A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(40)

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.”