“You see?” Mr. Langdon looked at his sister. “You have been a bad influence, and now Miss Grey will ride roughshod over poor—over her own husband someday.”
Of course he had been about to say “over poor Mr. Dinklage.” Julia pretended not to notice his insinuation. “I think it a very good thing for a woman to have gumption and spirit like your sister, and I will not hear a word against her.”
“Gumption and spirit, you call it? Her governess called it wild abandon and disregard for decorum.”
Leorah laughed, obviously enjoying her brother’s accusations and not the least bit repentant.
A young man was walking toward them, his eyes fixed on Leorah. Julia nodded in his direction. “I believe that gentleman wishes to speak with you.”
Leorah turned, and the man asked her to dance. She accepted and excused herself.
Mr. Langdon looked at Julia. “Would you do me the honor, Miss Grey?”
Julia nodded and let him lead her onto the floor. She would dance her one dance with Mr. Langdon and be done with it.
The dance was a reel, so they didn’t have much of an opportunity for conversation, but even when they did, they didn’t speak. Julia thought it safer not to, and Mr. Langdon didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood either—although the way he was looking at her made her feel flattered and nervous at the same time. But he did not look at her in the way of Mr. Edgerton, who made her feel exposed and uncomfortable, or Mr. Dinklage, whose expression was one of painfully repressed longing. Mr. Langdon’s look made her feel . . . pretty.
Eventually she would have to face Mr. Dinklage as well as his mother, so for now she was content to enjoy silent camaraderie with Mr. Langdon.
When the dance was over, he took her hand and led her back to where the older ladies and chaperones were seated. He stared into her eyes and said softly, “I wish you well, Miss Grey.”
“Thank you, Mr. Langdon. And I you.”
He seemed to see someone over her shoulder, and his lips quirked upward in an ironic smile. He gave a quick nod to her and turned to leave.
“Miss Grey.”
Julia turned to find Mr. Dinklage standing behind her. “Good evening, Mr. Dinklage.”
“Good evening. I wonder if you would be so good as to allow me to introduce you to my mother.”
“Of course.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he led her to where his mother was sitting. Julia’s dread increased as she drew nearer to Mrs. Dinklage, whose eyes were locked on her in a cold, disagreeable expression.
Mr. Dinklage must have been feeling the same thing Julia was, for his steps were halting and reluctant, and she wished he’d just get on with it.
“Mother, I’d like to introduce Miss Julia Grey. Miss Grey, this is my mother, Mrs. Mary Dinklage.”
“How do you do?” Julia curtsied, but the woman still looked as though she’d bitten into a walnut shell.
“So this is Julia Grey. Who was your father, Miss Grey?” She spoke the name as if it were distasteful.
“Major William Grey, Mrs. Dinklage, of the eighth Infantry. My guardian, Mr. Robert Wilhern, is married to my aunt, my father’s sister.”
The old woman’s top lip seemed to shrug but without exposing her teeth, as if her shoes were pinching her toes.
“My son says you play and sing very well.”
Julia did not comment.
“Do you prefer my son, Miss Grey?”
Julia was shocked into speechlessness by the woman’s question.
“Because my son has formed an attachment to you that I find . . . disadvantageous. My son shall inherit his family’s ancient estate. The good name of Dinklage has survived centuries, Miss Grey. Who are the Greys? The Wilherns are a fine, old family, I’ll grant you, but you have no fortune, no parentage, no—”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but if it is your wish to insult me, I would prefer you do it in private. At present I am not inclined to discuss my family with you. You will excuse me.” Julia dropped a quick curtsy and walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Julia’s knees knocked against each other as she walked. Her hands shook so violently she hid them in her skirt.
Never had Julia spoken in such a way to anyone, especially someone so much older! She could barely see where she was going as she walked away from Mr. Dinklage and his indignant mother.
She suddenly felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Felicity Mayson by her side.
“Good for you, Julia.” Felicity squeezed her arm.
“You heard? Did anyone else hear?”
“I don’t think so. But, Julia, I fear you will never be allowed to marry Mr. Dinklage now.”
What would Sarah Peck say? No doubt she would be upset that Julia had thrown away a chance to endear herself to Mr. Dinklage’s mother.
“I’m not sure any man is worth having a mother-in-law like that.”
Felicity pursed her lips in agreement as the two of them moved toward the refreshments table.