A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(58)

“Yes, Uncle Wilhern?”

The look on his face was hard and suspicious, but didn’t he always look like that?

“I think you should marry Mr. Edgerton right away.”

“Right away? Oh.”

“You have no objections, do you?”

“Oh no, but when you say right away, do you mean—”

“I mean by the end of the week. He plans to get a special license.”

“The end of the week?” How could she put him off? He would become even more suspicious. “That is so soon. What will . . . what will I . . .” In her panic, tears stung her eyes.

“I wish it. It is to be on Friday. I will see to the arrangements.” His jaw was hard and his eyes black and cold.

Julia’s stomach turned inside out.

“You do not object. Good. I have made up my mind and will not change it. Friday. It is your wedding day.” He seemed to grit his teeth together. “And, Julia, if you betray me . . .”

He knew. Her cheeks tingled as the blood drained from her face. “Betray you, Uncle? Of course not. Whatever could you mean?” God, please let me look innocent.

He stared hard at her. “Then you are willing to marry Mr. Edgerton on Friday?”

Her breath came in shallow spurts, pulsing in her lungs. “I am.” What else could she say? She had no choice but to agree. But if she agreed too readily . . . she allowed two tears to fall onto her cheeks.

At first her uncle merely stared. Finally, he said, “Think of how happy you are making my friend Mr. Edgerton.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? She let another tear fall.

“Well, then, I shall leave you. But do not forget your ride with Mr. Edgerton in the morning.”

Julia found a handkerchief on her night table and wiped her cheek.

Her uncle gave her one last penetrating look and then left the room.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


Julia allowed the tears to come freely. She had never realized what a relief it was to cry. Perhaps Phoebe had discovered this quite some time ago, which was why she cried so often.

After several minutes of letting the tears flow, Julia finally wiped her face and poured herself some water, all the while aware of the paper stabbing her under her arm beneath her clothing.

Julia wandered about the room. Would it be safe to deliver her note to the message tree now? Or should she wait? No one ever noticed her in the mornings, but her uncle might follow her if she left now.

She pulled the paper out of her bodice and stuffed it in her reticule. She took up her bonnet and went downstairs.

No one was around. No one asked her where she was going. With any luck, she could get to the park and be back within ten minutes, and no one would even know she had left the house.

She arrived at the park, making her face a picture of contentment and calm. It was the hour when many people were out, taking the air, walking or riding, and she was forced to acknowledge several people before she turned the corner to find her tree.

She approached it and slipped the paper out of her reticule and then placed it into the knothole.

She had done what she could. But anything could happen. Someone else could find her paper. Her uncle could realize what she had done, could easily imagine that Nicholas Langdon was her contact. After all, Mr. Langdon had been the one in possession of the diary. Not only that, but he was staying in London a suspiciously long time after his recovery from his injuries.

What if her uncle had followed her and seen her put the paper in the tree? Or Mr. Edgerton? They’d make sure Mr. Langdon never received the information. Perhaps they would even kill Julia—and Mr. Langdon.

She had to stop these racing thoughts. She concentrated on breathing and walking and not thinking.

When she was nearly home again, a man turned the corner and was walking toward her. Julia’s breath went out of her, and she stumbled.

It was Nicholas Langdon.

He caught sight of her when she was still several feet away, and he smiled.

She approached him. They were actually in sight of the Wilhern house. Anyone looking out of the front windows might see them. People were passing them on foot and in carriages.

“Mr. Langdon.”

“Miss Grey.” He tipped his hat to her and then leaned his head toward her. “Forgive me for saying so, but you are looking a bit pale. Are you unwell?”

“There is something for you at the park,” she said as blandly as possible. Should she risk telling him that her uncle was planning to force her to marry Mr. Edgerton on Friday? Of course there was nothing he could do, and she did not want anyone seeing them talking.

He kept his eyes trained on her face, as he said quietly, “Are you in danger, Miss Grey?”

What could she say? “No. You should go. It’s very important.” She smiled to put him at ease and so no one would suspect that their conversation was anything but polite and appropriate.

“Thank you, Miss Grey.” He said the words carefully. “If the worst happens, you will come to my home, to my sister, Leorah. Promise me.”

“I shall try my best.” She had to blink quickly to push back the tears.

He clasped her hand in his.

“You should go before someone sees us.” When he looked reluctant, she said, “The best thing you can do for me is to take the note to our mutual friends and convince them to act upon it immediately.”