A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(7)

As if Phoebe needed any help getting a husband, with her twenty thousand pounds. Phoebe’s reckless infatuation with Mr. Langdon and Julia’s loyalty to Phoebe had caused her to do something she wouldn’t normally do. But from now on, Julia would be strictly sensible—and stay away from Mr. Langdon.

She could hear Phoebe in her dressing room across the hall, doling out instructions to the lady’s maid, Molly, who was dressing Phoebe’s hair for the party.

Julia pinned the last strand of her own brown hair in place. Her hair was easy to curl, and it was much too thick to need false locks to make it look tall and full. Still, her coiffure was rather plain. She could ask Molly for help with some ribbon, pearls, or other ornaments, but she dismissed the thought, not wanting to displease Aunt Wilhern, who could become extremely vexed if Molly was helping Julia when she needed her.

“Can’t you make it higher, Molly?” Phoebe’s voice carried through her open doorway.

“I’m trying, miss,” Molly’s patient voice answered.

“See how flat it is? I look like I just came in out of the rain.”

Phoebe could occasionally be petulant with the servants and her parents, but with Julia she was invariably affectionate and warm. Julia admired her cousin’s ability to make conversation without being intimidated by even the most formidable military officer or dowager. Phoebe’s verbosity and easy banter made her a favorite with many. She did perhaps go a bit too far at times with her talkativeness and drew a muttered “Impertinent girl” occasionally, which Phoebe never seemed to hear.

A knock came at Julia’s open door. Sarah Peck stood at the threshold.

“Come in, Sarah.” Julia had long since stopped calling her former governess by her surname. She was too near Julia’s own age to take offense, and Sarah had become Julia and Phoebe’s companion since they no longer needed a governess. Julia and Sarah were of similar natures, and Sarah was also an orphan, brought up to educate others.

Sarah stepped in and shut the door behind her. Her pretty face bore a sad, drawn look and an almost wild glint in her green eyes. Her reddish-blond hair was pulled back away from her face.

“What is it?”

“I am departing tomorrow, to go to my new situation.”

“What? You are leaving?” Julia had thought the Wilherns would keep Sarah on as a companion for Julia and Phoebe, at least a while longer.

Sarah nodded. “A situation in Sussex Mrs. Wilhern found for me, with four boys and two girls.” A tear slipped down Sarah’s cheek.

Julia stood and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Oh, Sarah.”

Sarah sniffed and fumbled to reach her handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

Julia tried to think of some words of comfort. “I shall miss you terribly, and I know Phoebe will too. Please do write to us. We will write too, if you wish it.”

Sarah nodded. “Yes, I thank you for that.” She looked Julia in the eye, grabbing her forearm and leaning close. Her voice strained and insistent, even strident, she said, “Julia, you must marry.”

Julia was taken aback by her sudden entreaty, as well as by the intensity in Sarah’s red-rimmed eyes.

“I will do my best, Sarah, but you know we always promised each other never to marry unless there was a strong attachment.”

“Who was that man I saw mooning over you two nights ago?”

Julia blinked, trying to think whom she meant.

“I saw a young gentleman staring at you all night. He did not ask you to dance, but you gave him no encouragement at all. I believe his name is Dinklage.”

“Daniel Dinklage? He couldn’t be interested in me. Everyone knows his mother intends him to marry well. He might be interested in Phoebe—she has twenty thousand pounds, but I have no—”

“Listen to me.” Sarah tightened her grip on Julia’s arm. “He isn’t interested in Phoebe. He’s interested in you. His eyes drank you in every moment of the evening. You should secure his affections, and as soon as possible.”

Secure his affections? “I hardly know the man.”

“Julia, do you want to become like me?” Her voice lowered to a rough whisper. “A governess? Torn away from the family you have come to love, every few years sent to live with new strangers, with no real ties to anyone?” Tears swam in her eyes, and her chin trembled. She gave Julia’s arm a little shake. “Make as advantageous a match as is in your power.”

“Sarah!” Julia blinked, hardly able to believe her friend’s mercenary plea.

“Marry any gentleman rather than become a governess. To be a governess is a living death, like being in the grave and yet alive. It is always looking at love, observing it, but never able to touch it.” She covered her mouth as a quiet sob escaped her.

“Oh, Sarah.” Julia groped for the right words. “God will never forsake you. You must believe that. Something good will come to you. You are a commendable, faithful, handsome young woman. You never know what your future may hold.” Julia grasped Sarah’s trembling hand.

“No, you know it isn’t likely . . . that I shall ever have a family of my own, that anyone would ever want to marry . . . a governess.” Sarah was crying in earnest now, her head down and face covered with her handkerchief.

Sarah looked up, her face red and blotchy. “You must marry, Julia. Promise me.”