A Spy's Devotion (The Regency Spies of London #1)(70)

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Uncle Wilhern.” She glared at him, stare for stare.

Finally, he turned away and left her room.

Julia examined her arm. It ached terribly where her uncle had dug into her soft flesh. Bruises were already appearing on the white skin on the underside of her arm, one for each of his cruel, biting fingers.

How dare he physically bully her! She closed her eyes, trying to keep the hate from overwhelming her.

A timid knock came at her door. Julia took a deep breath, let it out, and called, “Come in.”

Phoebe stuck her head in. “Is Father gone?” She came inside, closed the door behind her, and then hurried across the room to Julia. “What was that about? Was Father threatening you? Surely he wouldn’t . . . Is he forcing you to marry Mr. Edgerton?”

How much should she confess to Phoebe? Her cousin would despise her when the truth came out, when she discovered that Julia and Mr. Langdon, the man Phoebe hoped to marry, had conspired to put her father in prison and change her privileged life forever. Julia’s heart suddenly ached with the imminent loss of her closest friend.

“Phoebe, I . . . I am still not feeling entirely well. Your father was speaking to me about Mr. Edgerton. He believes my marrying Mr. Edgerton is for the best.” Julia kept her face turned away. Phoebe was not the most perceptive person, but Julia didn’t want to risk her reading her expression.

“I am sure that is true, Julia. Mr. Edgerton is handsome. At least you won’t have unattractive children.”

Was that truly Phoebe’s first thought?

“Uh, yes. Will you do something for me, Phoebe?”

“Of course.”

“Will you let me know when Mr. Edgerton arrives back in London, if you hear anything? Or if you hear anything of him?”

“I will, Julia. But don’t worry. Mr. Edgerton is a gentleman, and Father told me he truly loves you. You will be content with him, and Father also said he is buying an estate in Warwickshire. We can visit each other every day, nearly, and everything will be as it always was.”

A sudden attack of tears had Julia blinking rapidly and nodding.

“It will all be well,” Phoebe said, squeezing her arm comfortingly.

Julia gasped in pain, as Phoebe had squeezed the place where Mr. Wilhern had bruised her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Marriage to Mr. Edgerton will not be bad. You will see.”

A lump in her throat suddenly choked off her air, but Julia fought it down and simply nodded, trying to smile.

“Will you come down to dinner?”

“No, I think I need to rest.”

“I shall have your dinner sent up to you, then.”

Julia nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

After Phoebe left, Julia walked to her window and looked out on the street below. If only she could get a note to Mr. Langdon. He might be in danger. After all, they were ridding themselves of Julia. Forcing her to marry Mr. Edgerton would prevent her from testifying against him, and, consequently, Mr. Wilhern. Now that he knew of Mr. Langdon’s involvement . . .

But it was much too dangerous to try to write to Mr. Langdon, and even if her uncle had not forbidden her to leave her room, someone might follow her.

Just then, a man who was slightly hunched approached their front door, looking quickly back the way he had come and then over his shoulder, as if trying to see if anyone was following him. Then he disappeared into the house.

Surely this man was meeting with her uncle. What if he were bringing information that Nicholas needed?

Julia slipped out of her room and hurried down the stairs to the floor below. As she reached the corridor that led to her uncle’s study, she heard male voices. She stood still and listened. They were coming from farther down the corridor, near the front door.

Julia might only have a second or two. She ran the few feet down the corridor, which felt like a few hundred feet, and darted in through the open doorway of Mr. Wilhern’s study.

Quickly, she swung open the door of the wardrobe and stepped inside, squatting and closing the door behind her. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing and her pounding heart while she waited.

She heard footsteps coming closer. Two men passed by the crack in the door of the wardrobe. One was her uncle and the other was the man who had approached the front door just moments ago.

Julia kept her eye up to the crack as her uncle pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Take this,” he said, “and deliver it to Nicholas Langdon. I’ve forged his friend John Wilson’s signature and handwriting, asking him to come tonight to the Children’s Aid Mission at eight o’clock to help him with something urgent. Then you must be at the corner of Bishopsgate Street and Halfmoon Alley no later than seven thirty. Wait on the opposite side of the street and shoot him from there.”

Shoot him.

The breath rushed out of Julia’s lungs, but she focused on not making a sound.

“Are you sure you will remember all that?” her uncle asked.

“Of course.” The man repeated all that Mr. Wilhern had told him, ending with, “and I’ll shoot Langdon from across the street and then run like the hell hounds are at my heels.”

“Good. And don’t come back here. I’ll come to you.”

“Yes, sir.”