A Spy's Devotion (18 page)

“I am still uncertain.”

“What are you uncertain of?” His face began to turn red. “Do you think anyone else wishes to ask for your hand? Do you have prospects I know nothing of?”

“No, of course not. There is only Mr. Edgerton. I believe if he continues to behave the gentleman, as he did at dinner two nights ago, I shall . . . I shall accept him.” Her breathlessness betrayed her nervousness at having to tell the lie.

“He is coming to speak with me in a few minutes. Would you like to sit with him for a bit, to see the fruit of his intentions and his efforts to make his behavior more pleasing?”

Nothing would be more distasteful
. “If you wish it, Uncle, of course I shall.”

Mr. Wilhern looked genuinely pleased. “After we finish our meeting, I shall take him to see you in . . . ?”

“The front drawing room.”

He nodded. “Very well, very good.”

Julia took that as her cue to leave. She turned to go, and as she did, she suddenly wanted very much to know what Mr. Edgerton and her uncle might have to talk about. How could she listen in on them without them knowing? Her eye caught on a large wardrobe near the door. If she could conceal herself inside it, she could probably hear every word they said. And then when they left to go to the front drawing room, she could step out and follow them without them seeing her and be just a few seconds behind them.

But it would only work if her uncle left the study before Edgerton came.

Julia walked down the corridor and stepped quietly into the sitting room, which was across the hall and only a few feet from her uncle’s study. Finding a book lying on a table, she picked it up and started reading.

After several minutes, she heard footsteps. Julia approached the doorway and peeked out. Her uncle was walking toward the front of the house. In a moment, she heard masculine voices.

Julia darted into the corridor and scurried in through her uncle’s study door. She opened the large wardrobe, mentally rehearsing what she would say if she were caught, and then stepped inside the piece of furniture.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Julia squatted underneath the lowest shelf, where she was forced to stand on top of stacks of papers. She balanced herself with her hands against the side and back panels. Her heart pounded and her shallow breathing made her dizzy, but she concentrated on not moving, keeping every muscle taut.
Breathe, Julia. Don’t faint.

The roaring in her ears was so loud, she wondered if she would even be able to overhear what her uncle and Hugh Edgerton were saying. She opened the door just a tiny crack and waited.

After a few moments, she heard voices.

“. . . She is softening. I think she can be persuaded.” She recognized her uncle’s voice. “Just don’t get drunk—you know she doesn’t like that. Say something flattering, and for goodness sake, smile at her and don’t look so despondent when you see her.” Her uncle went on. “She has always been a compliant girl, even timid and obedient. I was shocked when she stubbornly refused to give in. But she will accept you, I am sure. And once you are married, use a firm hand with her and she will submit to you. She has not the spirit to defy anyone.”

The roaring in Julia’s head suddenly grew too loud.
I will never marry Edgerton. Never,
she railed inwardly, her stomach churning.
Compliant. Has not the spirit to defy. Wouldn’t he be surprised?

She had to calm herself and listen for something more important.

Mr. Edgerton mumbled something that Julia didn’t quite hear. She clenched her eyes shut, focusing on easing the slight cramp in her ankle by shifting her weight to her other foot.

“Now what do you have for me?” she heard her uncle say.

“We have the final man in place,” Edgerton said.

What did he mean by that? A rustle of paper and a brief silence, as if a document had been exchanged and her uncle was looking it over.

“The four of them will need money to bribe a few officials to get them to the front lines, to Wellington,” Edgerton said.

Wellington.
“Mm, yes, I have it here. And each of them knows what to do?”

“They have their forged documents, and once the deed is done, they will scatter over the Continent, at least for a year or two.”

“Good.”

Once the deed is done.
He must mean once they assassinate Wellington. Julia had to get their names! If she could get the names of these four men and get them to Mr. Langdon and the War Office, they could capture them before they set sail, thereby foiling the plot to kill Wellington. Were they named on the paper Edgerton had given her uncle?

Julia leaned her body slightly forward, trying to see through the tiny crack in the wardrobe door. There. Her uncle was folding a piece of paper and placing it on his desk.

“There’s extra money there for their ship passage. If everything else goes as planned, it should all be over very soon, and you’ll have your coinage. Still have your eye on that estate in Warwickshire?”

A mumbled reply.

“Julia and Phoebe will want to be settled near each other. It’s a good choice.” Her uncle affably slapped Mr. Edgerton on the back. “Come. Miss Grey is waiting for you in the drawing room. Remember, smile and be pleasant.”

As the two men walked toward the door, moving out of her line of vision, Julia eyed her uncle’s desk. She waited until she could no longer hear their footsteps and then pushed the wardrobe door open. She stepped out with one foot but tripped as she tried to pull her other foot out.

The floor came rushing up, but she caught herself with her hands just before her knees hit the polished wood floor. She sprang upright.

She hurried to her uncle’s desk, her knees cramped and her ankles burning. She grasped the paper and folded it smaller. Having no reticule or even a pocket in her skirt, she stuffed it into her bodice and down the left side and then rushed out of the room to meet her uncle and Mr. Edgerton in the drawing room.

She slowed her pace. How must she look? Was her hair out of place after crouching in the wardrobe? No time to repair it. She must try to slow her breathing. She touched her hot cheek with the back of her hand, keenly aware of the paper stuffed down her bodice.

Her uncle was just walking out of the drawing room when she arrived.

“Julia, there you are. I thought you would be waiting for us.”

“Forgive me, I had to . . . retrieve something.”

“Never mind. Mr. Edgerton is here to see you.”

Julia forced a smile, but it trembled on her lips. She ducked her head demurely as Mr. Edgerton reached for her hand. Just as he kissed her gloved hand, she heard the slight rustle of the paper in her bodice.

“How nice to see you, Mr. Edgerton,” she said quickly. “I trust you are well today.”

“Yes, I am very well.” He did smile, but almost as an afterthought, no doubt remembering her uncle’s words to him. “And you, Miss Grey? Are you well?” He looked at her curiously, his forehead suddenly wrinkling as he studied her.

“Oh yes, of course, I am very well. I have had my morning walk already and feel very well. But you look as though you don’t believe me.”

“Forgive me, Miss Grey. Of course I believe you. You only look a bit . . . flushed.”

“Oh no, I am well, I assure you. I perhaps got a bit heated as I was rushing back to the drawing room just now. A lady always prefers a bit of color in her cheeks to being too pale, don’t you think?” She was coming across as almost giddy and enthusiastic—too enthusiastic.

“Indeed.” Mr. Edgerton’s smile was quite genuine now. “You look very beautiful, Miss Grey, with a bit of color in your cheeks. In fact, I don’t believe I have ever seen you looking so well.”

Or paying so much attention to you either.
But it seemed necessary to put on this show. She did not want them suspicious that she had taken the paper. But what would her uncle do when he discovered it missing? It was a terrifying thought. Perhaps she could read it quickly and deliver it back to his desk before he realized it was missing. But she had folded it two more times. He would surely notice that.

Mr. Edgerton was saying something about her playing and singing. “. . . sounded just like an angel. My mother’s very words.”

“Oh, how very kind,” Julia said, again looking down, trying to appear modest. “But you mustn’t flatter me. Phoebe does enough of that, but she is the dearest girl in the world and I could never do without her.” It was the kind of thing ladies often said to make themselves appear kind and flirtatious at the same time, but it was simply the first thing that came into Julia’s distracted mind. “I do love my cousin Phoebe. We are quite devoted to one another.”

“Yes, of course. And I . . . I do not want you to think that I . . . well, that I would not be accommodating to the two of you living near each other.”

The awkward look on his face was actually the most earnest one she had seen, and it stirred a strange mixture inside her, of pity, guilt, and horror—pity that he obviously wanted to marry her so much, which could never happen. Guilt that she was flirting with him while hoping to turn him in to the authorities for treason to the Crown. And horror at the thought of putting herself in this man’s power, of marrying a man who seemed to have no qualms about betraying his own country.

Julia did not reply, pretending to be too abashed.

Her uncle jumped in with some comments about the weather and the roads, and eventually Julia nearly forgot the paper in her bodice, though it was sticking her in the side.

The visit seemed to be winding down. Mr. Edgerton stood. “May I call for you tomorrow? I should like to take you riding in my new curricle.”

Julia hesitated. It was the last thing in the world she would want to do, but at the moment, she could hardly think past getting this note read and returned and reported to Mr. Langdon.

“If my uncle does not object, I accept.”

A smile spread over Mr. Edgerton’s face, making him look boyish—a great contrast to the fact that he was betraying king and country for money.

Now that he was leaving, Mr. Edgerton moved slowly, taking Julia’s hand and kissing it. She kept her facial expression steady so as not to cringe.

“Until tomorrow,” he said, no doubt thinking he looked and sounded gallant.

As soon as he and her uncle left the room, Julia moved to the doorway and passed out behind them. They went toward the front door and she crept back toward her uncle’s study.

She could not let him catch her in the study, so she ducked into the sitting room. Snatching the note out of her bodice, she unfolded it and quickly scanned it.

Names. She had to write these down. She scurried to the tiny desk in the corner of the room and jerked open the drawer, taking out the inkpot, pen, and a sheet of parchment. Quickly she wrote down the four names, deeming them the most important information, and then tried to quickly convey the rest of the information in the paper—mainly the ship’s name and date of departure.

Julia’s hand trembled as she folded the paper again and hid it against her skirt. She stepped back to the door and looked out. Her uncle was nowhere to be seen. But he could appear at the end of the corridor at any moment. Her heart stole her breath the way it was pumping so hard, but she dashed out into the corridor and slipped into her uncle’s study, running to the desk and laying the now wrinkled and creased paper where she had found it.

Her heart pounded even harder as she made it to the doorway. Footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor. She skittered back toward the sitting room and rushed inside.

Her uncle was coming down the corridor. Had he seen her? She couldn’t imagine he missed seeing her. She grabbed the paper she had copied the information onto and tried to fold it, crumpling it in her haste, and shoved it into her bodice. Was her uncle coming into the sitting room? Would he ask her what she was doing? Or would he go into his study and see the paper and know that she had read it?

Her stomach churned at the thought of her uncle coming and finding her here, demanding her to tell him what she had done.

What should she do? Should she calmly leave the sitting room and go up to her room? Or should she hide herself here and hope he had not seen her?

She waited, listening. Only silence filled her ears. Finally, footsteps sounded just down the corridor. Her uncle was leaving his study. Were the steps coming closer? Or moving farther away?

They were moving away. She stepped to the doorway and peeked out. Her uncle’s steps were fast. Was he angry? Did he realize someone had seen the incriminating paper?

Julia waited until he was out of sight and quickly hurried up the stairs to her room and closed the door behind her.

She placed her hand over her bodice. If she hid the paper in her room, her uncle could search and find it. But if she kept it in her bodice . . . surely he would not search her person. Her face burned as she remembered the way he had beaten his horse, the rage in his eyes. Would he look at her the same way? Would he realize she’d had just enough time to find the paper, read it, copy it, and replace it in his study? Would he be up here in her room to question her at any moment?

If only she could run and give the note to Mr. Langdon before her uncle could find it.

Not knowing what else to do, Julia threw herself across her bed and squeezed her eyes shut. “God help me,” she whispered. Who else could help her? Who could she turn to? Mr. Langdon was a respectable man. If she ran to his home right now and begged him for shelter, both their reputations would be ruined. He’d have to turn her away. His mother and sister would be horrified, and Phoebe would never forgive her.

And how would Phoebe feel when she realized Julia had been spying on her father? Her father would be tried for treason. He could be hanged. Phoebe’s future would be ruined.

Tears squeezed out the corners of her eyes. No, she could not cry. She had to get this paper to Mr. Langdon. As soon as she thought it safe, she would have to walk to the park and put it into the knothole in the oak tree.

A knock came at her door. She sat bolt upright, placing her hand over the paper in her bodice. “Yes? Come in.”

Her uncle opened the door. “Julia?”

“Yes, Uncle Wilhern?”

The look on his face was hard and suspicious, but didn’t he always look like that?

“I think you should marry Mr. Edgerton right away.”

“Right away? Oh.”

“You have no objections, do you?”

“Oh no, but when you say right away, do you mean—”

“I mean by the end of the week. He plans to get a special license.”

“The end of the week?” How could she put him off? He would become even more suspicious. “That is so soon. What will . . . what will I . . .” In her panic, tears stung her eyes.

“I wish it. It is to be on Friday. I will see to the arrangements.” His jaw was hard and his eyes black and cold.

Julia’s stomach turned inside out.

“You do not object. Good. I have made up my mind and will not change it. Friday. It is your wedding day.” He seemed to grit his teeth together. “And, Julia, if you betray me . . .”

He knew. Her cheeks tingled as the blood drained from her face. “Betray you, Uncle? Of course not. Whatever could you mean?”
God, please let me look innocent.

He stared hard at her. “Then you are willing to marry Mr. Edgerton on Friday?”

Her breath came in shallow spurts, pulsing in her lungs. “I am.” What else could she say? She had no choice but to agree. But if she agreed too readily . . . she allowed two tears to fall onto her cheeks.

At first her uncle merely stared. Finally, he said, “Think of how happy you are making my friend Mr. Edgerton.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? She let another tear fall.

“Well, then, I shall leave you. But do not forget your ride with Mr. Edgerton in the morning.”

Julia found a handkerchief on her night table and wiped her cheek.

Her uncle gave her one last penetrating look and then left the room.