A Spy's Devotion by Melanie Dickerson
“You were spying on me.” The surprise in his voice was unmistakable. “Miss Grey, this is most shocking. I had thought your purpose for coming to the East Side was to visit your dear music instructor, Mr. Bartol—”
“Mr. Langdon, you overstep your bounds with your insinuations.” Julia drew herself up with as much fake dignity as she could muster.
“Come now, Miss Grey. You must admit to following me. What were you hoping to discover?” His look was piercing.
She felt herself blushing furiously. Of course, he had caught her, and she’d be lying if she denied it, but it was most ungentlemanly of him to say so. Should he not be flattered that she had followed him? She might have expected him to tease her and laugh at her silliness in following him. Instead, he looked at her as if she had truly done something wrong.
“Hoping to discover? Why, nothing. That is, you would not tell me your business in the East Side, and I did not know any other way of finding you out.” She longed most fervently to disappear, or to at least wake up and find that she had been dreaming. Why had she let her curiosity get the better of her?
“Now that you have found me out, and now that you know where I go . . .”
“I shall not speak of it,” Julia said quickly. “If that is your wish.”
There was a spark of suspicion in his eye, reminding her of how he had snuck into her uncle’s study. But even though his purpose here today was innocently visiting a mission to play with children, that certainly was not what he had been doing in her uncle’s study. Was he involved in something nefarious? Was that why he looked at her with suspicion in his eyes now? Or did he have a good reason for sneaking into her uncle’s study?
“Thank you, Miss Grey.” He touched her hand, curving his fingers lightly around hers, and lifted it to his lips.
He was not like the other privileged gentlemen of the ton that she was acquainted with. She couldn’t imagine any one of them playing with poor children, or going through her uncle’s study, for that matter. “Will you tell me why?” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Why you come here to play with children?”
His gaze was intent as he seemed to be searching her face for something. “I come to see my friend, Mr. Wilson, and because the children enjoy seeing me. I rather like seeing them as well.” Then he took hold of her hand again and placed it on his arm. “Let me escort you back to the Bartholdys’.”
They walked in silence for a few moments before Mr. Langdon said, “I think you, Miss Grey, of all my acquaintances, might understand.”
Of course she understood. She was an orphan. She was an object of pity at best, scorn at worst, almost as surely as these little neglected children whose lives he tried to brighten. Did he pity her the way he pitied these children? For some reason, the thought made heat rise to her cheeks again. But she was being silly. She had been educated and given a life of privilege and leisure. Her circumstance was blessed beyond anything these poor children of the East Side experienced. He probably was only referring to her friendship with little Henry.
When they arrived back at the Bartholdys’ home, Mr. Langdon stopped Julia a few feet from the door. “Were you truly so curious to see where I was going?” He was smiling again in his teasing way.
Julia smiled too, pretending to make a joke of it. “I suppose I must have a bit of a craving for espionage. But you left me no choice but to spy upon you, since you were so stubbornly determined not to share your secret with me.”
His brown eyes were warm and probing at the same time. “This is a new side of you, Miss Grey.” His shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath. “A pact,” he said, holding out his right hand to her, “never to divulge the other’s secret.”
Julia and Mr. Langdon shook hands like two gentlemen sealing a business agreement. So why then did the touch of his hand send warmth all the way up her arm and make her dwell on things that could never be?
Yet another ball. Perhaps it was only the rain that made Julia dread exiting the coach and entering the town house of their hosts for the evening, Mr. and Mrs. Fortescue, who were trying to get their two daughters married off. But she could avoid neither the ball nor the rain.
Phoebe sat across from her, adjusting her bonnet, while Aunt Wilhern sat in the corner, looking more alert than she had all day. Her aunt and cousin alighted, and Julia followed.
The Fortescues stood at the head of the receiving line, smiling as though they were anxious to please but not sure how to go about it. They had invited every eligible oldest son in London, as well as a few younger sons with good prospects for either the church or a military career. They’d only invited the Wilherns, Julia, and the other young ladies so as not to be talked of badly—and as bait for all the gentlemen.
Julia would, of course, be as pleasant and agreeable as she always was, no matter what she was thinking, as polite society dictated.
She glanced around the room and was pleased to see Felicity Mayson not far away. But a moment later, Mr. Edgerton turned from speaking to Felicity, and a smile spread across his face as he locked eyes with Julia.
Felicity turned back to Mr. Edgerton, no doubt to distract him so Julia could lose herself in the crowd. Julia quickly set out to do just that.
She worked her way through the press of people, exchanging polite greetings with acquaintances but continuing to move, as though she had an important destination. She took a moment to glance behind her, but she didn’t see Mr. Edgerton.
When she turned around again, she bumped into someone. “Excuse me, I’m terribly—”
“Excuse me, Miss—” Mr. Dinklage stopped when he saw to whom he was speaking. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and his cheeks went pale and then just as quickly turned red.
“Mr. Dinklage. Good evening. I trust you are well?”
He swallowed again before saying, “Miss Grey. I am well, I thank you. And you are well? And your family?”
“We are all well. How very kind of you to ask.”
Mr. Dinklage blinked repeatedly and seemed unable to look her in the eye. “I must go . . . to get some refreshment . . . for my mother.” He blushed even redder at the reference to his mother, and she believed he would have sunk beneath the floor if he could have.
“I bear you no ill will, Mr. Dinklage,” Julia said softly. “Let us be friends. Shall we?”
Finally looking her in the eye in a most grateful way, he grasped her hand. “Thank you, Miss Grey. You are too good, I am sure.” Tears seemed to well up in his eyes. “Better than I deserve. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
Julia gave a tug on her hand, hoping to escape the man before too many people noticed them talking so quietly or overheard them. Besides that, she didn’t want to see him cry.
Finally, he let go of her hand.
“Excuse me,” she said as she turned away from Mr. Dinklage and nearly bumped into—
“Mr. Langdon.” She couldn’t help smiling but then saw that he was eyeing her with raised brows.
“Miss Grey.”
Would he tease her about Mr. Dinklage? He seemed about to but instead said, “Would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”
Julia nodded but then immediately felt guilty at the pleasure his asking her to dance afforded her. She must not appear to enjoy his company so much. She tried to suppress her smile and behave as she would if she were dancing with any other gentleman present.
His hand was warm on her back, his other hand firm but gentle on hers as he pressed it. Her cousin Phoebe would be devastated to know that Julia thought about Mr. Langdon every day, even when she tried not to, and that on Tuesdays, Julia looked forward more to meeting him on the street than to actually calling on the Bartholdys.
Forgive me, God.
Julia took her place on the dance floor opposite her handsome partner, for he was especially well looking tonight with his dark coat and snow-white neckcloth against his sun-darkened skin and side whisk
Something caught Julia’s eye, and she glanced to her right. Aunt Wilhern sat with such a scowl on her face that Julia was assaulted with a stab of guilt.
The joy instantly drained from the dance. Did Aunt Wilhern think Julia and Mr. Langdon were being flirtatious? He certainly never wore that smile when he danced with Phoebe. What if her aunt and uncle believed Mr. Langdon was enamored of Julia? Would her uncle cast her out of the house? Even Phoebe wouldn’t defend her when given a choice between Julia and Mr. Langdon.
Mr. Langdon danced masterfully, graceful for one so tall and broad shouldered. Julia watched his face but refused to smile back at him. She pictured him married to Phoebe, the two of them content together. If such an event took place, Julia would be practically his sister. In that event, she could speak freely with him, friend to friend, and not even her Aunt Wilhern could criticize or resent her then. That thought was not unpleasant.
But of course, the idea of his marrying Phoebe was not quite as far-fetched as it had once seemed. He did sometimes seem to show a bit of a preference for her cousin. Therefore, Julia would need to be extra careful how she conducted herself with the man. She couldn’t control the way he looked at her, however, and the way he was looking at her could very well be the reason for her aunt’s scowl.
As soon as the dance was over Julia would get well away from him. Her aunt couldn’t possibly be angry with her for simply dancing with the man. He danced with many young ladies. It wasn’t as if he had asked to dance with her a second time.
He gave her a questioning glance, and as they waited for their turn, he observed, “You don’t seem to be enjoying the dance. You are not unwell, are you?”
“Oh no, I am well. That is, I am enjoying the exercise.”
“But not the company?”
“Don’t be silly.” Julia gave him a small smile. “You are a very pleasant partner, Mr. Langdon, as you well know.”
“Were you disturbed by seeing Mr. Dinklage? Forgive me if my question is impertinent.”
Was that what he thought? “Mr. Dinklage is an acquaintance I am pleased to hear well of. As you know, he had hoped we would be more than mere acquaintances, but that is not to be, and it is just as well, as we would not have suited each other.”
“Oh no?”
“No.”
“He didn’t seem as convinced of that as you.”
“But that does not signify.” Julia lifted her chin a notch. “All has ended as it should have.”
This was somber subject matter, which was just as she could have hoped. She didn’t want her aunt to see her laughing and smiling at Mr. Langdon. Let her see them both looking rather grim.
“But poor Mr. Dinklage. How will he ever recover sufficiently to love again?”
Julia coughed to cover up the laugh that threatened to escape. Something about his tone amused Julia in a most uncompassionate manner. Oh dear. The thought of Mr. Dinklage in a decline, unable to recover for love of her, was certainly nothing to laugh about. She felt a return of her guilt when she remembered the tears that had welled up in his eyes a few moments before.
“Mr. Langdon, you are being unkind.”
“Am I? Forgive me for my insensitivity to poor Mr. Dinklage.” He made a moue of mock remorse.
Julia had to force herself to look away. He was so naughty! How could she laugh? How could she not?
The dance ended, and Mr. Langdon escorted her toward the row of dowagers where her aunt sat. Phoebe accosted him with some question while Julia excused herself and moved away.
Felicity was coming toward her, her eyes fairly sparkling.
“Felicity, what is the news I see on your face?”
Taking hold of her arm, Felicity whispered, “Mr. Edgerton and I were just having a most interesting conversation—about you.”
“Oh, Felicity, you know I cannot abide the man.”
“But he had the most complimentary things to say about you, Julia. He said you were the loveliest lady of his acquaintance and that he only wished you would deign to speak to him. He praised your intelligence, your musical talent, and your gracefulness. Perhaps you should at least dance with him.”
“Felicity,” Julia leaned close, not wishing anyone to hear her words, “My uncle has put a great deal of pressure on me to marry Mr. Edgerton. But I do not wish to marry him.”
“Because of his reputation for gaming? Perhaps that has been exaggerated.”
Julia shook her head at her friend. Felicity was too kindhearted to believe evil about someone without indisputable proof.
“Even if that were so, there is still the matter of his drinking too much. Not only that, but there is something in his eyes that I do not like. You remember what happened at the other ball, where he followed me into that room and made me uncomfortable. I cannot marry him.” Julia was careful to keep her voice down.
“Perhaps he did not intend to make you uncomfortable. But if you do not wish to marry him . . .” Felicity frowned and bit her lip. “Surely your uncle will understand and will not force you.”
“It was almost frightening, the way he accused me of being ungrateful for not marrying the man. He is very set on the idea.” Julia’s heart was starting to pound just thinking about the terrible conversation.
Felicity shook her head and continued chewing on her lip. “Do you think Mr. Edgerton is so very bad? Perhaps you should at least dance with him.”
“I would not have thought he could make you his ally so easily, Felicity. He must have sounded convincing, but I’m afraid I do not wish to be near the man. I cannot marry him, and I could never fall in love with him. You should believe me, for I know it is so.”
“I am sure you are very sensible, Julia, but he spoke of you in the most glowing terms.”
Suddenly, a young man Julia was not acquainted with came and asked Felicity for the next dance. She agreed and excused herself from Julia.
Julia was relieved to see Mr. Langdon escorting Phoebe to the dance. She only hoped Phoebe didn’t get upset over him asking Julia to dance first.
Julia stood near her aunt in an out-of-the-way spot so she could observe the guests without being obvious. Her uncle was no doubt smoking and swapping stories with the other men in another room. Her aunt sat listening to two older women, looking thoroughly bored.
Aunt Wilhern suddenly turned and caught Julia’s eye. “Julia, will you fetch me some lemonade?”
“Of course, Aunt.” Julia hurried to obey her aunt’s request, catching a glimpse of Phoebe’s radiant face as she smiled up at Mr. Langdon.
Julia hurried to the side room where the refreshment table was set up and retrieved the lemonade. As she turned to take it to her aunt, she had to stop to prevent a collision with Mr. Edgerton.
“Miss Grey,” he said in a most intimate-sounding voice. His smile was almost feline, like a cat staring at a mouse.
I am no mouse. Julia’s spine stiffened. “Excuse me, but you are blocking my way.”
“Forgive me, Miss Grey.” Still he didn’t move. “I have been hoping to speak with you.”
“I do not have the time. I must take this lemonade to my aunt. Excuse me.” Julia did her best to let her voice convey firmness while hiding the fear that rose inside.
Mr. Edgerton took hold of her arm. She couldn’t jerk away or she would spill the cup of lemonade in her hand. He leaned even closer. “I will not let you go, unless you agree to meet me in the courtyard.”
“I will not.” Julia’s voice shook. How dare he! Oh Lord, it was starting again. If he could convince her to meet him in the courtyard, he could possibly force her into a compromising situation so that she would be practically forced to marry him. Who could she turn to for help without making a scene and creating gossip?
“Unhand me this instant,” she said as quietly as she could.
“Can’t you see that I adore you? Your uncle has insisted you marry me. Will you defy him?”
“You are no gentleman!” She gla
Mr. Edgerton only gripped her arm tighter. “You should be reasonable. Nothing good can come of your resistance.”
“Mr. Edgerton, you will unhand me this moment, or I shall call my uncle to defend me.”
He let out a chuckle. “Your uncle is nowhere near. Come with me.” His voice was coaxing as he pulled on her arm, causing the lemonade in her cup to slosh, nearly spilling.
Julia had no choice; she would be forced to throw the lemonade in his face and cause a ruckus the entire party would hear of. But when she tried, his grip was too tight. She could do no more than slosh out a few drops onto the floor.
Her face burning and her breath coming in hollow gasps, Julia said, “I will never meet you, in the courtyard or anywhere else. You are a fiend, and if you do not let go—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Edgerton.” Mr. Langdon strode quickly to her side. “But you are detaining my dance partner.” Mr. Langdon gave Mr. Edgerton a withering look, his jaw twitching.
Mr. Edgerton let go of Julia’s arm. Mr. Langdon took the cup of lemonade from her hand and calmly set it on the table. He held out his arm to her and led her away from the red-faced Mr. Edgerton.
They arrived on the dance floor just as the music started, and Julia blinked the traces of tears from her eyes to see Mr. Langdon’s face. His brows were lowered and his jaw set in a rock-hard line. Then, as they began to engage in the steps of the dance, his expression softened. “Are you all right, Miss Grey?”
“Yes, I thank you.” She mustn’t think about how grateful she was to Mr. Langdon or she might cry. Instead, she concentrated on her anger and loathing for Mr. Edgerton.
A lady never showed emotion at a public gathering. How many times had she lectured Phoebe on this very matter? But Phoebe never had to worry about men like Mr. Edgerton trying to force her to meet him in the courtyard, or her father trying to force her to marry someone she could not love.