A Spy's Devotion by Melanie Dickerson
Felicity’s strawberry-blond hair perfectly suited her pale porcelain skin and green eyes. Men always took a second look at her but shied away when they learned she had no fortune. She never seemed to notice or care, and she was Julia’s favorite walking companion.
“I suppose Miss Appleby did not want to join us.”
“No, she’s already had her morning walk and was frightened by there being too many men in the streets this morning. She’s worn out from dodging their eye contact.”
“Poor Miss Appleby,” Julia said of Felicity’s shy spinster aunt. “We must be off, then. The Bartholdys will wonder why we are so late.” With that, Julia and Felicity set out for Bishopsgate Street.
While alone in the carriage, Julia quickly related to Felicity what had happened at the ball.
“Perhaps Mr. Edgerton is in love with you, Julia,” Felicity said. “I know he made you feel uncomfortable, but perhaps he does not know the right way to flirt, or he was about to ask you to marry him but you left too quickly.”
“Perhaps.” Julia hated to falsely accuse anyone.
They had a nice visit with the Bartholdys, talking nearly the entire time about music and composers, perhaps Julia’s favorite subject of conversation, and Madame Bartholdy served them her special cream cake.
When the visit was over, Julia’s driver took them back to Mayfair, dropping Felicity off at her nearby house.
Once home again, Julia took off her gloves and bonnet and started up to her room. Phoebe appeared at the top of the stairs and hurried down so quickly Julia held her breath, fearing she would miss a step in her haste and fall headlong.
“Julia, where have you been?” Without giving her time to reply, Phoebe rushed on. “You’ll never guess what Father has done. He has invited Mr. Langdon to come to dine with us in two days!”
Of course such a thing would thrill Phoebe, but why did Julia feel a sudden rush of breath into her lungs as her heart skipped a beat? She inwardly scowled and ignored her foolish reaction.
“You must help me flirt with him,” Phoebe said, not even glancing at Julia as she clasped her hands together and continued to dance around on tiptoe, too excited to be still. “You must tell him my good qualities and make me seem more genteel than I really am. If you love me, you will help me secure his affections before he must leave again for the war, for I cannot bear to think he could go away without my having made an impression on him. Please say you will help me, Julia.”
Julia looked into her cousin’s blue-gray eyes, at the frightening desperation there, and whispered, “Of course I will help you.”
What was she saying? She couldn’t make Mr. Langdon fall in love with Phoebe any more than she could control her own destiny by marrying well to escape becoming a governess. “I shall do my best to mention all your best qualities, Phoebe, but please be reasonable. If he does not fall in love with you—”
“Oh, Julia, let’s not speak of reason or realistic practicalities or anything of the sort. If I can make him fall in love with me, I shall, and if you can help me in any way, I will be grateful to you forever.” Phoebe smiled with her entire face and then giggled and hurried back up the stairs.
CHAPTER SIX
Julia dressed with care for the dinner party. She’d seen a glimpse of the guest list and Mr. Edgerton was on it.
What were Mr. Edgerton’s intentions? She would simply have to keep her distance and stay close to the rest of the party. Molly had come early to dress her and fix her hair. Julia wore a white silk dress, and Molly had decorated her hair with white ribbons and pearls. Ready before anyone else, Julia sat trying to read a book, her stomach flipping nervously every time she thought of Mr. Edgerton or Mr. Langdon, but for different reasons.
Phoebe burst into the room. “You are ready, I see.” Her countenance fell when she looked at Julia. “You look beautiful. What did Molly do to your hair?”
“She said it was something new she learned. Don’t you like it?”
Phoebe huffed. “Of course, but why did she fix your hair like that and not mine?” She pushed out her bottom lip.
“Shall I call Molly back?” Julia moved toward the bell pull.
Phoebe hesitated and then said, “No. I don’t think I could sit still another minute.” She wrung her hands and fidgeted with the lace on her dress.
“You look lovely. I’m sure you will not fail to please, but do not be so anxious.”
Phoebe laughed, a nervous sound. “That will not be so easy, since all my happiness depends on whether I can inspire Mr. Langdon’s affection for me.”
Julia could repeat her usual words for Phoebe to not place so much importance on one man whose heart she had no control over and who had not shown very particular interest in her, but she bit her lip instead. Perhaps tonight would be different. Perhaps he would fall in love with her after all.
Nicholas would be paired with Miss Phoebe Wilhern for dinner, he had no doubt. The way everyone in the room was looking at them—Mrs. Wilhern with her large, languid eyes; Mr. Wilhern’s small, foxlike eyes pinning first Miss Wilhern, and then Nicholas, with a searching look; even Miss Julia Grey, whose stiff shoulders were the only clue she was nervous, kept looking their way, hovering as if she wanted to help Miss Wilhern but was afraid to draw too near.
Miss Grey’s uncomfortable air seemed to have as much to do with Edgerton’s presence, however, as with Miss Wilhern’s unerring attention to himself. When Edgerton drew near Miss Grey to offer his arm and walk her into dinner, she turned and cringed, her eyes widening as she hesitated to take Edgerton’s proffered arm. She had no choice, however, just as Nicholas had no choice but to smile at Miss Wilhern and walk her into the dining room.
During dinner, Miss Wilhern talked nearly nonstop. Nicholas only had to glance her way and ask an occasional question to keep the conversation going. It worked out well, since his mind was more occupied with getting into Mr. Wilhern’s study and looking for the diary than with Miss Wilhern’s chatter.
“What do you do when you’re not in town?”
Miss Wilhern was staring up at him, waiting for his reply. She had been asking him about his family’s estate, Glyncove Abbey in Lincolnshire.
“I suppose I shall see little of Glyncove Abbey, now that I’m a lieutenant in the army,” he said, hoping his regret did not show on his face. “Indeed, I haven’t seen it these two years or more. But I once was fond of riding and shooting, like other young men.”
“Have you always wanted to be an officer?”
He caught Miss Grey looking his way and was captured by her blue eyes shining in the candlelight. Her eyelids fluttered as she glanced away. Edgerton leaned down, bringing his face near hers, and she ever so slightly leaned away from him.
“I did not always want to be an officer,” Nicholas admitted, turning his attention back to Miss Wilhern. “I had at one time intended to make the church my profession, but my father encouraged me to enter the army.”
“I am sure you would have made an excellent clergyman.” Miss Wilhern smiled at him. “But I must say, you look much more handsome in your uniform than you would wearing a pulpit gown.”
Miss Grey shot her cousin a disapproving look.
“I probably should not say so, but it is true.”
Nicholas couldn’t hide his amused smile. Miss Wilhern’s adoration might be gratifying in a base, shallow way, but she wouldn’t make a very sensible wife. In fact, she rather reminded him of the fiancée who had thrown him over for an older, wealthier man. Certainly he had come to realize that losing her was a blessing in disguise, but the humiliation was not something that was easy to forget.
While Miss Wilhern was distracted by Miss Grey’s look of reproof, he turned his attention to Mr. Wilhern and began a friendly conversation about shooting and other country pursuits.
“You must come to my estate after we go back to the country and shoot with me,” Mr. Wilhern told Nicholas. “I believe my pheasants rival any in Britain.”
Nicholas than
Miss Wilhern immediately claimed his attention again by exclaiming, “Oh yes! You must come to Wilhern Manor! You can shoot all you like and see our beautiful lake and gardens. I have the perfect horse for you, and we could go riding every day.”
He pretended not to think her enthusiasm unwarranted and tried to sound polite but noncommittal. “That indeed sounds pleasant.”
Soon dinner was over and the ladies adjourned, leaving the men in the dining room to smoke and drink.
A few minutes later, a footman came in with a note for Nicholas Langdon.
“Excuse me,” Nicholas said, rising from his chair and taking the note. He walked out and stuffed the folded paper in his pocket. McDowell’s signal came at just the right time.
Finding himself in a dark anteroom, he looked both ways. He didn’t see or hear anyone coming, so he slipped out and headed in the direction where he hoped he would find Mr. Wilhern’s study.
Men’s laughter sounded behind him from the dining room he had just left, the men still sitting and telling amusing stories. He came to a closed door and carefully turned the knob. There was only a slight click when the door opened. He darted inside and closed the door behind him.
His heart was beating so hard it vibrated his chest. The room was dark, but enough light was coming through the windows to help him see the outline of the furniture so he wouldn’t trip. He moved toward the desk at the other end of the room.
He bumped into a stool in front of a tall bookcase, making a slight noise as it scooted a couple of inches over the wood floor. He paused a moment and then continued to the desk. He opened the top drawer, but it was difficult to see what was inside. Thrusting his hand in, his fingers came into contact with what felt like several pens and a glass bottle of ink. He felt around some more, feeling papers. Nothing else seemed to be inside.
He closed the drawer and opened a smaller, deeper one on the right. He could see nothing in the dark drawer, but he put his hand in and encountered what felt like smooth leather. It was a book. His heart thumping harder than ever, he pulled it out and held it up to the light coming through the window.
It was similar to the stolen diary, but it was not the one.
Voices sounded from outside in the hall. One of them was a man’s voice—Mr. Wilhern’s.
His chest tightened as he dropped the book back into the drawer and closed it as quietly as possible. It gave a slight squeak. Nicholas held his breath.
Mr. Wilhern was still speaking in the corridor, just outside the study door. Should he try to hide? Or should he leave and claim that he had the wrong room, that he thought he’d been entering the retiring room? He moved carefully and silently toward the door. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere to hide. So he waited.
The voice speaking with Mr. Wilhern was Miss Grey’s. He tried to concentrate on what they were saying.
“Did you see anyone walking down this hall?” Mr. Wilhern demanded, his voice gruff.
“No, Uncle,” Miss Grey answered. “But we heard a commotion outside in the street. I hope it is not—”
A quick explosion, like a gun blast, sounded from the front of the house. Then another and another. Mr. Wilhern’s heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, growing fainter as he moved away from the door, no doubt to find out what was causing the noise.
Nicholas let out a pent-up breath of relief. That sound was McDowell setting off firecrackers in the street outside, to give Nicholas a distraction in case he needed it. But he had very nearly been too late. Did Miss Grey realize she had interrupted her uncle as he was about to come into the room and catch Nicholas going through his desk?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julia placed her hand over her heart, which was beating as fast as the firecracker explosions outside.
Her uncle’s study door was opening. She stared down the hall, straining her eyes to see who would emerge. But she already knew. Mr. Langdon had slipped into her uncle’s study as she had been coming back from her room, to which she had retired to repair a bit of lace that had come unsewn from her cuff, to rejoin the ladies in the drawing room. The sight of him sneaking into her uncle’s favorite room was so strange, she had frozen in place. After all, why was Mr. Langdon going into her uncle’s study, alone, during a party? Was he lost? But if he’d made a mistake, he would have immediately come out.
A few seconds later, her uncle had stomped down the hall, a strained expression on his face. The look made a lump come into her throat, but when he stepped toward the study door, something caused her to call out to him and stop him. She’d stammered and then asked, “Have the men already rejoined the ladies? It seems very early for that.”
She rarely made conversation with Uncle Wilhern. At first he didn’t even look at her, glancing distractedly up and down the hall. But then, he stared hard at her and asked her if she’d seen anyone walking in the hall.
Her answer had not been a lie exactly. She had not seen Mr. Langdon walking in the hall. She’d only seen a glimpse of him entering the study. She wasn’t sure what made her withhold that bit of information from her uncle, except perhaps that she didn’t want Mr. Langdon to experience her uncle’s gruffness. He could be quite impolite when he was angry. At the very least, it would have been awkward for Mr. Langdon, and something made her want to protect him.
Now he was leaving the study. She peeked at him over her shoulder as he very gently closed the study door. He turned in her direction and his eyes met hers.
He froze in midstep. His mouth opened and then closed, as if he didn’t know what to say.
“Miss Grey,” he said and then cleared his throat. “I got lost looking for the retiring room, and then I heard some loud noises from the street outside.” He closed the distance between them and smiled.
Something seemed to pass between them in that moment, as if he saw in her face that she knew he was not telling the truth. There was tension around his mouth as he stared into her eyes as if trying to delve into her thoughts, questioning whether she would reveal his secret.
“Nothing to worry about, I’m sure.” She smiled up at his handsome face, cast partially into shadow in the dark hall. “I hope it didn’t remind you . . .” She stopped herself. How ill mannered of her to bring up his injuries. But she had to finish her sentence. “Of the war.”
“Not at all.” He made a small gesture with his hand. “War memories do not plague me when I am in pleasant company.”
He smiled benignly, but a flicker of some inscrutable emotion crossed his face, and she suspected, once again, that he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her. Was he plagued with painful memories of the fighting, of getting shot and wounded, of his friends dying? How could he not be? A pang of sympathy pierced her chest.
He held out his arm to her. “I shall escort you back to the ladies.”
She took his arm, a warmth steeling over her—which caused her to remember Phoebe and how jealous she would be to know that Julia had been enjoying Mr. Langdon’s attention. Fortunately, he gave her a small bow just outside the drawing room door and left her there.
Nicholas had to be cautious not to excite Mr. Wilhern’s suspicions. When he came back in from investigating the firecrackers in the street, Mr. Wilhern’s brows were lowered and his jaw twitched. But he changed his expression as soon as someone asked him what he had found outside.
“Firecrackers. Only some mischievous lad, I suppose.”
Once, after Nicholas had been staring down at his glass and glanced up, he’d caught Wilhern giving him a hard look.
After adjourning to the drawing room to join the ladies, Edgerton went straight to Miss Grey’s side. His cheeks were flushed from too much drinking, but surely he wouldn’t harass Miss Grey with so many people around.
Nicholas would keep an eye on him and make certain.
Other than making sure Edgerton behaved himself, Nicholas had no further agenda for the evening. He could not risk looking fo
Nicholas would need to report to the War Office.
Miss Grey was leaning away from Edgerton. The man was obviously making her uncomfortable. And by the way her nose wrinkled, she could clearly smell the brandy on his breath.
During a sudden lull in the conversation, their host asked Nicholas, “How are your injuries healing?”
Almost everyone’s eyes were on him now.
“Thank you, I am improving.”
“How soon will you be returning to your regiment? The army doesn’t normally allow its soldiers to be away from service for long.”
“You are correct, sir.” He thought carefully about his answer. “I am still healing, but I’m sure to be sent back to the Peninsula soon. For tonight, it is very pleasant to be enjoying the sort of company I shall be deprived of when I am back with my troop. I had rather hoped I might hear some music.”
“Oh yes,” Miss Wilhern exclaimed. “Julia can play and the rest of us can dance.” She fastened her eyes on him.
His first thought was that Miss Grey would like to dance just as much as her cousin. At least Miss Grey sitting at the pianoforte would keep Edgerton from leaning too close to her and trying to have a private conversation with her, as he had been doing all night.
Miss Grey went to the instrument, and Nicholas could see that Miss Wilhern wished him to ask her to dance. He could hardly avoid it, so he did. The other young ladies were soon paired up, but Edgerton kept his seat—he was probably too inebriated to dance.
Nicholas danced once with each of the young ladies—all four of them—and then he sat next to Edgerton. The others soon sat as well, and someone asked Miss Grey to sing. Truly, her voice was one of the best he had ever heard.
He thought back to when she had seen him coming out of Wilhern’s study. Would she tell his secret? If Wilhern had ordered those men to steal the diary from Nicholas, the man might realize that Nicholas was looking for it. He couldn’t trust Miss Grey enough to confess what he was doing and ask her not to tell, so he simply had to hope that she wouldn’t expose him.