A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(59)

“I shall leave you word, if I possibly can.”

“Good day, Mr. Langdon.” Julia watched as his fingers let go of hers. She forced herself to continue the short distance to her front door.

As she entered the front vestibule and began removing her bonnet, her uncle stepped from the front sitting room. “Was that Mr. Langdon I saw you speaking with?”

“Yes. I took a short walk to the park, and he—”

“Is there something between you and Mr. Langdon? What were you talking of?” Uncle Wilhern’s eyes were narrowed, a sharp look in the small dark orbs.

“Nothing very particular. He . . . he asked after my health.”

Her uncle stared at her. Julia began pulling off her gloves. “If you have no further need of me, Uncle, I shall go up to my room.”

“Just a moment.” He seemed to be thinking, and then he said, “I want you to go and tell Phoebe you’ll be marrying Mr. Edgerton on Friday morning by special license.”

Julia hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course. I tell Phoebe everything.” She held her head high as she walked toward the stairs and started up. When she reached the top of the landing, she looked over her shoulder. Her uncle was still eyeing her. But at least he had not left the house and followed Mr. Langdon to the park.

Julia headed toward Phoebe’s room, knocked lightly on it, and entered.

Phoebe sneezed violently.

“Phoebe, what is the matter? Are you unwell?”

“You know I am never unwell.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose, a peevish tone in her voice. “But I do feel a bit feverish.”

Julia stepped toward her and placed her hand on Phoebe’s brow. “You are very warm. I think you do have a fever.”

“Well, I refuse to be sick.” Phoebe crossed her arms. “Don’t tell Mother, or she will make me go to bed.”

“Perhaps you should go to bed, Phoebe.”

“Not only will I not go to bed, but I want to go for a walk. Come, Julia. Let us walk to the park and see who is out and about.”

The last thing Julia wanted to do was go for a walk with Phoebe and run into Mr. Langdon as he was retrieving her note.

“I am not in the mood for a walk, Phoebe, but I did come to your room to tell you something important.” How well did Phoebe truly know Julia? Surely she would realize Julia had no desire to marry Mr. Edgerton.

“Phoebe, I have agreed to marry Mr. Edgerton. We shall be married by special license on Friday morning.”

Phoebe’s eyes grew wide. Then she sat down abruptly on the side of her bed. “You have accepted Mr. Edgerton? You are marrying on Friday?”

No. “Yes.”

“When did you accept him, Julia? Why did you not tell me?”

“I only accepted him today. Your father wanted me to accept him.”

“Mr. Edgerton is handsome. I am sure you will be content with him, Julia, as long as we can be settled near each other. I believe Father said Mr. Edgerton would buy an estate near Wilhern Manor so we could be close.”

Carefully, Julia said, “You think I will be happy with Mr. Edgerton, then?”

“I think so.” Phoebe suddenly placed her hand against her chest. “I am not feeling well. I think . . . I feel feverish.” She coughed and then moaned. “Fetch Mother. I think she will want to send for the doctor.”

Was that all Phoebe had to say about the matter? But perhaps she was very sick after all.

Julia turned and went to fetch Mrs. Wilhern.

In four days she would be Mrs. Hugh Edgerton, as far as her uncle and Phoebe knew. But if her uncle and Mr. Edgerton were not apprehended on charges of treason and plotting to assassinate General Wellington before then, Julia would run away. She could go to the Bartholdys, but they were poor and she did not want to be a burden on them. They were kind and would take her in for a short while, but that was certainly not a long-term solution.

She had overheard someone speaking of a governess position in the country, the Atherton family in Suffolk, who had six children. And suddenly, she was desperate enough to wish for that position, a way to make her own living and escape her uncle and Mr. Edgerton. She would write to Mrs. Atherton today about the position.

Mr. Langdon had said he would help her if she found herself in danger, but she didn’t think he meant this sort of trouble. She would see him tomorrow night as they were all attending an assembly. Perhaps she could let him know that time was running out for her.



The next morning, Julia pulled the covers up to Phoebe’s chin.

“I can’t be sick.” Phoebe peevishly swatted at the blanket.

“You are coughing, you have a fever, and your nose and eyes are too red to fool anyone into thinking you are well.”

Phoebe threw her head down into the pillow and burst into tears. “I’ll miss seeing Mr. Langdon at the assembly tonight. It’s not fair.”

“If you don’t rest and get well, you’ll miss the trip to Bath later this week, and your aunt and uncle and cousins will be very disappointed in not seeing you.”

Julia handed Phoebe a handkerchief. “You’ll only make your head hurt by crying. The physician said you must not upset yourself. You must drink your tea and take your medicine and you will be better in a few days. But if you don’t, it could go to your lungs, and that could be dangerous.”