A Spy's Devotion (17 page)

Her heart beat hard against her chest as she thought about what her aunt and uncle would do if they knew. When she and Felicity had ventured far enough away from her home, she approached a hackney coach and driver and asked him to take her to Bishopsgate Street in London’s East Side.

The driver held the door for them as they climbed inside, and then he closed them in.

“Why are we taking a hackney coach, Julia?” Felicity’s eyes were wide as they sat inside the strange coach.

“Because I’m not supposed to be going to the East Side.”

Felicity stared hard at her in the dim light of the closed vehicle.

“Aunt discovered that I had been going every Tuesday to visit the Bartholdys, and she forbid me to go again. She said it was not a respectable place for her niece to go. But I am not going to the Bartholdys’. I’m going to the Children’s Aid Mission to speak to their director about a place for Sarah. You do not mind going with me, do you?”

“Of course not. My parents are not as fastidious as your aunt.”

She only hoped Mr. Wilson would be in and she could speak with him right away. She shouldn’t even run across Mr. Langdon, since it was an hour earlier than her usual Tuesday run-ins with him. She should be able to talk with Mr. Wilson and depart again in a matter of minutes.

The hired coach smelled of stale smoke and body odor. But dwelling on the possibility of a way to help Sarah made it bearable.

“You are such a good friend to come with me,” she said to Felicity, who squeezed her hand.

The small closed carriage came to a stop. Julia didn’t wait for the driver but opened the door herself and climbed out, just as he was stepping down from his driver’s perch. They were only a hundred feet from the mission.

“Shall I come back for you, miss?” The driver tipped the brim of his hat up. Then he eyed Julia up and down.

“If you could wait for me I’ll only be a few—”

“No, miss.” He shook his head.

Julia handed him his fare for the ride there. “Could you come back in ten minutes?”

“I’ll be back in half an hour.” He nodded as if this was the time she had requested.

Julia frowned, but the man was already hopping nimbly onto his seat and setting the horses in motion again.

They walked briskly toward the narrow alley where she knew she would find the Children’s Aid Mission’s redbrick building. She stepped up to the door and knocked.

A girl of about twelve opened the door. She was wearing an apron and holding a bucket in one hand. “May I help you, miss?”

“Yes, thank you. I am looking for Mr. Wilson. Is he in?”

“Not at the moment, miss.”

Julia’s heart sank. What was she to do now? “Is there someone else I might speak with, someone in charge of the mission?”

“You mean Mr. Wilson. There’s no one else in charge.”

“Do you know when he might return?”

“No, miss. He didn’t tell me.” Her eyes suddenly brightened. “Perhaps you might speak with Mr. Langdon.”

“Good morning, Miss Grey. Miss Mayson.”

Julia spun around. She pressed her hand to her chest in surprise. “Good morning. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

She was standing so close to him she could see the thickness of his black eyelashes, the warm brown of his eyes, his perfect features, and his squared chin. There was a strange intimacy between them, as if they knew each other’s thoughts.

Was it her imagination or was he leaning toward her? His smile was truly heart-stopping as he focused solely on her. It was almost like looking into the sun—blinding and overwhelming.

Then his eyes clouded a bit as he asked, “May I be of assistance?”

“I came to speak with Mr. Wilson, but apparently he isn’t in.”

“Is it a matter you could discuss with me?”

“Oh no.” Julia had no wish to explain Sarah Peck’s situation to Mr. Langdon. “I am sorry, but I had a question that only Mr. Wilson might be able to answer.”

“I see.”

But it was clear that he did not see. After all, what business could she possibly have with his friend, the poor clergyman in charge of this charity mission? Felicity stood beside her, chewing her lip.

“Please forgive me, but . . .” Julia fought to think how to explain. “I wanted to ask Mr. Wilson about a way to help a friend.”

He gestured toward the door. “Won’t you come inside?”

Julia glanced at the open doorway. The young girl had disappeared. “No, we can’t stay.”

“Can I walk you to the Bartholdys’?”

“We’re not going there today.”

He fixed her with a penetrating gaze.

“Our hired coach won’t be coming for us for almost half an hour,” Felicity reminded Julia.

Julia winced inwardly at the confused look on Nicholas Langdon’s face. But if she could trust him with her life, perhaps she should trust him with Sarah’s secret.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nicholas couldn’t help staring at her. What strange business was this? Miss Grey was his contact with the Wilherns, risking her life to spy on her own uncle, though there could hardly be any benefit in it for herself. And now she was here, wanting to speak to John Wilson, a man she hardly knew, on behalf of a friend. What could she want with Wilson that she would not want to tell him about?

“Shall we take a walk, then, while you wait for your coach?”

Miss Grey took one of his arms and Miss Mayson took the other. As they walked along the alley toward the wider, cleaner Bishopsgate Street, she suddenly stopped and faced him.

“I have a request to make of you, Mr. Langdon.”

The back of his neck prickled as he saw desperation in her eyes. She blinked and it was gone.

“You may ask anything of me.” The polite words were what any gentleman might say to a lady in such a situation, an almost rote response. But in this case, with this particular lady, he was afraid he meant them.

“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 never 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.