A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(41)
“Perhaps he’s so in love with you he became wild with wanting to convince you to marry him, Julia!”
“I don’t think that is quite accurate.” Julia sat down on the side of the bed, and it already felt as if things were back to normal between them. “Besides, everyone knows his family insists they will not sanction his marrying anyone but an heiress, because of his debts.”
“Oh yes, but Father says he has done away with that problem.”
“What do you mean?”
Phoebe shrugged her shoulders. “Father told me he is giving Mr. Edgerton a rather large sum to marry you, which will be enough to cover all his debts.”
“But why would your father do that? Why does he particularly wish me to marry Mr. Edgerton?”
“It is rather strange.” Phoebe’s forehead wrinkled. “I had not thought Father intended to give you a dowry, but . . .” She shrugged again. “Wouldn’t marrying Mr. Edgerton be better than becoming a governess? I know you do not particularly like him, but is he so terrible?”
Julia bit her lip, hard. How would Phoebe feel if she were in Julia’s position and someone asked her the same thing?
She turned away before Phoebe should see the look of anger and resentment that must surely be on her face. Did Julia not deserve happiness or love? Was that what everyone was telling her?
Phoebe said quietly, “Father wishes you to marry Mr. Edgerton. He told me so himself. He believes Mr. Edgerton would make you a good husband, as he sincerely admires you and wants to save you from becoming a governess.”
Julia kept her back turned as hot tears slipped from her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with her fingers and drew in deep breaths to chase the salt drops away.
“But I don’t suppose you have to decide now.” Phoebe sounded nonchalant. Just as Julia was gaining control and forcing back the dam of moisture, Phoebe said, “So you have no intentions toward Mr. Langdon?”
Julia turned to face her cousin. Phoebe was displaying her pouty look, as she tucked her chin to her chest and looked up at Julia.
“None whatever.” Julia’s voice sounded dull and flat.
“And you don’t think he has any toward you?”
“Of course not. Anyway, he has no fortune, he is a sensible man, and he would never desire me over you.” Julia tried to smile but felt the corners of her mouth trembling.
“Oh, Julia, I knew you could never want the man I love.” Phoebe sprang forward and threw her arms around Julia.
Her embrace caused a gnawing in Julia’s chest, and she barely returned the hug.
Julia pulled away. “Do something for me, Phoebe.”
“Of course.”
“Tell your father that you know there is nothing between Mr. Langdon and me, that you know I have no intentions of betraying you in any way, and that I will do anything I can to maneuver Mr. Langdon’s affections in your direction.”
“Oh, will you, Julia?”
“Of course.” Julia ignored the painful knot in her chest.
If Julia could not have a love of her own, at least she could see Phoebe happy. And Mr. Langdon would be her cousin, practically her brother, if he married Phoebe.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Julia took breakfast the next morning with her aunt and Phoebe. Her aunt said no more than was necessary, but Phoebe made a show of speaking with Julia as much as ever, no doubt to reassure Mrs. Wilhern that all was forgiven.
Forgiven. How could Julia help being a little resentful of her relatives for making her feel as if she had committed a sin by allowing herself to dance a second time at a ball with an eligible young man? How different things would be if Julia had a family who loved her as much as the Wilherns loved Phoebe.
But such thoughts would only make her bitter. It was perfectly right and fitting for parents to want the best for their daughter. They couldn’t be expected to care as much for a niece as for their own child.
A manservant entered the room and presented the morning’s post to Mrs. Wilhern. She shuffled through the letters and handed one to Phoebe and one to Julia.
Julia’s was from Sarah Peck. She had wondered if her friend was angry with her after Julia had reported what she had said to Mrs. Dinklage, destroying any hope of a marriage between Julia and Mr. Dinklage. She had also worried she had offended her friend by warning her against becoming so familiar with her employer’s oldest son.
Julia placed the letter in her pocket, quickly drank her tea, and hurried upstairs to read it. Once in her room, she sat by the window and unfolded it.
Dear Julia,
I am sorry I have been a bad correspondent of late. I must tell you that I hardly have any time of my own. When I am not teaching the older children, I am amusing the younger ones. I do not have a single friend in the household besides Mr. William, as the housekeeper is an irascible old complainer, and the other servants treat me as if I think I am better than they are. I confess, I do not crave their company either. And since William is away most of the time, I find myself wishing for a Julia to talk to, or a Phoebe, someone who neither looks down her nose at me, nor thinks me too high-minded—a companion to make my evenings less dreary.
Such is the life of a governess, Julia. You probably think I blame you for what you said to Mrs. Dinklage. I was rather dismayed at the way things ended for you and Mr. Dinklage, but I wish I had been there to hear you give that insufferable woman a rightfully earned set down. She deserved it, I have no doubt, for you are such an even-tempered, docile person, Julia. You are everything that is gentle and good, and you deserve the best of men.