A Spy's Devotion (26 page)

“Oh, forgive me. I meant no harm.” She waved her hand nonchalantly.

Of course you didn’t.
“Will that be all you require?”

“One moment. Mrs. Atherton. Won’t you allow Miss Grey to join us for the dance when all your guests arrive next week?”

They both looked at Julia’s employer, who wore a smile.

“If you wish it, my dear, of course.”

“Miss Grey must miss such amusements now that she is earning her living.”

Julia gave Mrs. Tromburg a fake smile, curtsied, and left their presence. She was thankful they allowed her to leave without asking her if she would attend, for she wasn’t certain her reply would have been at all civil.

The next day, Julia received the information she’d requested from Felicity. She immediately wrote to the school, desperate as she was to escape from her present position. She felt like a rat, always hiding, working hard to teach children who had no desire to learn and then scurrying back to her room to avoid Mr. Atherton’s attention.

When the guests began arriving a week later, Julia still hadn’t received a reply from the school.

The children ran to the window as the third carriage arrived. Julia sighed. The children weren’t listening to a word she was saying, and the older ones had done almost none of the work she had given them. The arithmetic lesson she had prepared would only be an exercise in frustration. But she had an idea.

“Children, since it is such a fine day, why don’t we all put on our hats and bonnets and go out into the garden for a botany lesson?”

They turned brightened expressions toward her and cheered.

“But you mustn’t run off. You must all stay with me, and we shall collect specimens to bring back with us so we can have a scientific study of the most interesting plants and insects.”

“If I catch a lizard, can we study that?” young Timothy asked. He was one of the sweetest of the children. She only hoped his father and mother’s indifference, coupled with extravagant indulgences, wouldn’t make him as bitter and heartless as some of his older brothers and sisters.

“I don’t think you’ll find any lizards now that the weather is cooler, but if you do, yes, you may catch it and we will study it. We shall come back to the room and look for him in one of our many books.” The Athertons had spared no expense in providing the children with books on both plants and animals, full of drawings and descriptions of creatures from England and around the world.

The children rushed to find their outerwear, and Julia helped the little ones with their light jackets and bonnets. She did her best to keep them quiet as they all trooped down the servants’ back staircase to avoid the front of the house where the guests were arriving.

As they reached the ground floor and the children began running outside, a familiar voice, coming from the direction of the front door, caused Julia to pause midstep.

“Thank you, it is good to see you again as well.”

The deep, masculine voice sent a shiver across her shoulders.

Someone exclaimed, “Nicholas Langdon!” and Julia’s fears—or were they hopes?—were confirmed.

Her heart pounding, she followed the children outside, realizing the voice that had said Mr. Langdon’s name in such delighted tones was his former fiancée, Mrs. Tromburg.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Nicholas hurried up to his room where his valet, Smith, was putting away his things. He watched where Smith put the portfolio, and he picked it up and looked through it, making sure its contents were still in order. Satisfied that nothing was damaged or missing, he laid it across the desk by the window, which overlooked the gardens.

Movement outside caught his eye.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Miss Grey amongst a group of children in the garden behind the house. She was bending over a little boy’s outstretched hand, as though carefully examining something he was showing her.

His gaze followed her as she straightened and herded the children in front of her, and they all moved farther away, around the tall hedges and out of sight.

He grabbed his hat.

“Just a moment, sir.” Smith came over and adjusted Nicholas’s neckcloth. Nicholas was still wearing his coat, and he dashed out and took the back stairs two at a time. He walked out into the garden, putting on his hat as he went.

Even as Julia tried to listen to the children, keep an eye on all of them, and encourage them to find interesting leaves, flora, and fauna, her thoughts were racing.
Nicholas Langdon is here.
Certainly he couldn’t be here to see her, even though he had said he would visit. Most gentlemen wouldn’t want to speak to her now that she was a governess.

She would be expected to keep out of the way. Would he even see her? Julia had heard what Mrs. Atherton had said about wanting her out of sight, and in spite of Mrs. Tromburg saying she wanted Julia to attend the ball, she had no intention of actually attending. The woman would surely find a way to humiliate her.

“Miss Grey, look at this!” It was Timothy again. He held up his hand, and lying across his palm was a long-dead dragonfly, its wings mostly intact.

“That is a beauty, Timothy. If you like, you can put him in my bag here”—Julia held out her canvas bag—“and we will take him inside and look for him in our books.”

Timothy was still staring at the insect in his hand. After a moment he said, “May I look at him a bit longer?”

“Of course.”

Timothy was about the same age as little Henry back in London. Julia didn’t suppose she would ever see Henry or his sister again.

Hearing the rustling of dead leaves behind her, Julia turned to see which of the children was approaching her. But it wasn’t a child at all.

“Mr. Langdon.”

“Miss Grey.”

Julia felt the heat rise to her cheeks, driving away any chill from the autumn wind.
Oh God, I don’t know what to say to him.
His beautiful eyes and sun-browned skin . . . she couldn’t help remembering how close he had held her when he’d carried her to the Bartholdys’. Had that only been a few weeks ago?

“Have you been well?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve been very well.”

“All healed, then?” There was a small smile on his lips. Oh, how handsome he was. It almost pained her to look at him. Could she trust her own judgment? If so, she would say his expression was one of tenderness and concern. Her heart missed a beat.

“Yes, I thank you. And are your family all in good health?”

“Yes, thank you. My sister was happy to receive your letter. She sent a reply with me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out not one but two letters and held them out to her. “There is a second letter from your friend Sarah Peck. Mr. Wilson asked me to bring it to you.”

Julia accepted the letters, wishing it were proper to clasp the hand that held them out to her. “I am most grateful to you.” She lifted her head and let herself be captured by his dark-brown gaze.

“You remember our mutual friend, Henry Lee, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“It seems he will be attending school.”

“School! Oh, that is wonderful.” Julia clasped her hands, unable to suppress her joyful smile.

“A benefactor has paid his tuition.”

“I am so pleased. Oh, that is just what he needs. And how is his family? Are they well?”

“His mother was well, last I heard, as was his sister. I shall tell them you asked about them when next I see them.”

“Oh, thank you. I would like that very much.”

Mr. Langdon was giving her such an intimate smile that her heart fluttered, stealing her breath. She tried not to stare.

“And your friend,” he said, lowering his voice a bit, “Miss Peck is well. If you would like to send her a letter, I will be very happy to take it to Mr. Wilson, who will see that she gets it.”

“That is so kind of you. I would like that above anything.”

“Mr. Wilson has been very impressed with her industry. She has been helping tend the sick in her, ah, special school, and now that it is becoming harder for her to do that, she has been making blankets and shawls to give to the poor.”

Sweet Sarah Peck.
God was taking care of her, giving her something useful to do. What a blessing. “I am so glad. Thank you for telling me.”

“Yes, and from my knowledge of John Wilson, I am not so sure he hasn’t lost his heart to her.” He smiled and seemed to lean toward her. “He revealed to me two weeks ago that he intends to marry her.”

“Truly?” Julia’s heart lifted to the ceiling at the thought of Sarah happily married, and to a man of integrity and kindness like Mr. Wilson! “Oh, I do hope it is so. She is such a worthy girl.” She realized immediately that most people would see irony in her statement, but Nicholas Langdon did not seem to.

“And very pretty, as Mr. Wilson has told me.”

Oh, it was too wonderful to think of Sarah married and happy and taken care of.
Oh God, let it be so.

A couple that Julia did not know walked by. When they had passed, Julia took up the subject again. “Mr. Wilson and Sarah Peck were together often, did you say, at the mission?”

“Not at the mission, but when they were helping the sick in the home where Miss Peck and several other young ladies are living. He was very impressed with her willingness to help. He said her gentle nature was evident and that she is the very sort of woman he could wish for in a wife, notwithstanding the mistake she made. And the fact that she has a friend like you, Miss Grey, is also a testament to her character.”

Mr. Langdon’s head was bent toward hers, and his gaze was unwavering from her eyes. His voice was gruff, barely above a whisper. “I understand it quite well, I’m afraid. He was captivated by her sweetness and beauty. He saw his future in her eyes.”

Julia suddenly found it hard to breathe. “Sarah is a very pretty girl with a . . . a good heart. She will make him a good wife.”

Julia’s heart was full to overflowing as she looked into Mr. Langdon’s handsome, smiling face. How kind, how good, he was.
I love you, Nicholas Langdon.

“Why, Mr. Langdon! What are you doing out here?” Mrs. Tromburg rounded the end of the hedgerow. Another lady walked beside her.

Julia quickly hid her letters inside the canvas bag with the leaves and beetles the children had collected.

“Mrs. Tromburg.” Mr. Langdon acknowledged her, reluctantly it seemed—or perhaps Julia imagined it.

Mrs. Tromburg claimed his arm in a most possessive manner, as if she were entitled to have him escort her wherever she wanted to go.

One of the children was tugging on Julia’s velvet jacket, so Julia turned to Elizabeth.

“Is this a good leaf, Miss Grey?”

“Oh yes, that is a very fine leaf, Elizabeth.”

“And I found these as well.” The little girl showed her the contents of both her fists.

Behind her, Julia heard Mrs. Tromburg say, “I insist you let me show you my favorite spots in the Athertons’ gardens.” She led Mr. Langdon away.

Julia was once again alone with the children.

As soon as she got them all inside again and occupied with schoolwork, she would read her letters. And she would go over in her mind every look on Nicholas Langdon’s face, every nuance in his eyes, until . . . until she had driven herself to distraction wondering what he was thinking.

Julia and the children came back in the house and set to work—or at least, Julia set to work trying to interest the children in setting to work—finding all their various leaves and flowers in the sketchbooks and color illustrations in the children’s schoolroom. After an hour of trying to keep the children occupied with this and their other studies, during which they either ran back and forth to the window, pulled each other’s hair, or otherwise fought with and distracted each other, their nurse came in and announced they were to have a holiday from studying for the rest of the day. Their mother wanted them all to take a bath and put on their best clothes and present themselves to the guests in the evening.

The children screamed and yelled “Hooray!” until Julia’s ears rang. But she slumped in relief at being given her own holiday. She was free to go read her letters.

She grabbed them from where she had placed them on the top shelf of the bookcase and hurried to her room. Closing herself inside, she crawled into bed, feeling cozy as she opened Leorah’s letter first.

Dearest Julia,

I cannot tell you how welcome your letter was to me. Thank you for writing, even though I am normally a very bad correspondent.

I cannot fathom why my addlepated brother has allowed you to become a governess. He should have forced you to come and stay with us. I don’t know why he concerns himself so much with propriety. But I shall not pain you with any more mentions of him.

I must say that I cannot believe what your Uncle Wilhern was about. I hope you do not mind that Nicholas has told me all, for I shall never repeat it. But to resign yourself to be a governess—you are too good and too talented and too wonderful a lady to be teaching a passel of brats to read and write and embroider cushions. You are much more of a lady than I will ever be, Julia, and I do not mind telling you that I look up to you as the model of sweetness and gentility. You must come to me as soon as you get a holiday. You must spend your time with me, and if those people, the Athertons, ever treat you badly, you must come and live with me. Mother and I are quite independent, and we do as we please. Father never prevents us from getting our way. But do not worry. I don’t let it go to my head.

You are no doubt shocked at my manner of speaking, Julia, as you are so much gentler than I have ever been, but you must take my advice and speak your mind more often. It is good for the soul, I assure you, to tell people exactly what you will and will not allow.

I am not a very accomplished letter writer, as you will have guessed by now, but my point was entirely to beg you to come and let me pamper you as my own dear friend just as soon as you are able. You are expected, Julia.

Your humble friend,

Leorah Langdon