A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(17)
“Forgive me for being late,” Felicity said, slightly out of breath, “but I quite lost myself in reading Mrs. Radcliffe’s latest novel, The Italian. Have you read it, Julia?” Felicity asked.
“No. I read The Mysteries of Udolpho, but it was not to my taste.”
“Ah yes, you are much too sensible to read such novels, Julia, but I confess, Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels are my favorites.”
Felicity’s strawberry-blond hair perfectly suited her pale porcelain skin and green eyes. Men always took a second look at her but shied away when they learned she had no fortune. She never seemed to notice or care, and she was Julia’s favorite walking companion.
“I suppose Miss Appleby did not want to join us.”
“No, she’s already had her morning walk and was frightened by there being too many men in the streets this morning. She’s worn out from dodging their eye contact.”
“Poor Miss Appleby,” Julia said of Felicity’s shy spinster aunt. “We must be off, then. The Bartholdys will wonder why we are so late.” With that, Julia and Felicity set out for Bishopsgate Street.
While alone in the carriage, Julia quickly related to Felicity what had happened at the ball.
“Perhaps Mr. Edgerton is in love with you, Julia,” Felicity said. “I know he made you feel uncomfortable, but perhaps he does not know the right way to flirt, or he was about to ask you to marry him but you left too quickly.”
“Perhaps.” Julia hated to falsely accuse anyone.
They had a nice visit with the Bartholdys, talking nearly the entire time about music and composers, perhaps Julia’s favorite subject of conversation, and Madame Bartholdy served them her special cream cake.
When the visit was over, Julia’s driver took them back to Mayfair, dropping Felicity off at her nearby house.
Once home again, Julia took off her gloves and bonnet and started up to her room. Phoebe appeared at the top of the stairs and hurried down so quickly Julia held her breath, fearing she would miss a step in her haste and fall headlong.
“Julia, where have you been?” Without giving her time to reply, Phoebe rushed on. “You’ll never guess what Father has done. He has invited Mr. Langdon to come to dine with us in two days!”
Of course such a thing would thrill Phoebe, but why did Julia feel a sudden rush of breath into her lungs as her heart skipped a beat? She inwardly scowled and ignored her foolish reaction.
“You must help me flirt with him,” Phoebe said, not even glancing at Julia as she clasped her hands together and continued to dance around on tiptoe, too excited to be still. “You must tell him my good qualities and make me seem more genteel than I really am. If you love me, you will help me secure his affections before he must leave again for the war, for I cannot bear to think he could go away without my having made an impression on him. Please say you will help me, Julia.”
Julia looked into her cousin’s blue-gray eyes, at the frightening desperation there, and whispered, “Of course I will help you.”
What was she saying? She couldn’t make Mr. Langdon fall in love with Phoebe any more than she could control her own destiny by marrying well to escape becoming a governess. “I shall do my best to mention all your best qualities, Phoebe, but please be reasonable. If he does not fall in love with you—”
“Oh, Julia, let’s not speak of reason or realistic practicalities or anything of the sort. If I can make him fall in love with me, I shall, and if you can help me in any way, I will be grateful to you forever.” Phoebe smiled with her entire face and then giggled and hurried back up the stairs.
CHAPTER SIX
Julia dressed with care for the dinner party. She’d seen a glimpse of the guest list and Mr. Edgerton was on it.
What were Mr. Edgerton’s intentions? She would simply have to keep her distance and stay close to the rest of the party. Molly had come early to dress her and fix her hair. Julia wore a white silk dress, and Molly had decorated her hair with white ribbons and pearls. Ready before anyone else, Julia sat trying to read a book, her stomach flipping nervously every time she thought of Mr. Edgerton or Mr. Langdon, but for different reasons.
Phoebe burst into the room. “You are ready, I see.” Her countenance fell when she looked at Julia. “You look beautiful. What did Molly do to your hair?”
“She said it was something new she learned. Don’t you like it?”
Phoebe huffed. “Of course, but why did she fix your hair like that and not mine?” She pushed out her bottom lip.
“Shall I call Molly back?” Julia moved toward the bell pull.
Phoebe hesitated and then said, “No. I don’t think I could sit still another minute.” She wrung her hands and fidgeted with the lace on her dress.
“You look lovely. I’m sure you will not fail to please, but do not be so anxious.”
Phoebe laughed, a nervous sound. “That will not be so easy, since all my happiness depends on whether I can inspire Mr. Langdon’s affection for me.”
Julia could repeat her usual words for Phoebe to not place so much importance on one man whose heart she had no control over and who had not shown very particular interest in her, but she bit her lip instead. Perhaps tonight would be different. Perhaps he would fall in love with her after all.
Nicholas would be paired with Miss Phoebe Wilhern for dinner, he had no doubt. The way everyone in the room was looking at them—Mrs. Wilhern with her large, languid eyes; Mr. Wilhern’s small, foxlike eyes pinning first Miss Wilhern, and then Nicholas, with a searching look; even Miss Julia Grey, whose stiff shoulders were the only clue she was nervous, kept looking their way, hovering as if she wanted to help Miss Wilhern but was afraid to draw too near.