As she reached the door of the carriage, a footman stepped forward to open the door for her. He took her hand to help her in. For a moment, the footman’s face was illuminated by the carriage’s lantern. Nicholas gasped.
The Wilherns’ footman was one of the men who had attacked him and stolen the diary.
Julia collected her wrap and ended up at the carriage, hardly knowing how she got there. A footman helped her into the equipage, and Julia sat in the only available seat, next to her uncle, facing her aunt and Phoebe, who was leaning on Mrs. Wilhern’s shoulder.
Mrs. Wilhern was fanning Phoebe’s puffy face with a handkerchief. Julia’s cousin sniffed and shuddered, sniffed and shuddered, reminding Julia of a small child.
Of course Phoebe was upset. Mr. Langdon had singled Julia out, whether he’d meant to or not. He probably only did it because he could think of no other discreet way to save her from Mr. Edgerton, but they would all blame Julia for Phoebe’s upset.
Her aunt’s face was a cold mask. Julia sensed the anger and tension in her uncle’s body, even though she didn’t dare look at him. Her heart quaked within her, and she focused her eyes on the window of the carriage. How her aunt and uncle must hate her for upsetting their beloved daughter! Would they force Julia to leave immediately? Where would she go?
Perhaps they would allow her to explain. But as the carriage lurched and started slowly on its way, carting the four of them down the street, no one said a word.
What explanation could she offer? She could tell them that Mr. Edgerton had accosted her and Mr. Langdon had asked her to dance only to extricate her. But somehow, the thought of telling them of Mr. Edgerton’s untoward behavior made her even more afraid. What if her aunt and uncle didn’t care that she was frightened of Mr. Edgerton or that his behavior was indecent? They were already angry with her for not accepting his marriage proposal.
She had always tried to avoid any hint of impropriety. What good had it done her?
Julia took a deep breath to compose herself. She must conduct herself with ladylike dignity, now more than ever.
Her mind tormented her with imaginings of what her uncle would do or say when they arrived at the Wilherns’ London town house. The silence seemed to roar at her, louder with each passing moment. When they were nearly there, Mr. Wilhern cleared his throat.
“Tell me plainly, Julia. Has Mr. Langdon made an offer of marriage to you?”
“No, of course not.” Julia’s voice sounded hoarse. She struggled to say, “I have no reason to believe he has any designs of that nature . . . for me.”
She stopped to catch her breath, which had deserted her, as Phoebe looked accusingly at her from red-rimmed eyes.
Mrs. Wilhern humphed. She stroked her daughter’s head the way she usually stroked her pet pug dog’s.
Julia’s stomach sank and twisted by turns. “Phoebe, you know—”
“Quiet,” her uncle commanded gruffly. “We have arrived. Not a word in front of the servants.”
Phoebe sniffed. Her father exited the carriage and then handed Phoebe out first. Mrs. Wilhern left next, and then Julia’s uncle took her trembling hand.
“I will speak with you in my office,” he growled in her ear.
Julia walked into the house and made her way to her uncle’s office, feeling one minute as if her knees were made of wood and the next as if they had turned to jelly and would collapse beneath her.
She stood waiting for her uncle to enter. Was this how the French nobles had felt when they faced the guillotine, waiting and knowing they would be executed but not knowing how much they would feel it?
After what seemed an eternity, her uncle entered and closed the door behind him. He turned his back to her and said nothing.
“I am sorry, Uncle, for how it must have seemed, but I beg you to believe that there is no attachment between Mr. Langdon and myself. I am sure he has no intentions of marrying me. You must believe that I would never hurt Phoebe. She means everything to me.” Julia had to stop, as her tears were choking off her voice.
Still, her uncle didn’t turn around. She took out her handkerchief and tried to mop away the tears before he could see them.
“Julia,” he said in a steady voice, clasping his hands behind his back. Silence reigned for a few more moments before he turned around to face her. “I know I don’t need to remind you of where you would be if it weren’t for my taking you in.”
“No, sir, and I am most grateful to you and Aunt Wilhern. Most sincerely grateful, with all my heart.” She spoke quickly, trying to get in the words of gratitude.
“And now I will tell you something else that you already know.” His voice was cold, like a hollow drumbeat. “Phoebe wishes to marry Nicholas Langdon and says she will not be content until she does.”
He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Do I need to ask you to ensure that you not only do nothing to prevent that from happening but that you do your best, as much as it is in your power, to make certain Mr. Langdon thinks well of Phoebe?”
“No, sir. I mean, of course I want him to think well of Phoebe.”