Whether she was able to speak to Mr. Langdon at the ball or not, she still wanted to give him the letter. She might not be able to say what she wished to at the ball. She should deliver the letter now while no one was in the hallways.
As she entered her room, she stared down at the two letters. One of them said everything she longed to tell Mr. Langdon, the truth of her feelings and her situation. The other letter was the one polite society said she should write—if indeed she should write to Mr. Langdon at all. Which one should she give him?
Of course, the prudent Julia would give him the more formal letter. But what if she took Leorah’s advice and stopped conforming? What if she said exactly what she felt, for once? What if she followed her heart and concentrated only on obeying God’s rules, instead of society’s rules?
Julia snatched up both letters and headed back down the corridor toward Nicholas Langdon’s room. When she reached his door, she stared down at the two letters—the long one that said everything and the short one that said so little. Her hands trembled. Impulsively, she shoved the long one under his door and hurried back toward her room.
And ran right into someone.
“Miss Grey!”
“Mr. Atherton.”
He was holding her arms as she regained her balance.
“Excuse me, sir. I was on my way—”
“Julia, I have just been hoping I would find you.”
Julia stepped back, firmly pulling away from his grasp. She held back a nervous laugh.
“I must go now.” She tried to look and sound firm as she tried to step around him. He leaned to the side and prevented her.
“You do not need to go now. Stay and speak with me for a few minutes. I’ve been wanting to have a private talk with you, and Mrs. Atherton tells me you will be leaving us in the morning.” His manner was more forceful than usual, his saggy cheeks red from whatever spirits he had been drinking.
He suddenly moved in closer and ran his hand down her cheek.
Julia recoiled, stepping back. He grabbed her arm and held her fast.
“Let go of me, sir. You may not touch me.” Her voice was taut as heat rose into her face. She wrenched herself free of his grasp, but he caught hold of her other arm.
“You are just a governess,” he hissed. “How dare you defy me?”
Instinctively, Julia lifted her foot and stomped down on his, causing him to let out a tiny howl.
He loosened his grip, which was all Julia wanted, and she ran past him, up the stairs, and to her own room. She slammed the door behind her and locked it. She went and pulled on her heaviest trunk and then pushed it up to the door and sat on it.
Her hands shook like leaves in a storm, but she had escaped him. Could she risk going to the ball? What if she encountered Mr. Atherton again?
Perhaps it was best she stay in her room after all. Her heart sank. What if she never saw Nicholas Langdon again?
After the third dance, Nicholas began looking around for Edgerton. He wasn’t dancing, he wasn’t in the room with the refreshments, and he wasn’t in the drawing room playing cards. Earlier, before the first dance, Edgerton and Henrietta had been eyeing each other and talking through the first dance. He couldn’t remember seeing either of them since. He had not seen Miss Grey either.
He approached Mrs. Atherton. “A splendid ball, Mrs. Atherton.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Langdon.” She squinted at him. “It is too bad about Mrs. Tromburg.”
“Pardon me?”
“You hadn’t heard? Mrs. Tromburg’s headache forced her to take to her room. She said not to expect her to come back down tonight. It is a shame, since I was only trying to cheer her up and distract her by giving this ball for her.” She clucked her tongue.
“That is a shame.”
“And poor Mr. Edgerton also was feeling unwell. But he told me that if he is feeling better, he will certainly come down later for dinner.”
Nicholas nodded politely.
“I see you have been enjoying dancing with the young ladies. You dance so well and are a favorite, as I have often observed.”
Nicholas thanked her and managed to extricate himself rather quickly. Was Edgerton somewhere harassing Miss Grey? He went upstairs and knocked on Edgerton’s door. There was no answer. Was he with Henrietta? But he didn’t dare knock on her door.
He wanted to make sure Miss Grey was safe. He walked up another flight of stairs to her floor. All was quiet. Her door was shut. It would be improper to knock. She might think him no better than Edgerton. So he went back down to rejoin the dance.
After dancing twice more, Nicholas stood against the wall, thinking about Miss Grey. If only she had come to the ball. But he would see her in the morning. Surely he could wait.
“You look preoccupied.” Sir John Lemmick, an old friend of Nicholas’s father, came to stand beside him, holding a glass of brandy. “I’m used to seeing you dancing.”
“Only taking a rest. You should ask Lady Lemmick for a dance. I see her standing all alone over there.”
“Oh, I—”
“Father, please come and help me.” Sir Lemmick’s daughter rushed toward them, taking great gulps of air.