A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(60)

Phoebe blew her nose loudly and turned her head away. “You won’t go tonight without me, will you, Julia?”

“No, of course not.” Julia tried not to sound disappointed. “Your mother and father will stay home as well, I’m sure.” Truly, it was best she did not see Mr. Langdon any more than was necessary. She didn’t want her uncle to see her talking to Mr. Langdon again. Besides, if Phoebe suspected even half of what Julia felt when she saw Mr. Langdon . . .

“Get some sleep.” Julia squeezed Phoebe’s arm. “Send for me if you want me to come and read to you.”

Phoebe sniffed but didn’t answer. Julia slipped out and went to her own room to secretly pack a bag, in case she had to leave in a hurry.



Julia had hoped when she went to bed early that she would feel better in the morning.

Phoebe’s fever had only lasted a few hours, and after three days she seemed to be recovering from her cough, but Julia’s throat hurt, her head ached, and a cough had started deep in her chest. That morning, she woke herself up coughing. Her whole body ached. Mrs. Wilhern and Phoebe would not be awake for quite a while longer, so Julia lay in bed, praying she wasn’t getting sick. Now, of all times, when it was only two days until she would have to escape by whatever means necessary from marriage to Hugh Edgerton.

Julia lay in bed for hours before the maid, Anna, came in and asked if she was unwell.

“I’m afraid I am. When Phoebe wakes up, will you tell her?”

“Yes, miss.”

Anna didn’t even ask her if she could bring her anything. Mrs. Clay, the housekeeper at Wilhern Manor, would have made a fuss over her, bringing her special tea and broth and informing Mr. and Mrs. Wilhern immediately.

Julia got up and poured herself a glass of water. After two sips she was coughing again. She crawled back into bed.

Phoebe burst into the room. “Julia, you cannot be sick! A woman cannot be sick on her wedding day. Do you think you shall be well by Friday?” She stared down at her.

“I am sure I don’t know.” Julia winced at the pain in her chest.

“You are not so very sick, are you, Julia? We are supposed to go to Bath immediately after your wedding to Mr. Edgerton.”

“I’m afraid I am,” Julia rasped, just before an attack of coughing bent her over and violently shook her. “If I am very sick, perhaps we shall be forced to postpone the wedding.” A wisp of hope invaded her aching chest.

“But perhaps it is only a cold and you will be well enough by tomorrow.”

“I do not think—” Julia was seized with such a fit of coughing that she couldn’t finish her sentence. She sat up in bed and coughed so long and hard that tears ran down her cheeks and her chest burned as if with fire.

“Poor Julia. You are quite ill, aren’t you?” Phoebe patted her on the back until she was done.

“Will you . . . ring for . . . some tea?” Julia rasped.

“Of course. That will make you feel better.”

Phoebe sat on the edge of her bed, chattering about how much she would miss seeing Mr. Langdon at all the balls if they should go to Bath as planned. When the tea arrived, Phoebe stood.

“I shall go to Mother at once and beg her to go to Bath without me and let me stay and nurse you, Julia.”

“I would dearly love for you to stay with me, but—”

“I shall tell Mother at once.” Phoebe turned to hurry from the room.

Julia wanted to stop her, but she began to cough again and couldn’t say a word until well after Phoebe had closed the door behind her.

After Julia had drunk her tea, Phoebe walked back into the room, her head and shoulders drooping and her face dejected.

“Mother won’t hear of me staying. She says if you are too sick to marry Mr. Edgerton on Friday, then we will go to Bath early and leave a servant here with you. I am so sad, as I shall dearly hate to go an entire fortnight without seeing you and Mr. Langdon.”

“A fortnight isn’t so terribly long.”

“Of course it is. It is terribly long.” Phoebe sniffed and sank down beside Julia.

Julia refrained from telling Phoebe not to cry. Speaking might make her cough again. Besides, she felt like crying herself at the prospect of being sick when she needed her strength to get away from Hugh Edgerton.

“I don’t understand why I have to spend two weeks of the Season, especially when it is almost over, in Bath, of all the boring places in England.” A tear, followed by another, fell from Phoebe’s eyes and into her lap.

Julia said nothing. She couldn’t remember the last time Phoebe had cried and she hadn’t comforted her, but she didn’t even feel like trying today.

“I shall not have any fun in Bath, for who is in Bath this time of year?” She looked up at Julia. “Someone must take care of you. You are sick, Julia, and I well remember how miserable I was. I am not entirely well as yet.”

Phoebe coughed a bit, and her tears quickly dried as she turned her attention back on Julia. “You always did bear your illnesses better than I. You’re so patient and hardly ever complain. But perhaps you will recover as quickly as I did.”

“Yes, perhaps so.” And in that case, her bag was already packed and hidden in the back of her wardrobe.



Julia spent a miserable day in bed, feeling worse and worse as the day wore on.