Julia frowned. “It hardly matters how much hair he loses, especially since I am not to marry him in any case.”
“How can you be so dispassionate about it? Did you want to marry him?”
“I confess I had hoped to . . . for the space of five seconds. But I was never in love with him.”
“He should be heartily ashamed of himself for liking you and then running away simply because his mother disapproved.”
“He could hardly marry without her approval, Phoebe. Since his father died, his mother holds the power to disinherit him.” Although secretly Julia thought he could have stood up to his mother and eventually changed her mind. The truth was, he hadn’t wanted her enough to fight for her.
Perhaps it was ungracious of her to think so, and she would not admit these thoughts to Phoebe.
“Are you always so perfect, Julia? Do you never think of yourself above others? Do you not feel slighted by his ungentlemanly behavior?”
“It was my own fault. If anything, I have wronged him.”
Phoebe raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “How?”
Julia shook her head, remembering again how she had deliberately tried to flirt with Mr. Dinklage because of what Sarah Peck had said. “I should never have smiled so much at him and encouraged him to ask me to dance when I didn’t have a strong attraction to him. It was wrong of me, and I’m afraid I’ve hurt him worse than he has hurt me.”
“Only because you flirted with him? Julia, this is too much. How can you blame yourself? Everyone flirts. Flirting isn’t a crime.”
“But a young lady should never try to gain a man’s affections by flirting when she feels no attachment to him. It is wrong. I would not take it lightly if a lady did that to my brother, for instance.”
“But you don’t have a brother, Julia.”
“No, but if I did . . . The point is, a lady shouldn’t go around breaking hearts and treating men’s affections lightly.”
Phoebe looked up to the ceiling and sighed dramatically. She stood and walked in a circle in the space between Julia’s bed and dressing table. She continued her circular path while she talked. “You exasperate me, Julia. It’s as if you were born good, born an old woman rather than a girl.”
“That isn’t a very flattering thing to say.”
“Then admit that you enjoyed flirting with Mr. Dinklage.”
“On the contrary, I felt guilty and afraid that someone would read my thoughts and call me a hypocrite.” Or at least a flirt who was only after the wealthiest husband, as Mr. Langdon most assuredly thought. “After all the times I told you not to flirt or give attention to any man without great discretion . . . and yet there I was, flirting with a man I wasn’t even sure I would accept should he ask me to marry him.”
Phoebe laughed. “I guess you aren’t perfect after all.” She smirked, and Julia had a sudden urge to tweak her nose.
“No, Phoebe, I’m not perfect. But I suppose I can be thankful Mr. Dinklage’s mother didn’t approve of me, so that I wouldn’t have to admit to him that I don’t love him and don’t wish to marry him.”
Phoebe threw her arms around Julia. “I can’t imagine any man not falling in love with you. I’m sure I love you as much and more than I could love any sister.” She pressed her cheek against Julia’s.
Julia’s heart swelled with love for the impulsive girl. She was the one person in all the world who actually loved her.
Phoebe released her. “I must go. I am going riding with Maria Cotter and her brother in an hour.”
“Even after you called her a liar?”
“Oh, she never minds what I say. Besides, she said she would look like a ninny going riding with only her brother.”
Phoebe opened the door to find a servant in the hall, who curtsied to her and then handed Julia a letter.
“For you, miss.”
“Good-bye, Julia.” Phoebe skipped down the hall.
Julia closed the door and focused on her letter. It was from Sarah. Julia opened it and started to read.
My dear Julia,
I am getting to know my new pupils and enjoying teaching them—mostly. The boys are not very scholarly or interested in books, but one of the daughters, Catherine, is a sweet-tempered girl who likes to please me. Her brothers, however, make her cry at least once a day. They can be so trying.
Truly, I was very lonely in my first days here and missed you and Phoebe and the rest of the Wilhern household most keenly. However, my employer’s son, Mr. William, has been very attentive to me. Can you believe we are the same exact age, born on the same day? He brings me little gifts—nothing that I shouldn’t accept, lest you scold me, dear Julia—a flower from the garden or some printed papers. He is home from school and hopes to become a barrister in a year or two. I’ve never met anyone so humble and sweet. He doesn’t mind that I am a governess. He seems to enjoy my company and seeks me out when I’m in the garden taking my walk in the mornings. I must confess, I look forward to our conversations more than anything, and I’m certain my life would be one long drudgery if not for Mr. William. Therefore, you mustn’t scold me, Julia. I just cannot do without this innocent distraction, for it is completely innocent.
And now I am most anxious to hear how things stand between you and Mr. Dinklage. It is my greatest wish to receive a letter from you saying that you have been able to engage Mr. Dinklage’s affections, and he yours, and you are to be married as soon as the banns have been read.
God bless you, Julia, for your friendship to me.
Yours devotedly,
Sarah Peck
“Oh, Sarah.” That her friend could be so imprudent as to form an attachment to her employer’s son. She must write immediately and put her friend on her guard.
But perhaps the man did have feelings for Sarah, and perhaps those feelings would translate into a proposal of marriage. It wasn’t completely unheard of. Although Julia couldn’t remember a single instance in which a gentleman’s son had married a governess. All the stories she could remember had ended in the ruination of the governess’s reputation. Story after story crossed her mind of a governess who had fallen for the charm of her employer’s son—or some other gentleman—who had then taken advantage of her and left her heartbroken and ruined.
If Sarah thought being a governess was bad, how much worse off would she be once her character was defamed to the point that she would no longer be accepted in a respectable home?
But Julia was thinking too far ahead. Sarah surely wouldn’t do anything so imprudent. If the man didn’t have honorable intentions toward her, she would not fall for his trickeries. Sarah was a morally upright girl.
Still, her letter gave Julia enough alarm that she vowed to, as kindly and gently as she could, write a letter that would warn Sarah of the dangers of being too familiar with her employers’ son. It was worth the risk of straining their friendship.
Julia turned back to the letter she had already started, dipped her quill in her ink pot, and prayed her words would be as well received as they were meant.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Season was well underway. Phoebe had been despondent the past few days as Mr. Langdon had not been amongst the guests at the last two balls they’d attended. Had he returned to his regiment in the Peninsula?
The next Tuesday, Julia scanned the street for Mr. Langdon’s familiar face as she and Miss Appleby, Felicity’s spinster aunt, who was taking Felicity’s place as her visiting companion, made their way down Bishopsgate Street to visit the Bartholdys. She wasn’t hoping to see Mr. Langdon, precisely. She was only curious, for Phoebe’s sake, and wanted to find out if he had quitted London or would be turning up at the next ball. But did this explain the way her heart fluttered when she saw a hat ahead that looked like Mr. Langdon’s? The way she held her breath until she saw it wasn’t him after all?
It didn’t mean anything. Why would she want to see a man who had such a penchant for teasing her, especially about Mr. Dinklage? Certainly Mr. Langdon
had learned by now that Mr. Dinklage had thrown her over because of his mother’s disapproval, and that Mrs. Dinklage had sent him away for the rest of the Season to keep him safe from her.
Safe from me. How ludicrous. But if he married Julia and was cast off by his mother, she would settle the estate upon his younger brother, and he who had been destined for wealth would forever be poor—because of her.
She’d never truly wanted him. So why had she flirted with him?
“Believe me, Mr. Dinklage,” Julia muttered under her breath, “you are safe.”
“Did you say something, Julia?” Miss Appleby asked.
“No, I was only . . . no.”
“You seem very preoccupied lately. Are you sure all is well?”
“Oh yes, very well, Miss Appleby. And you? How are your new spectacles working for you?”
“Very well. I can read much faster now.”
Julia nodded, her mind going back to Mr. Dinklage and why she had flirted with him.
It was because she was afraid. She wanted security, respectability, and safety from poverty. So how could she blame him for wanting the same things, things only the retaining of his wealth could give him? No, she did not blame him.
“Oh, Mr. Langdon,” Miss Appleby cried.
Julia drew in a quick breath as she looked up into Mr. Langdon’s dark eyes.
“Miss Appleby. Miss Grey. Forgive me for startling you.” Though Julia noted that the way the corners of his mouth quirked upward did not indicate remorse.
“How strange that we should meet you here again, Mr. Langdon. Do you have, er, business in this part of town?” Perhaps her question was impertinent, but Julia hoped he would tell what he did there.
“I do, Miss Grey.” He smiled.
When it became clear that he wouldn’t say anything more, she said, “But you will not tell us what that business is.”
“I think it best that I not. Perhaps someday . . . perhaps.”
She would not let her mind speculate on what he meant by that.
Ahead of them on the street, a commotion seemed to be moving their way. Julia had been warned by the coachman that an unruly mob could crush and maltreat her if she went down this street unescorted, but nothing of the sort had ever come close to happening. But as the noise increased, three men emerged into view, all of them holding on to each other, stumbling, and singing a bawdy drinking song in loud, slurred voices.
Mr. Langdon tightened his grip on her elbow. The three men were almost upon them, but because of the number of people surrounding them, there was nowhere to go to get out of their way. One and then another of the men focused his bloodshot eyes on Julia and Miss Appleby, the only well-dressed young ladies on the street, leering grins spreading over their faces. The man in the lead licked his lips.
Mr. Langdon stepped in front of Julia and Miss Appleby, who began making mewling sounds and muttering, “Oh dear, oh dear. Heaven help us.”
“Well, look ’ere, me lads,” one of the men said. “There be ladies in our midst.” He peered around Mr. Langdon’s shoulder at Julia.
“Move along, gents,” Mr. Langdon said in a friendly voice. “My sisters and I need to pass.”
Julia forgave him the lie and even silently blessed him for it, under the circumstances.
The inebriated man’s saggy jowls drew up in a face-splitting grin. “A real gentleman it is, bless me soul. What say you, lads? Should we let ’im and ’is sisters pass?”
The strong smell of spirits invaded Julia’s nostrils, and she covered her nose with her gloved hand.
“P’raps they that come this way should pay a toll to them what lives ’ere,” the man’s companion added, swaying precariously and lolling against the other man’s shoulder.
“Move along, and step aside for the ladies.” Mr. Langdon’s voice sounded different, firm, with an edge of warning.
The supposed leader of the three inebriated men glanced to the left and right at his friends. “I s’pose this ’ere gentleman thinks ’e can best the three of us. Shall we show ’im what ’earty fellows we be?”
“Aye, aye!” they roared.
The man in the lead held up his fist and took a swing in their direction.
Mr. Langdon leaned away from the drunken man, who missed his mark entirely. The would-be assailant was thrown off balance by his exaggerated swing and began to stumble to one side. His openmouthed friends caught his arms to keep him from sprawling to the street.
The crowd backed away to avoid the potential brawl, and Mr. Langdon gracefully sidestepped the men and ushered Julia and Miss Appleby along in front of him.
Once they were past them, Mr. Langdon turned to tip his hat at the ragged accosters.
“Excuse us, gentlemen.”
The three men gaped stupidly at them. Mr. Langdon, Julia, and Miss Appleby walked briskly. Julia glanced backward, but the men were moving along down the opposite way.
“Thank you, Mr. Langdon.”
“Oh yes, you quite saved us, Mr. Langdon. I was so frightened, I nearly fainted. We are so obliged to you.” Miss Appleby pressed a hand to her throat.
“Think nothing of it, ladies.”
A warmth spread over Julia at the sound of his voice and the smile on his lips. Other men might have refused to speak to the drunken men and forced their way past them. Some might have yelled for the nearest constable and made an even bigger commotion. Others might have physically beaten the weaker, inebriated men and left them bleeding in the street. No one could have faulted these actions. But Mr. Langdon had left the ragged men their dignity—what little they could claim—while protecting her and Miss Appleby quite gallantly.
There was no look of haughty pride on his face, only a calm confidence.
But why was he again strolling through this part of town? Julia had heard it whispered that men sometimes came to the East Side of town for licentious activities. The question remained: What was he doing here?
There seemed only one way to find out; she would have to follow him.
“I do believe we have arrived at your destination, ladies. I shall return to escort you back to your coachman in half an hour.”
“Oh no, that won’t be neces—”
“I must insist, I’m afraid, after our little incident a moment ago. And so I shall return.” He tipped his hat to Julia and then waited for her to ring the bell at the Bartholdys’. She did so and then smiled and nodded farewell to Mr. Langdon when the servant let her inside.
As soon as the servant closed the door, Julia impulsively whispered to Miss Appleby, “Please tell Monsieur and Madame that I shall return in a few minutes.”
Before Miss Appleby could protest, Julia quickly let herself back out the door just in time to see Mr. Langdon turn the corner to the right. She followed after him, hurrying quietly to the corner, peeking around it, and then scurrying after him while keeping her distance.
What would she tell him if he caught her? She could tell him the Bartholdys sent her on an errand. But no, she couldn’t tell him a blatant lie.
He walked to the next corner and turned right again. A brick building was straight ahead. It looked to be an old residence, its façade crumbling. A sign over the door read CHILDREN’S AID MISSION. Mr. Langdon strode up to the door, opened it, and went inside.
Children’s Aid Mission? What was Mr. Langdon doing at a charity mission for children? She could hardly imagine.
“Miss Julia!”
Julia spun around to see Henry Lee at her side. She pressed her hand against her chest to keep her pounding heart from running away as her face heated guiltily.
“Henry. You startled me.”
“I was on my way to the mission. I come here every day.”
“And Mr. Langdon? Does he come here every Tuesday?”
“Course. Mr. Langdon comes to play with us lads. He is a most excellent ball player. Have you come to play tea party with the girls?”
“I’m afraid not, Henry.”
She glanced up to make sure
Mr. Langdon wasn’t watching her. She didn’t see him anywhere, so she turned her attention back to the little boy. He had such large brown eyes. Even with one tooth missing in front, and his clothing worn and faded, he was an adorable child.
“Henry, why does Mr. Langdon come here to the mission? I don’t quite understand . . .”
“He comes to play ball with us, as I said, miss.” Henry looked quizzically at her, cocking his head to one side and then nodding like a wise old man, as if a new thought had come to him. “Now you say it, I do think Mr. Langdon and Mr. Wilson, the parson who runs the mission, are old chums. Mr. Langdon wants to help his friend, I s’pose, and he likes playing with us, so he comes here to the mission. He gives us a few coins sometimes too. He’s a good bloke, Miss Julia.”
Julia swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and hurried to say, “Oh, I’m sure he likes playing with you very much, Henry. You are a fine lad, to be sure.”
“Miss Grey.”
Julia jumped and whirled around. Mr. Langdon stood just behind her, an accusatory half frown on his lips.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Though Mr. Langdon frowned, a glint of humor sparkled in his eye. A red-haired gentleman stood beside him.
“I was—” Julia tried to catch her breath. “I was talking with Henry, but I must be going back to the Bartholdys’—”
“Miss Grey, may I introduce my friend and the director of the Children’s Aid Mission, Mr. John Wilson.” Mr. Langdon spoke the words stiffly, as though suppressing his true thoughts.
Julia forced herself to be composed and nodded, meeting Mr. Wilson’s clear blue eyes. “How do you do?”
Mr. Wilson bowed. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Grey.” Amusement and surprise flickered over his boyish face. “I shall leave you two to converse.” He looked down at Henry. “Shall we see what mischief the other children are getting into?”
Henry nodded and took Mr. Wilson’s hand as they walked toward the redbrick building.
Julia felt her face tingling as she delayed meeting Mr. Langdon’s gaze for as long as possible.
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