A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(61)

When Phoebe returned, Mr. Wilhern was just behind her, a severe look on his face.

“Julia, Father and I came to inquire how you’re feeling. Are you able to come down to dinner?”

“I do not think so.” Speaking brought on a violent attack of coughing.

“You no doubt have the same malady Phoebe had,” Mr. Wilhern said. “Only a cold. Stay in bed and you will be well by Friday.”

“Yes, Uncle.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


Julia woke herself up during the night, coughing and feeling feverish. When Phoebe came into her room the next morning, she asked, “How do you feel? Any better?”

Julia shook her head.

“You do not look well at all. Shall I tell Mother to send for Dr. Alcott? Do you think you have a fever? Your cheeks look very flushed.”

Julia tried to speak but was overtaken by a coughing fit.

“Poor Julia. I shall go tell Mother.” Phoebe hurried out of the room.

Instead of her aunt, Mr. Wilhern came into the room again with Phoebe. “Are you sick?” he asked without preamble. “Or is this a ploy to avoid marrying Edgerton tomorrow?”

“Father!” Phoebe stared, openmouthed and wide eyed. “How can you be so unfeeling? Julia is obviously very sick.” She stepped to Julia’s bedside and laid her hand on her forehead. “She’s burning up with fever and has a horrendous cough.”

Mr. Wilhern appeared unmoved. “Very well. Since she is so sick, we shall postpone the wedding until we return from Bath.”

Phoebe again stared at her father with an open mouth. She slammed her fists on her hips. “Father, you shall owe Julia an apology when you realize how sick she is.”

Julia observed them through a haze of pain and fever. All she could think of was that she was not sure she could escape Mr. Edgerton tomorrow, as sick as she felt.

“Julia,” Phoebe said, leaning over her, “you will try to get better, won’t you? I cannot bear it if something should happen to you.”

Julia began to say, “I have every intention of getting better,” but a fit of coughing cut her off, leaving her too exhausted to do anything except nod her head.

“Mother is choosing a servant to tend you. She says I must not come in here anymore, as you may be contagious, but I shall pray for you.”

“Thank you,” Julia rasped, managing a smile for Phoebe.



Julia quickly realized she shouldn’t lie on her back or the coughing would be worse. She lay on her side for a while and then propped herself up with pillows.

Kitty, one of the kitchen servants, came into the room with a tray of tea, waking Julia from a light sleep.

Julia tried to sit up higher and took the proffered cup of tea with trembling fingers.

“I will come again to see if you are better, after the family has gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yes, the family is going to Bath. They decided to go a day early.”

So they would not even pretend to be concerned about her. No matter. At least she had the great relief of not having to marry Hugh Edgerton tomorrow—although her uncle would no doubt usher her to the altar just as soon as she was well again.



Julia slept fitfully. The night felt like a bad dream as she was frequently awakened by her cough and the pain in her chest. She was relieved when it was over and the sun peeked through her window, although she was still exhausted and feverish.

Her chest hurt more than ever, and even her ribs and her back were starting to ache from all the coughing. When the latest fit was over, she leaned forward, trying to breathe. Her chest felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant fist. She couldn’t draw in a complete breath. She sucked in air as hard as she could, but her chest felt so tight. The pain was excruciating. Was she dying?

She lay back against the pillows. As she struggled to breathe, she could hear a rattling sound coming from her chest.

Julia forced herself to get up and walk about the room. Perhaps she would feel better after moving around.

Rather than feeling better, her head began to pound and her vision began to spin. She saw black spots. She went back to the bed as quickly as possible and fell across it, lying there on top of the blanket.

While she lay waiting for her vision to return and her heart to stop jolting inside her, she prayed, Dear God, if I die, please take care of Phoebe when her father is apprehended for treason. Send her a kind gentleman to marry her and take care of her. And if possible, let her never find out that I helped send her father to prison. And please . . . let Mr. Langdon find happiness. He is a good sort of man.



Nicholas waited for his sister to finish her breakfast. She was eating exceedingly slowly this morning.

He had not seen Miss Grey in several days, not since the day she had delivered the information that had been so valuable. They now had enough to arrest Robert Wilhern and Hugh Edgerton, and they could stop the four men who were being sent to kill General Wellington. But they were waiting to apprehend them until the actual date of the ship’s departure as they endeavored to gain as much information as possible on those who were helping Wilhern and Edgerton on the Continent.

In the meantime, had something happened to Julia? He had heard Phoebe was sick and that was why they had not attended the assembly more than a week ago, but that did not explain why he had not seen them since. Finally, Nicholas approached his sister.