A Spy's Devotion

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Please don’t tell anyone I was here today. It is of the utmost importance that my visit be kept strictly secret.”

  “Of course. We both know the importance of keeping secrets.”

  She nodded and looked away, as though suddenly remembering. “Yes. Yes, that is true.”

  They resumed walking and Nicholas noted the simplicity of her hair, which was thick and looked soft and silky enough to line a nest with. Looking at her profile, he could see her lashes were exquisitely long. And she had the most perfect lips—he could hardly help noticing. Best of all, she had a certain innocent sweetness in her expression, along with a determined strength he had failed to discern until recently.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you needed to speak to Wilson about? He is a good friend. I can ask him your question and tell you his answer later today.”

  “I suppose that would be all right.” She bit her bottom lip. “I suppose I may tell you, if you promise not to tell another soul.”

  “I most solemnly promise not to tell another soul. Besides John Wilson.” Curiosity was eating him up, didn’t she know? He gave her what he hoped was his most sincere expression.

  She seemed to study his face, and gradually, she softened and didn’t look quite so worried.

  “Excuse me, Julia, Mr. Langdon.” Miss Mayson moved away from them. “I want to go in this shop to look for a special sachet for my mother’s birthday. I shall return in a few moments.”

  When Miss Mayson had gone, they stood outside the shop, and Miss Grey took a deep breath and said, “I came to ask Mr. Wilson if he knows of a safe place, perhaps some type of charity mission, where a woman might live . . . if she had ruined her reputation and had nowhere else to go.” She spoke so softly, Nicholas found himself leaning down to catch her words as they walked along. But then, when what she had said sank into his consciousness, he tried not to look as surprised as he felt.

  “This young woman needs a place to go immediately, or as soon as possible.”

  She couldn’t mean herself. Could she? “Has something happened with your uncle? Is he trying to ruin you?”

  “Oh no, it isn’t for me.” Miss Grey pressed her hand against her chest and shook her head slightly. She looked him in the eye. “My friend is a kind and loving person, but she made a mistake and is desperate for somewhere to go until she can have her child. She has no relatives to turn to for help. Although it is true that once my uncle finds out what I have been doing and is brought to justice, I will not have anywhere to go either and will be in a similar predicament. But I am not speaking of myself in this instance.”

  She looked away, and he realized even more fully what he had been asking of her.

  Julia did not want Mr. Langdon to think she was asking for his pity. She knew what she was getting herself into by spying on her uncle, but she wanted to do it. It was her duty to the Crown and to her country. Besides, whether she helped spy or not, once her uncle was found out, she’d have nowhere to go and her reputation would be tainted by association.

  Julia spoke swiftly as they walked. “I was hoping that Mr. Wilson, as a clergyman and the head of a charity mission, would know of a place for my friend. But perhaps it was unfair of me to tell you, for you will wonder of whom I am speaking.”

  “No, Miss Grey.” He stopped her with a firm hand on her arm and turned to face her. “I am very glad you have told me so that I might be able to help. And as for wondering who she is . . . we all have sinned and fallen short of God’s best. I have no right to pass judgment.”

  “That is most kind of you, Mr. Langdon. Thank you. This person is in great need, and I seem to be her only friend in her desperate situation. I don’t want to see her further hurt. I am sorry I had to reveal these things to you and rely upon your secrecy, but her need is urgent and immediate.”

  “You may depend upon me to keep this information with the utmost discretion and to share it only with Mr. Wilson. And I can offer this assurance—that although I do not know the particulars, I do believe Mr. Wilson will know exactly where this young lady may find a safe place to live, at least temporarily.”

  “Oh, Mr. Langdon, you can’t know how much relief this brings.” Julia pressed her hand to her heart as such a rush of air filled her lungs that she became lightheaded. “I will write to my friend immediately. But how will you—or Mr. Wilson—get the information to me? How must I instruct my friend to act?”

  “In our usual place, of course,” Mr. Langdon said, a grave look in his eyes that caused her stomach to flutter. “I will let you know what your friend must do.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Langdon.” Tears filled Julia’s eyes, and she swallowed to force them away. “You are very kind.”

  He stared at her as if he were trying to discern something from her expression, as if he was looking right through her, into her thoughts. Though, if her aunt and uncle found out that she was helping Sarah and had defied them by coming to the East Side today, she very well could be in need of a place to live.

  Felicity exited the shop and came toward them. “They had the very thing.” She smiled, showing her perfect teeth, and held up her wrapped parcel.

  Mr. Langdon and Julia congratulated her and turned to walk back toward the place where they would meet the coach.

  Julia was staring at Mr. Langdon’s profile when she became aware of snorting horses and a carriage stopping just behind her. Turning, she saw it was the driver who had driven them there.

  “Here is our hackney.”

  “Allow me.” Mr. Langdon helped Felicity in first, then Julia, holding firmly to her hand and placing his other hand beneath her elbow. He closed the door behind her, and then, out of the window, she saw him pay the driver. As they drove away, he held her gaze with solemn eyes and a grave expression.

  Most people would think ill of her simply because she associated with and was trying to help a young woman whose morals had been compromised.

  But Nicholas Langdon was not like most people.

  Very early the next morning, Julia put on her pelisse and her largest bonnet and walked to the park. It was a damp, foggy morning, so she encountered very few people, which was good, since walking alone in London was not a proper thing for a young lady.

  She went straight to the oak tree and put her hand inside the knothole. Under the rock was a piece of paper. Julia drew it out and continued walking, hiding the paper in her palm. When she had walked several more feet, she turned and faced the trees. Julia quickly unfolded the note and read silently:

  Have your friend come with her belongings to the Children’s Aid Mission at noon on Monday. All is well and will be well.

  Julia quickly stuffed the note into her reticule, which was hanging from her wrist, and made her way toward home, her heart soaring inside her chest. Now she just had to get word to Sarah.

  As soon as Julia entered the front door, Phoebe exclaimed, “There you are! I was wondering if you’d gone for a walk.”

  “I’m surprised to see you up so early.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. You haven’t gone for a long walk, have you?” Phoebe glanced down at Julia’s shoes and then reached out and touched Julia’s cheek. “You look a bit flushed.”

  “No, I did not go far. Would you like to walk with me? We can take a turn around the square.”

  Phoebe nodded. Julia waited while Phoebe put on her gloves, bonnet, and a light spencer to guard against the morning chill. With their parasols in hand, they set out. Julia vowed to write a letter to Sarah as soon as she got home and post it that very day to make sure Sarah received the information in time.

  Julia peeked down at her reticule where she had placed Mr. Langdon’s note, which might as well be a sleeping snake. As soon as possible, she would have to burn it. If Phoebe or Mrs. Wilhern ever found out Nicholas Langdon had written her a note . . . it didn’t bear thinking of. But then, how would they know he had written the note? He had not signed it. Still, if someone recognized his handwriting or somehow guessed it, she would neve
r survive the wrath of the Wilherns.

  The next day was Sunday, and as Julia was changing after the morning church service, a knock came at her door. Molly quickly finished buttoning the back of Julia’s dress and hurried to open the door.

  Mr. Wilhern stood in the doorway. “Molly. Let Miss Grey know I wish to see her in my study as soon as she is able to come down.”

  Julia stayed in the back of the room. He glanced at her quickly before turning and walking away.

  Her heart thumped inside her. What could her uncle want? Had he discovered, somehow, that she had rifled through his desk, copied the coded message, and given it to Nicholas Langdon?

  “Shall I finish your hair, Miss Grey?” Molly asked.

  “I’ll just pin it.” But Julia’s hand shook as she lifted a pin.

  “Let me.” Molly sat her down and quickly finished pinning her hair.

  “Thank you, Molly.”

  There was nothing left to do but go downstairs and see what her uncle wanted with her.

  Her shoulders and neck ached with tension as she approached her uncle’s study. She could not go on forever before being caught, so she needed to find out something definitive, something that would help the War Office capture Uncle Wilhern and everyone else working with him, so as to thwart their evil plans.

  She entered her uncle’s study, and he stood up immediately from his desk.

  “Come here, child.”

  His brows were lowered, but he did not look especially angry. He fixed her with a penetrating stare. “Julia, you are like a daughter to me. I wish to always keep you near, and I know Mrs. Wilhern and Phoebe feel the same. And here we have a very eligible young man who wishes to marry you. He has even agreed to drink less just to please you. Surely you noticed the difference when he was here two nights ago.”

  “Yes, Uncle. I suppose he has also come into the fortune you mentioned.”

  “Very soon he will.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “It is wise of you to think of such things, my dear, as you have no fortune of your own.” He paused a moment and then continued, “Does this mean you have decided to accept Mr. Edgerton?”

  Julia swallowed. If she said no, her uncle would be furious and would possibly start making plans to send her off to work as a governess, washing his hands of her. If she said yes, it would be a lie, but it might buy her more time.

  “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.”