She was obviously distressed, though she was biting her lip trying to hide it. Would she open her thoughts to him? He needed her to tell him if she knew anything. His heart clenched in his chest. If only he could help her, not just extract information from her.
“I have noticed the way Mr. Edgerton singles you out,” he said gently, “but I would not think your uncle would accept him for you, since Mr. Edgerton has no fortune except what he has gambled away.”
“That is what I thought as well,” she said. He had to lean down to hear her. “But my uncle believes Mr. Edgerton is coming into a large sum of money soon, and he wishes me to marry him.”
But why push her so hard to marry Edgerton? Unless her uncle owed some sort of obligation to Edgerton. And the fact that Edgerton was supposedly coming into a large sum of money convinced him—Edgerton must be in on the spying scheme with Wilhern.
“Perhaps,” she went on, her voice a bit shaky, “my uncle is trying to do what is advantageous for me. He is trying to keep me from being . . . from being a governess.” Her lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth as she blinked rapidly.
Nicholas’s chest ached at the painful sight of her trying to convince herself that her uncle was acting in her best interests, that he was pressuring her to marry Edgerton because he wanted what was best for her.
“Perhaps,” he said, trying to say it as gently as possible, “there is some other explanation for your uncle’s wishing you to marry Mr. Edgerton.”
“What do you mean?”
He had to word this very carefully. “I do not wish to malign your uncle, but is there anything, anything at all, that you have witnessed lately, anything unusual in his behavior, that might signal you to believe that he will benefit in some way from your marriage to Mr. Edgerton?”
A thought seemed to dawn on Miss Grey; recognition spread across her face, and then she frowned. “Mr. Edgerton does seem to visit my uncle a lot at odd hours. I’ve seen him coming out of my uncle’s study. Also, I overheard them once at a party talking about a diary, but I did not think—what? Is there something significant about a diary?”
“Does your uncle know you overheard him?”
“He did not see me.” Her pretty blue eyes were wide and her lips parted. She looked frightened. He wished he could assure her she had nothing to worry about, that he would protect her.
Could he trust her? Should he tell her? Her help could be extremely valuable and could save thousands of British soldiers, including General Wellington, but it would also put her in danger.
Two young ladies and a gentleman were walking toward them. At least one private coach had already passed them on the street, so he held out his arm and she took it. They began walking as if they were out for a morning stroll. Not very many people were out this early, but he did not want to start any gossip mills churning.
When they had politely nodded to the oncoming ladies and gentleman and passed them, Julia asked quietly, “Mr. Langdon, is my uncle involved in something nefarious?” She glanced up at him, and there was a determined set to her jaw. The fearful look was gone.
They had made their way to Hyde Park. A path led them along a row of trees, with the grassy open area on their other side. He wished they could sit to have this conversation, so he could look into her eyes. But they were probably less conspicuous if they kept walking.
“Miss Grey, you may not realize it, but your uncle is in so much debt, he is on the verge of losing his estate, Wilhern Manor, in Warwickshire.”
“I had noticed there seemed to be a lot of creditors calling on my uncle.”
“That could be one of the reasons . . . it appears your uncle is involved, along with Mr. Edgerton, in a crime.”
“What sort of crime?” She turned to look at him.
Surely he could trust her. Surely she would not betray him, with that sweet, innocent, slightly horrified look on her face. But was he being gullible? If she were trying to fool him, wouldn’t she have just such a look on her face? Was she acting? Or was she really as good and kind and noble as she seemed?
He remembered her kindness to Henry and the way Miss Grey’s aunt and uncle had treated her.
“If your uncle and Mr. Edgerton were involved in espionage, in the betrayal of their country and yours, would you help me?”
Her face went white as lamb’s wool.
“If your uncle is helping France in a plot to kill General Wellington, will you join in our efforts to stop him? Will you choose your loyalty to crown and country, to England’s sons fighting on foreign soil, over your loyalty to your uncle?”
She had stopped and was staring up at him, a little color already coming back into her cheeks.
“I can give you some time to think about it, but remember, many lives are at stake. Your country—”
“Yes. I will do it.”
Her blue eyes stared into his, round and wide and luminous. Her jaw was firmly set, but her lips . . . her full, perfect lips were slightly parted in an expression that matched the vulnerability in her eyes—frightened yet determined. His heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
He should not be thinking about kissing her at a moment like this.