A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(67)
A few hours later, Phoebe came in to tell Julia all about their call on the Langdons. Mr. Langdon had been on his way out, but when he saw them, he had stayed and talked to Phoebe.
“And you will never believe what happened.” Phoebe’s face was alight, her small eyes round and her mouth open.
“What?”
“Mother asked him and Leorah if they would promise to visit us this winter in Warwickshire, and Leorah said she thought perhaps she would be able to, and Mr. Langdon said the same. What do you think of that? And when he comes, Father will offer him twenty thousand pounds to marry me. I could be married before next spring.”
Julia’s heart skipped a beat. Would her uncle actually approach Mr. Langdon about marrying his daughter, dangling her dowry in front of him as incentive? Perhaps he already suspected—or knew—that Mr. Langdon was spying on him. Of course Uncle Wilhern would want him to marry his daughter—to ensure that he would not ever testify against him.
Aside from all that, it was simply amazing that Phoebe was content to have her father offer her in marriage to the man, referencing her twenty thousand pounds as an inducement.
Julia listened as Phoebe talked for ten minutes about how handsome Mr. Langdon was, about his height, his grace and presence on the dance floor, his impeccable taste in clothing, and what the other girls of her acquaintance had said about how handsome he was. In all her ecstatic ramblings, she said not one word about his character.
Because she didn’t know anything about his fine character, his compassion, or his sensibleness and sensibility. She didn’t know of his work at the Children’s Aid Mission on behalf of the poor. What would Phoebe say when she found out about that? And perhaps more importantly, Phoebe didn’t know that he was doing his duty to his fellow officers and his country by finding evidence of her father’s treachery.
“He told me how glad he was that you have me to talk to while you are sick. He said I must make you smile and keep you company as much as possible. Do you think he likes me, Julia?” Phoebe looked at her with wide, pleading eyes.
Julia shifted against the pillows behind her back. She cleared her throat and then reached for her cup of tea. “Of course.” She took a sip. “What else did he say?”
Phoebe looked disappointed at Julia’s answer. She frowned and then continued, “He asked me about my trip to Bath.”
Because he is polite.
“And he asked if we were coming to the ball tonight and said that he would be there.” Phoebe arched her eyebrows and smirked.
He was making small talk.
“And he asked about you a lot, what the doctor said yesterday, if you were still coughing, and if you were out of bed yet.” She frowned. “Sometimes I wonder if he prefers you, Julia. Mother thinks the same thing.”
“Don’t be silly.” Julia picked at the fringe on her dressing gown. “He was only being kind. You know how thoughtful he is.”
“Yes, but he did ask particularly about you, Julia.” Phoebe’s lips formed a pout.
“He knows how sick I was, and yet he hasn’t come to visit me, has he?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” Julia searched her mind to think of another topic. “You never told me much about your time in Bath, Phoebe. You said your cousins were well. How many balls did you attend?”
“I attended two balls, where I was introduced to so many people I could never remember all their faces and certainly not their names, and two dinner parties, which were tedious beyond belief. Even you would have complained. We went to a concert because Lydia insisted—you remember Lydia—but it was even more boring than the dinner parties, although you would have liked the concert, Julia.”
Yes, she would have very much liked to go to a concert or the theatre, but her aunt and uncle and Phoebe rarely went. Theatre was not to their taste, and Phoebe despised concerts. She said it made her want to scream to have to sit in one place for so long and not make a sound. And the music was never to her liking. Besides, music was made for dancing, Phoebe said, and simply sitting and watching the musicians play was excruciatingly dull.
“I did see Mr. Dinklage in Bath. At first I couldn’t remember who he was. Can you believe it? He seemed quite altered, thinner. He said he had been very ill himself. He also seemed pleased to see a familiar face. He didn’t know a soul in Bath and was only there because his mother wanted to take the waters, and she was in such poor health that she kept to her room. He did ask after you, Julia, but the look on his face was so wistful and pained. I do believe he will always regret you.”
“He will forget me.”
“Julia! It isn’t like you to be heartless.”
“I’m not being heartless. He threw me over for his mother.”
“Oh, Julia!” Phoebe laughed quite raucously. “What a funny thing to say! But I suppose it is true.” She shook her head. “He was never handsome enough for you.”
“I am sorry I flirted with him, poor man, but I don’t think I ever would have married him.”
“Oh, of course not.” Phoebe flipped her wrist in a dismissive gesture. Then she smiled as her mind caught on something more interesting. “The Langdons will soon be going back to their own country estate, and as soon as you are well enough to travel, we shall go home to Wilhern Manor. Then we will await Leorah and Mr. Langdon’s arrival.” Phoebe clasped her hands and squealed. “Is it not too wonderful?”