to think of something to say that would cause Mr. Edgerton to move out of her way, but the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking.

“I am very sorry.”

He had taken her silence as an admission of her pain, as an invitation for pity. But the way he was touching her arm and preventing her from leaving the room made her heart beat uncomfortably. There was something in his pale eyes that put her on her guard.

“Excuse me,” she managed to say. “I need to go, to return to the party.”

He let go of her arm and moved aside enough to let her pass. But then he grasped her arm again. He whispered, “You do not deserve to be treated badly.”

The look in his eyes reminded her that if anyone saw them alone in the unlit room, her reputation would suffer.

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. “I thank you for your kindness, but I have been away from the party too long.” She turned and walked out of the room and into the hall.

She moved toward the ballroom and the safety of the crowd, the pounding of her heart stealing her breath. Unable to face the roomful of people yet, she slipped into the smaller room where a servant was serving lemonade to the ladies.

Mr. Edgerton’s words and manner had been a direct result of what her aunt had said. He had not said or done anything particularly unseemly, but following her into the empty room, drawing so close to her, and touching her arm . . . a gentleman would not do such things to a lady who was respected and well connected, unless he intended to make an offer for her—or had nefarious intentions. Mr. Edgerton’s debts made marriage to her impossible. Her stomach churned. Had her aunt’s words made her vulnerable to men with immoral intentions?

She had always behaved with the utmost decorum. She was never indiscreet, never said things that could be misconstrued, and had always tried so hard to be above reproach. And now this.

This night was going terribly wrong.





CHAPTER FIVE


The guests were still dancing, the musicians still playing, as if her world had not just been turned upside down. She reached for a cup of lemonade, fighting to control her breathing, to push down her humiliation and compose her thoughts.

Felicity Mayson stood in the doorway. As soon as she saw Julia, she motioned for Julia to follow her to an unoccupied corner of the room. “I’m sorry for what your aunt said,” she whispered.

Julia’s heart sank. “I suppose everyone in the room heard her.”

“Not everyone. But she was very wrong to say what she did. She must be jealous of you, and I suspect it’s because you are so much prettier than Phoebe—and the fact that Mr. Langdon looks a great deal more at you than at Phoebe.”

Julia shook her head. “No, no. I don’t know why my aunt said those things, but Mr. Langdon isn’t interested in me any more than he’s interested in Phoebe.”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you, Julia. I think it quite possible that she noticed it too.”

Julia was holding her cup of lemonade so tightly the delicate porcelain was likely to break. She loosened her grip and shook her head again. “I don’t think there was any malice intended, Felicity.”

Felicity’s blond brows drew together. “I don’t believe she could say such things without at least some intentional malice.”

“But if that is true . . .” Then her aunt did not have Julia’s interests at heart and was not to be trusted.

Felicity gave her head a slight shake. “We won’t argue the point, but you should get back out there and see if you can win Mr. Langdon. You’d be silly not to at least try.”

Julia stared at her friend. “Win him?” First Sarah Peck, now Felicity. “I am quite sure Mr. Langdon never gave a second thought to me, except as someone to dance with.”

“Perhaps. But remember when he got his sister to take your place at the pianoforte so he could dance with you?”

That was surprising. “He was being charitable. He also asked Sarah Peck to dance that night. He was simply afraid of running out of dance partners. My aunt has nothing to worry about, because I have nothing. Why would he ever choose me over Phoebe?”

“You’re more beautiful, and you have much more sense and talent. There is no comparison.”

“But she is more expressive and sociable. Everyone loves Phoebe.”

“Mr. Langdon doesn’t. Haven’t you ever noticed that your cousin’s eyes are small and her chin is rather weak?”