“Who is it?” came the muffled voice from inside, and Nicholas knew it as Miss Grey’s.
Edgerton didn’t say anything, only knocked again. Nicholas surged forward and Edgerton swiveled to face him and held up his hands. “What—?”
“Stay away from Miss Grey.”
Edgerton glared at him. “What gives you the right?”
“Because I know what you and Wilhern did. Do you wish me to blacken your name even more than you have done yourself? Stay. Away. From Miss Grey.” Nicholas leaned menacingly toward him.
Edgerton backed away, still holding his hands up as if to ward off a blow. “Very well, very well. I’m staying away.” He continued to back away and finally said, “May I leave now?” He gestured toward the stairs, which were behind Nicholas.
Nicholas stepped aside to let him pass and then watched him go all the way down and out of sight. Finally, when he could no longer hear Edgerton’s steps and all was quiet, Nicholas stepped up to her door.
“Miss Grey?” he called softly. “Are you there?”
“Yes, I am here. Thank you for chasing him away.”
“You are most welcome.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but it was hard to speak when he could not even see her, and when others might be coming up or going down the stairs at any moment and hear them.
He pressed his forehead against the door, imagining her on the other side. “Will you come to the ball tonight?”
“I cannot.”
“You will be my special guest. I will make sure no harm comes to you.” He pressed his palm against the door and closed his eyes. Please say yes. He imagined that he was pressing her warm hand instead of the cold wooden door, imagined her eyes sparkling back at him. It was agony to be so close to her and yet not be able to see or touch her.
He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
Julia approached the door, wishing she could open it, thinking of him on the other side. But as the governess, it would be improper to be seen talking to Mr. Langdon in the doorway of her bedroom. She pressed her hand against its hard surface, longing to be closer to him. “I do not believe Mrs. Atherton will want me at the ball.”
“I will get permission from Mrs. Atherton.”
How could she explain? Your former fiancée, Mrs. Tromburg, would only find some way to humiliate me. Besides, he would be ridiculed for dancing with her.
She swallowed and said, “I must leave soon. I have a new position.”
“Come with me now, to the garden.” There was an edge to his voice. “I need to speak to you.”
“I will be there in five minutes.”
“I’ll wait for you at the north side of the hedge.” His voice sounded eager and oh so dear.
Julia quickly washed her face, put on her bombazine spencer, and then grabbed her bonnet. Taking a quick look, the mirror showed a pale, wide-eyed girl. “Give me strength, Lord. No matter what happens.” Tying her bonnet under her chin, she hurried from the room, down the stairs, and out the back door.
Julia walked toward the north side of the hedge. She kept her head down to avoid the strong wind that was forcing her eyes to water. As she rounded the end of the tall hedgerow, she glanced up, expecting to see Mr. Langdon alone. Instead, she saw Mrs. Tromburg standing in front of him. The two of them were talking, their faces close together.
Julia’s stomach churned and her cheeks burned. Had he summoned her here to see this?
Just then, Mrs. Tromburg stood on tiptoe, her hand reaching up as if to caress Mr. Langdon’s face.
Mr. Langdon stepped away from her, and his eyes fell on Julia.
Mrs. Tromburg turned around, also catching sight of Julia, and smiled her widest smile. “If it isn’t the governess!” she called out.
Julia was an imbecile to believe Mr. Langdon might care for her, might even ask her to marry him. Julia turned and hurried back toward the house.
Nicholas took a step toward Miss Grey, about to call out to her, when Henrietta caught his arm.
“What do you want with her?” She gripped his arm tighter. “Don’t be a fool, Nicholas. Marry me and I will make you happy, I swear.”
He looked down at Henrietta, really looked at her. Was she mad to offer him marriage? Her words repulsed him, but at the same time, the desperation on her face evoked pity. She had little to live on now that her husband had died. She must be frantic to find another husband.
“I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.”
“What will become of me? Surely there is still some love for me in your heart.”
She lifted her hand toward his chest, but he sidestepped out of her reach.
“I do not love you. I’m sorry.” He started walking toward the house. Did he still have time to catch Miss Grey?
“I don’t believe you,” she called after him.