A Spy's Devotion (29 page)

After the third dance, Nicholas began looking around for Edgerton. He wasn’t dancing, he wasn’t in the room with the refreshments, and he wasn’t in the drawing room playing cards. Earlier, before the first dance, Edgerton and Henrietta had been eyeing each other and talking through the first dance. He couldn’t remember seeing either of them since. He had not seen Miss Grey either.

He approached Mrs. Atherton. “A splendid ball, Mrs. Atherton.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Langdon.” She squinted at him. “It is too bad about Mrs. Tromburg.”

“Pardon me?”

“You hadn’t heard? Mrs. Tromburg’s headache forced her to take to her room. She said not to expect her to come back down tonight. It is a shame, since I was only trying to cheer her up and distract her by giving this ball for her.” She clucked her tongue.

“That is a shame.”

“And poor Mr. Edgerton also was feeling unwell. But he told me that if he is feeling better, he will certainly come down later for dinner.”

Nicholas nodded politely.

“I see you have been enjoying dancing with the young ladies. You dance so well and are a favorite, as I have often observed.”

Nicholas thanked her and managed to extricate himself rather quickly. Was Edgerton somewhere harassing Miss Grey? He went upstairs and knocked on Edgerton’s door. There was no answer. Was he with Henrietta? But he didn’t dare knock on her door.

He wanted to make sure Miss Grey was safe. He walked up another flight of stairs to her floor. All was quiet. Her door was shut. It would be improper to knock. She might think him no better than Edgerton. So he went back down to rejoin the dance.

After dancing twice more, Nicholas stood against the wall, thinking about Miss Grey. If only she had come to the ball. But he would see her in the morning. Surely he could wait.

“You look preoccupied.” Sir John Lemmick, an old friend of Nicholas’s father, came to stand beside him, holding a glass of brandy. “I’m used to seeing you dancing.”

“Only taking a rest. You should ask Lady Lemmick for a dance. I see her standing all alone over there.”

“Oh, I—”

“Father, please come and help me.” Sir Lemmick’s daughter rushed toward them, taking great gulps of air.

“What is it, Maria? Is the house on fire?”

“No.” She swallowed hard. “I went up to see if I could help Henrietta. She went upstairs with a headache. But I can’t get her to answer the door, and it’s locked. Please come and help me get it open.” She had turned her pleading look on Nicholas as well.

“Shall we have the butler open her door?”

Sir Lemmick and his daughter followed Nicholas as he made his way through the crowd. He found the butler in the dining room, instructing the footmen. They explained the situation, and the butler led their procession up to Henrietta’s room. Only now more people had joined them. This could easily turn into an ugly scandal, depending on what they found in Mrs. Tromburg’s room.

Nicholas hung back, wishing he hadn’t come with them. Before they reached her door, Sir Lemmick turned around and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, my daughter and I will take care of Mrs. Tromburg, whatever her needs may be. I pray you, go back to the ball and enjoy yourselves. We shall all be down soon.”

The people slowly dispersed and went back down the stairs, and Nicholas was happy to disperse with them, just as the butler found the right key and started to open the door.

“She isn’t here,” he heard Miss Lemmick say.

“Langdon, where are you?” Sir Lemmick was squinting down the stairs, looking for him.

Nicholas stifled a groan. He wouldn’t escape so easily. “I am here.”

“Come, man. Help us look for her.”

Nicholas came back up the stairs and reluctantly stepped inside the room as Sir Lemmick and his daughter looked bewildered. He waited as they searched everywhere, even in her wardrobe.

“She simply isn’t here,” Miss Lemmick said, her eyes wide. “What shall we do? Where could she be?”

“Darling,” Sir Lemmick said, “Mrs. Tromburg is a grown woman. She . . . she can be responsible for herself. She does not need us following her around.”

“But Father! She could be sick, unable to walk. Perhaps she wandered into the garden and could not make it back to the house.”

Sir Lemmick and Nicholas exchanged glances.

“If she were sick,” Nicholas said, “she would be in her room. Therefore, she does not wish to be found.”

“Are you so suspicious? Father?”

Indecision and dread were all over Sir Lemmick’s face. “Darling, please. Listen to reason. Mr. Langdon is right.”

“Father, Mrs. Tromburg is my particular friend. You must look for her. You must help her.”

“Very well. Mr. Langdon and I will search the garden and the stable and ask the servants if they’ve seen her. Meanwhile, go back to the dance, my dear, or go to your room, but please don’t say anything to anyone. And we shall inform you as soon as we find her.”

Miss Lemmick nodded, her mouth slightly open, her expression forlorn as she headed down the hall.

Sir Lemmick gave Nicholas an apologetic look. “Forgive me, Langdon. She strong-armed me. When you have a daughter, you’ll understand.”

Nicholas tried to put on his good-natured face and nodded. He and Sir Lemmick hurried down the back stairs and searched outside. It was dark, and they called out, “Anyone here? Hallooo! Anyone?”

Soon Sir Lemmick said, “Let’s try the stable yard and ask the groomsmen.”

He and Nicholas made their way to the stable area, which was crowded with extra horses and carriages, but the extra drivers and stable boys and groomsmen were nowhere to be seen. Finally, they located a few drivers standing outside the kitchen door just as Smith, Nicholas’s valet, came toward them.

“Smith, have you seen Mrs. Tromburg?”

“Sir,” he said quietly to Nicholas, and Sir Lemmick leaned in to listen, “one of the groomsmen saw Mrs. Tromburg get in Mr. Edgerton’s carriage. A few minutes later, Mr. Edgerton left the house and got in the carriage with her and drove away. That was about an hour ago.”

Nicholas wanted to ignore the information, to go back inside and forget it.

“Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps it wasn’t Mrs. Tromburg,” Sir Lemmick offered.

“Sir, a servant also saw Mrs. Tromburg leave from the back door a few minutes before Mr. Edgerton.”

He wanted to shake Henrietta. How could she be so indiscreet, so stupid? Her reputation would be forever wrecked.

“Should we go after them and try to save Mrs. Tromburg’s reputation? For my daughter’s sake?” Sir Lemmick’s expression was pained.

“Mrs. Tromburg is a grown woman, a widow, and she knows her own mind. I refuse to chase after her. If she wants to destroy her reputation, that’s her decision.”

“Just so. Quite right.” Sir Lemmick shook his head and stared at the ground for a moment. “We shan’t breathe a word. Only, what shall I say to my daughter? This is a fine, embarrassing way . . .” Sir Lemmick’s words ended in an unintelligible mumble.

“Tell her the truth.”

“What did you say?”

“Tell her the truth: that Mrs. Tromburg sneaked away with Mr. Edgerton. Let it be a lesson to your daughter in how
not
to behave.” Nicholas stalked toward the house, the cool night air fanning his face. He went inside, thoroughly disgusted with Henrietta. She was a fool to ruin her reputation with Edgerton.

Nicholas rejoined the party as if nothing had happened, but forcing himself to be cheerful seemed impossible . . . until he thought of Julia, waiting for him in the garden in the morning.

He went through the motions of dancing with girls who smiled and prattled, went through the eating of dinner and the conversing with dinner partners, but as soon as he was able, he left the party. He found Smith talking with another valet, and they both trudged up to his room, which, with only one candle between them, was quite dark.

“Shall I light more candles for you, sir?”

“No, thank you, Smith. I only want to find my bed. But I must be up before eight in the morning.” He yawned as Smith helped him off with his boots. “If I miss my nine o’clock meeting, I shall never forgive myself.”

He lay down on the bed, groaning, and forcefully expelled the thought of Henrietta and Edgerton from his mind. Sleep soon fell over him like a warm blanket.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“Sir, wake up.”

“Is it eight already?” Nicholas sat up and rubbed his face. He had to wash and—

“Sir, you must see this.” Smith thrust a letter in front of his eyes.

He took it, his eyes immediately drawn to the signature,
Julia Grey
. He read its contents by the candle Smith held beside him and the light coming through the window. The further he read, the more his heart pounded.

“Sweet saints in heaven.” Nicholas sprang out of bed and ran to the window, flinging aside the drapes. The sun shone dimly through the clouds. “Dear Lord, what time is it?”

“Eight o’clock, sir.”

“No!” Nicholas grabbed a shirt and started dressing. “Go down and have a horse saddled and ready for me. And ask which direction the carriage went that was carrying Miss Grey.”

“Yes, sir.”

He had planned to dress carefully this morning, but now he had no thought for anything except speed. He had to catch up to Miss Grey.

Julia clutched her parents’ Bible to her chest as the carriage took her farther and farther away from Donnerly Hall and Mr. Langdon. Hadn’t he read her letter last night after the ball? Did he not want to speak to her before she left? Perhaps he had not awakened in time. Julia had delayed as long as she could, but the carriage driver seemed eager to get her on her way. No doubt the man wanted to get back to sleep off the drink he’d imbibed at the servants’ own impromptu party the night before.

Eventually she had been forced to get in and let him drive her away. Did Mr. Langdon not care? Had her letter repulsed him with its effusion of sentiment?

Surprisingly, she didn’t regret having given him the longer, more honest and direct letter. She was glad he knew how she felt about him . . . how much she loved him.

She marveled at what she had done. The old Julia would have been lightheaded and faint at the thought of writing such a letter, of flouting society’s rules and laying bare her heart. And though he may reject her love, she still did not regret what she had told him. He was a respectable man who would not take advantage of her, and she saw nothing wrong with being so straightforward, even if society strictly forbade such declarations from a woman.

To take her mind off Mr. Langdon, her aching heart, and her nervousness at the new position and school she was traveling to, Julia opened her Bible and began to read. After a few chapters, she leaned back against the seat. Since she had been so alone in the Athertons’ home, without a friend to talk to, she had formed a habit of pouring out her heart in prayer.

“I don’t know what is ahead for me, but I pray you will make me strong enough to bear it.” She missed Phoebe so much. “I still love my cousin and hope she will forgive me someday,” Julia whispered into the empty interior of the coach. “I still want her to be happy.”

And she wanted Mr. Langdon to be happy too. “Even if he doesn’t love me, even if he’s supposed to marry someone else, I still want you, God, to make him happy.”

The next moment, Julia heard fast hoofbeats that did not belong to the horses pulling her carriage. They were coming closer and seemed to be coming from behind, finally drawing alongside the carriage. A male voice shouted something, and her carriage began to slow. Then it stopped.

She looked out the window. No one was there. She reached toward the door latch. Just as she leaned her weight against the handle, the door swung open. Julia fell forward.

Hands caught her upper arms before she could fall very far, and she stared into the warm brown eyes of Nicholas Langdon.

“As I told you before,” he said, his chest rising and falling, “I must speak with you.” His jaw and chin were shaded by a day’s growth of beard, which, if possible, made him even more handsome.

The look on his face was so serious, she was suddenly terrified he was about to tell her he was marrying Mrs. Tromburg. He still held her arms so that they stood facing each other in the middle of the dusty road, closer than propriety allowed. Her heart seemed to stick in her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the carriage driver staring down at them from his seat.

“When you told me you were going to become a governess,” Mr. Langdon said, his eyes intently focused on her, “I planned to come and find you just as soon as the War Office released me. I knew they would want me to report everything that had happened, and after I was able to help them apprehend your uncle, Edgerton, and the men they were sending to kill General Wellington, I would be free to come to you. But testifying took longer than I thought, your uncle fled the country, and they wanted to give me a promotion. There were endless meetings and talk of giving me a position at the War Office. Finally, the Prince Regent asked to meet with me.”

“He did?”

“He did. And he wants to meet with you too, Julia.”

“With me? Why?”

“I believe he wants to commend you for your work in thwarting the plan to kill General Wellington. But that is not why I came to Donnerly Hall. I have something else to talk to you about.”

“Oh.” They both leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching.

“Thank you for your letter, Julia. You cannot know how happy it made me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then drew back slightly to look into her eyes again. “I love you, Julia Grey. You have no equal in character, grace, and beauty, and I am asking you to marry me. And if you will accept my proposal of marriage, I promise to do my utmost to make you happy.”

Her whole world was in the depths of his eyes. Was she dreaming? She could feel his hands holding her, see his thick black lashes and eyebrows and the black stubble on his chin and jawline, even the golden undertones in his brown eyes.

“Are you sure you want to marry a governess?”

“You will not be a governess anymore.” He leaned down, so close it was surely very improper, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Then he closed his eyes and touched his lips to hers.

Julia caught her breath at his boldness and at the brief but heart-pounding kiss.

She whispered, “The coachman is watching us.”

He did not pull away. His lips were still achingly close as he said, “You did not answer. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

His eyes focused on her lips, and he sighed. Taking her hand in his, he turned to the driver. “Pray, be so good as to drive us back to Donnerly Hall.”

He handed Julia in while he went to tie his horse to the back of the carriage.

The Bible she had just been reading lay on the seat next to her. “Thank you, God. He loves me,” she whispered. She clasped her hands to her chest and tried to say a more coherent prayer, but it was impossible.

He suddenly opened the door and sprang into the carriage beside her. He picked up her hand and squeezed it, turning his body on the narrow seat to face her.

“Is it improper for me to kiss you here in the carriage,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes, “where the coachman cannot see us?”

Of course it was improper. But she wanted more than anything for him to kiss her again.

“I suppose,” she said, her heart fluttering, unable to stop herself from staring at his lips, “it is not so improper, since we are engaged to be married.”

He gathered her in his arms. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he caressed her cheek with his thumb, sending tingling sensations all the way into her fingertips. Then he tilted her head back and kissed her lips.

The kiss was so wonderful, she was afraid it would suddenly end, that she would wake up and he would disappear, just a dream or a figment of her imagination. A few minutes ago, she was an unloved, orphaned governess who was on her way to become a teacher at a girls’ school. Now she was kissing Nicholas Langdon, the most wonderful man in the world.

He pulled away and her heart lurched. He smiled, a kind of sleepy look on his face.

“Thank you for your letter.” He drew a circle on her cheek with his thumb and then traced her eyebrow, kissing her temple. “I knew I wanted to marry you for weeks, but that letter . . . I did not see it until this morning when Smith woke me and showed it to me. When did you leave it?”

She wasn’t sure she could speak, with the way his thumb and finger kept caressing her cheek and jawline and chin, stealing her breath. She swallowed and said, “Last night.”

“It was so late and so dark when I got back to my room, Smith and I somehow missed seeing it.” He kissed her again. “I’m sorry I was not there at dawn when you left. You must have thought I didn’t care.”

“Yes.”

“Darling. Sweet. Julia.” He punctuated each word with a kiss. “I would have married you even though I didn’t have a fortune to offer you. But thank God, now I do.”

What did he mean by that? But she didn’t want to ask him to explain, not wanting him to stop kissing her to do so.

He kissed her a bit longer and then drew back a little. “Are you not curious about my fortune?”

She blinked, trying to clear the fog his kisses had created over her thoughts. “You have a fortune?”

“The Prince Regent, it seems, is very grateful for your help and mine in thwarting the plot against England’s general and military leader. He has requested Parliament and the House of Commons to reward me with the sum of thirty thousand pounds.”

“Did you say thirty thousand pounds?” Her heart leapt in her chest.

“And he has said he hopes to reward you with the same amount. But I did not want to tell you until you promised to marry me. If you knew you had a fortune of your own, you might refuse me.”

Was he making a joke?

“I should think my letter would have made it clear whom I love.” She sat up a little straighter, pulling away from him a bit.

“Indeed it did. Forgive me.” He drew her close again. “I should not tease you, but I tend to tease when I am deliriously happy.”

Julia slid her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I forgive you,” she whispered, unable to suppress a deliriously happy smile of her own.

“We shall go back and tell everyone,” he said, holding her tight, “starting with Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, that we are getting married. I shall put all your things in my carriage, and we shall set off for Glyncove Abbey immediately. I shall have the banns read as soon as possible,” he continued, “and we shall marry at Glyncove Church in four weeks.”

“Oh dear.” Julia’s heart sank.

“What is it?”

“What about Phoebe? She must hate me. What will she say when she hears we are to be married?”

“I do not think you have to worry about that.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you know how in love with you she is?”

“Not anymore. She is engaged to be married, I just learned, before I came to Donnerly Hall to find you.”

“To be married? To whom?”

“To Daniel Dinklage.”

“Oh.” Julia tried to imagine the two of them together. After all that Phoebe had said about him not being handsome enough for Julia. “How strange.”

“It seems that Phoebe made an impression on Mr. Dinklage when they met in Bath several weeks ago. Once they were both back in London, Mr. Dinklage visited Phoebe during her distress over her father’s flight from England and the accusations of his traitorous spying. Very few people did visit her, I would imagine. Dinklage’s mother died a few months ago, and he was consequently free to marry whomever he wished.”

“Oh. That is . . . good.” Phoebe would have someone to take care of her, and perhaps she had come to love him. Stranger matches were made every day. “Truthfully, I am very glad to hear that. It is very good news, is it not?” And if Phoebe was contented in her marriage, perhaps she would be able to forgive Julia . . . someday.

“It is good news. And I have been given a release from my commission in the army and will be taking a position at the War Office.”

“So you will be able to stay in London?” Her heart soared. He would not be sent back to the Peninsula to fight in the war!

“Yes. And you and I shall oversee a new project I have proposed to Wilson. We shall begin some money-making industries for the women in the East Side . . .”

Julia listened and nodded to all that he had to say, thinking how handsome he was, how warm and beautiful his eyes were, how perfect his lips looked, how good his kisses felt . . . How frivolous she was to be thinking such thoughts when he was talking of the children and their needs.

“I think that is wonderful,” Julia said. “You and Mr. Wilson will do many great things in the East Side, I have no doubt.”

He pressed his palm against her cheek, leaned forward, and covered her mouth with his.

Julia caressed his stubbly jaw with her fingertips. She was enveloped in a cloak of safety and warmth, as she stopped thinking and focused her attention on kissing him back.