She didn’t feel anything for Mr. Dinklage. Was she a fool? But she knew she had done the right thing. She was proud of herself for standing up to the woman, and Leorah would be proud of her too. Perhaps now Mr. Langdon would stop teasing her about Mr. Dinklage.
She didn’t like hurting Mr. Dinklage, and it made her remember how Sarah had said it would be better to marry any available respectable man rather than become a governess. She had certainly destroyed the possibility of gaining Mrs. Dinklage’s approval. If she didn’t marry Mr. Dinklage, what other choice did she have, besides Mr. Edgerton? There were no other men offering for her hand. But then, perhaps Phoebe was nowhere near marriage either. If she could have a few more Seasons, Julia might meet another such Mr. Dinklage, but someone who would inspire her affection and regard, someone who was free to marry her.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” Julia asked Felicity.
“No one asked me. Perhaps one of your admirers will ask me.”
Julia frowned as she sipped her lemonade. “What admirers?”
Felicity used her fingers to tick them off. “Mr. Dinklage, Mr. Edgerton, Mr. Langdon—”
“Sh! Don’t even say such a thing,” Julia whispered. “He isn’t interested in me. If he were, he’d dance with me twice instead of only once.”
They both smirked.
“Here comes one of them.” The smile disappeared from Felicity’s face. “Mr. Edgerton.”
Julia clenched her teeth. She would not stand up with the man. She didn’t care if she had to be uncivil to him.
“Miss Mayson. Miss Grey.” He nodded to each of them and then flashed his even white teeth at Julia.
“Mr. Edgerton.” Felicity greeted him, but Julia remained silent. An astute man might understand the hint, but Mr. Edgerton turned to Julia.
“Miss Grey, will you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me?”
“I do not wish to dance at the moment. You will excuse me.”
He stared at her, his small eyes narrowing slightly. “I hope you are not unwell, Miss Grey.”
“I am well. I simply do not wish to dance.” I wish to talk to my friend Felicity and not to you.
A flash of something unexpected, something like desperation mixed with longing, crossed his face. He turned to Felicity. “Will you do me the honor, Miss Mayson, of dancing with me?”
Hesitating, looking at Julia, Felicity agreed. When Mr. Edgerton turned, she gave Julia an apologetic look.
Julia smiled and nodded—and was left alone to contemplate her future.
Julia had received her first letter from Sarah Peck. She had described her new employers as “cold and contemptuous,” her pupils as “naughty and spoiled,” but the oldest son, she said, was “handsome and congenial.”
Not too congenial, I hope.
Was that to be Julia’s future? Spending her spare time exchanging letters with Sarah Peck about the dangers of employers’ older sons becoming too familiar?
“Mr. Dinklage is gone.” Phoebe closed the door behind her as she entered Julia’s room, where Julia sat at her tiny desk in front of the window, writing to Sarah Peck.
“Gone? Gone where?” Julia put down her pen.
“To Derbyshire with his cousins. Maria Cotter says it was to get him away from you! I told her she was a liar and to keep her mouth shut.” Phoebe pulled up a stool and sat down beside Julia. “Is it true?”
Julia sighed. “I’m afraid it is, in all probability.”
“Why, Julia? You weren’t in love with him, I’m sure.”
“No, I wasn’t in love with him.”
“Was he in love with you?”
“He may have believed himself to be.”
“Julia! Why didn’t you tell me? Are you so afraid of gossiping that you won’t even tell your secrets to me? Did he ask you to marry him?”
“No, Phoebe, he did not. His mother did not approve of me, it seems.”
“The little coward. Afraid of his mother! It would have been such an advantageous marriage for you, Julia.” She stared at the wallpaper, resting her cheek in her hand. “But I must say, I can’t abide the thought of you married to him. He isn’t handsome enough for you, and he’s even losing his hair.”
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.”