Julia stared up at Mr. Langdon. She could barely breathe as she made the commitment to spy against her own uncle, the man who had taken her in and given her a home when she was only an orphan. Her uncle had provided her with an education and allowed her to grow up with his own daughter. But he was a traitor.
“You believe me, then?” Mr. Langdon gazed down at her with those brown eyes.
How could she not believe him? Besides, it all made sense, even why her uncle wanted her to marry Mr. Edgerton. “If I marry Mr. Edgerton, I cannot lawfully accuse him or be a witness against my husband, and therefore I would be unlikely to implicate my uncle either.”
“That is true. You are very clever, Miss Grey.” He gave her a look of admiration. But then he sobered. “Are you afraid of your uncle? Do you think him capable of . . . harming you?”
The memory of her uncle beating his horse rose up before her, followed by the look on his face when she told him she would not marry Mr. Edgerton. “I believe he is capable, yes. But I shall not let him know I suspect anything.” She did her best to give Mr. Langdon a confident smile, but the corners of her mouth didn’t quite succeed in obeying her.
What was she getting herself into?
“So as to lessen the risk of anyone discovering our alliance, we need a way for us to exchange messages without ever encountering each other or being seen in each other’s company.”
He walked over to an old gnarled oak tree beside the patch. Its trunk was enormous. Mr. Langdon glanced all around. It was still so early that the only people around were grooms exercising the horses, and only a few of those in this one corner of the park. He stepped up to the tree, so close to it that Julia could only see what he was showing her by stepping quite close to it herself.
He stuck his hand in a knothole in the trunk of the tree and pulled out a rock about half the size of his fist.
“Whenever you need to get a message to me, put it in this hole and cover it with this rock. I shall check it every morning and every evening. This should be safer than using servants to carry our messages for us or coming to each other’s homes to deliver them.”
Julia nodded. “I always take my morning walk before any of the family is awake.”
“Perfect. Now let us go before anyone sees us.”
She took his arm and they started back through the park’s entrance, which was only a few steps away, and back onto the street.
“If you ever feel yourself to be in danger,” he said, “do send me word or come to me.”
“I shall be careful not to give my uncle cause to be suspicious of me, and in the meantime, I shall listen for any information I can discover.”
“Yes, try to intercept any messages your uncle might receive, and see if you can eavesdrop when Mr. Edgerton comes to visit your uncle. But be careful.”
Again, Mr. Langdon stopped and his intense eyes gazed down at her. The concern in them nearly stopped her heart. Did he truly care what happened to her? Did anyone care about her, orphan girl that she was? Phoebe cared, but . . . if she knew Julia was spying on her father, even Phoebe’s love would grow cold. Julia could lose everything, the only things she had—her uncle’s support, her cousin’s love, and her own good standing in society—if her uncle were to be found guilty of treason.
But how could she not give Mr. Langdon her help? How could she not do all she could for her country? If many of her countrymen’s lives depended on her, she would do whatever she had to do to save them. How could she not?
“You are not having second thoughts?” he asked as they continued walking down the street leading them back to her home as well as Felicity Mayson’s.
“No. I am willing to do what I can.”
There was a crease in his brow.
“What are you thinking?” Julia asked.
“This could be very dangerous for you. But if you find yourself in danger, you will tell me, will you not?”
“Of course.” Julia imagined her uncle’s fury if he should ever discover that she was plotting against him. Her heart skipped a beat.
“The messages you encounter will probably be in code.” Nicholas Langdon spoke quickly. “They will look like words, but the words will not make sense. Whenever possible, copy down the letters exactly and then leave the original where you found it. If you need to leave me a direct message, or I you, the War Office will be known as ‘our mutual friends.’ The traitors will be spoken of as ‘the relatives in Kent.’”
Julia imprinted this information in her mind.
“You understand?”
“Yes.”
They made their way back to Grosvenor Square and passed right by her Uncle Wilhern’s town house. As they began meeting up with other people on the street, Julia deliberately made her expression one of polite calm, even smiling at passersby. Mr. Langdon appeared perfectly calm himself as he stopped in front of Felicity Mayson’s door.
“Good day, Miss Grey.” He tipped his hat to her.