A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(21)

“Can you not guess the young man? Surely you have noticed his attentions to you.”

Mr. Dinklage first came to mind, but she couldn’t imagine him having the courage to speak to her uncle, and he was even less likely to brave his mother’s disapproval. Mr. Langdon came unbidden to her thoughts, but of course, it could not be. He had shown no preference for her. Mr. Edgerton . . . yes, it must be he, although she wished it weren’t. Oh, what could she say? Her uncle no doubt thought she would be foolish not to accept him. Her hands started to tremble.

“Since you will not venture a guess,” her uncle said, pacing slowly from one side of his desk to the other, his hands behind his back, “I shall tell you. Mr. Hugh Edgerton. He is a gentleman and will be able, in a few weeks, to support you very well. He will arrive soon in anticipation of your answer.”

“Uncle, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what to say?” The hardness crept into his voice. “You will accept him.”

“I—I am sorry, Uncle. I am very sorry to disappoint anyone, but I cannot accept him.”

Her uncle stopped and scowled at her from across his desk. “What? Can’t accept him? You had better have a very good reason for refusing a gentleman whose interest in you is obviously earnest. He does you a great honor, as you have no fortune at all.” He leaned over his desk, his eyes wide, his jaw twitching.

A trickle of perspiration made its way down Julia’s back, between her shoulder blades. “I do not love Mr. Edgerton, and I have doubts about his character.”

“What doubts could you have about his character?” His lip curled as his tone turned biting. “You, who have no other prospects at all. What reasonable objections could you have to his character?”

She could not avoid answering the question without appearing to defy her uncle. Her heart beat hard and fast against her chest. The thin muslin of her dress clung to her back and shoulders, even though the fire in the study was small. “He has done nothing perverse that I can say with conviction or that I know of personally. It is only a feeling that I have when I look into his eyes, that his thoughts are not those of a gentleman. And there are rumors of his gambling and debts. I do not wish to criticize any gentleman, but he also drinks too much . . . on occasion.”

Was it her imagination, or had her uncle’s eyes suddenly become bloodshot?

“And what if he does have a few vices? What gentleman does not have a few gaming debts and occasionally drinks too much? Are you so fine that you can look down your nose at the one man who is asking for your hand in marriage?”

Julia felt the blood drain from her face at her uncle’s words. She could no longer meet his hard stare, and he turned his back on her.

Dear heavenly host, what could she possibly say? She’d rather become a governess than marry Mr. Edgerton. But her uncle’s words made her feel as if she were being ungrateful by refusing to marry him. Perhaps marriage to the man would not be so terrible. But she could not resign herself to marry someone she felt no affection for, someone who filled her with mistrust. It was too abhorrent, the thought of giving herself, mind and body, to a man she did not love. She simply could not do it.

But the thought of her uncle being angry with her, thinking less of her than she had ever believed he could . . . Tears pricked her eyes.

She blinked and fought them back. This was no time to give in to weakness and emotional displays. Her uncle would respect her even less than he already did.

He went on, keeping his back to her. “I believe I know what is best for you, and it is my wish, as your guardian, that you marry this young man.”

“Please forgive me, Uncle. You must know that I have always, and still do, wish to please you in every possible way that does not violate my conscience. I . . .”

“Your aunt and I took you in when you had no other place to go.” He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Yes, sir, and I’m very grateful to you and Aunt.” The tears were encroaching again. “You have been the utmost in charity and kindness, and I—”

“I gave you all the same advantages my own daughter enjoyed.”

“Yes, sir, and I am terribly mindful of that, very thankful and mindful.”

“Then why do you defy me now with the insinuation that the man who wishes to marry you, and to whom I have already given my approval, is not good enough for you? Does that smack of gratitude, I ask you?”

Julia’s face went hot, and her stomach sank. She clasped her damp hands together to keep them from trembling. “I never meant—”

“What high and lofty ambitions are you expecting out of life, Miss Grey?”

She forced herself to meet her uncle’s hard stare. “I have no high and lofty ambitions. My aunt has made it quite clear that I have no choice but to be sent away to be someone’s governess.”

“I should think, if that be the case, that you would be very grateful for a gentleman’s offer such as Mr. Edgerton’s.”

Perhaps this was why her aunt had made such humiliating statements about Julia. Perhaps they had planned to make her feel forced into marriage to Mr. Edgerton. But why?

“Do you doubt his ability to support you?”

“I doubt his ability to secure my affections. I regret that it is so, but it is, and it violates my conscience to marry someone I do not love and could not respect.”