churn.
Julia turned her attention away from Mr. Langdon and Phoebe and focused on what Leorah was saying.
Leorah had such an open temperament. Already Julia felt at ease with her, as if she could trust her. On a night when she had learned she couldn’t even trust her own aunt to care about her and be discreet, it was comforting to make a new friend.
Leorah must have been feeling something of the same, for she suddenly clasped Julia’s hand and squeezed it. “I like you, Julia.”
Julia stared into Leorah’s smiling face, startled at the girl’s frank confession.
“You strike me as a sensible person, and sweet too. I shall visit you tomorrow, and we shall talk of tonight’s ball.”
“I would like that very much.” Julia looked into Leorah’s eyes and believed she saw that tomboy Mr. Langdon had spoken of, hidden behind a forced decorum. She only hoped Phoebe would not become jealous of her new friendship with Mr. Langdon’s sister.
Nicholas had not been afforded a chance to ask Miss Grey any questions about her uncle—and he had not been inclined to, after the cruel way her aunt had spoken about her, and so publicly. But in dancing with Miss Wilhern, he planned to take advantage of the opportunity.
During a break in the dance, he asked Miss Wilhern, “Your father’s estate is in Warwickshire, I believe. Is it very cold there this time of year?” It was an inane question, but he hoped it would lead nicely to the next one.
“Oh no, it is not so very cold in Warwickshire, but the roads are deplorable after the winter rains.” She talked on while they waited for their turn in the round.
“The name Wilhern is of French origin, is it?” he asked when he finally got a chance.
“No, but my father does have some family from France. I’m afraid that branch of the family were all guillotined during Robespierre’s Reign of Terror.”
“How unfortunate.”
“My father, at one time, was negotiating with various political leaders to get the lands returned to him, at least some of them, as he is the nearest surviving relative. But I haven’t heard him speak of it for quite some time—at least a year.”
“That is very interesting.” Indeed, most interesting. He hadn’t had to try very hard at all to find out what he wanted to know. But now that he had the information he wanted, he changed the topic of conversation, asking her favorite thing about London in the spring. It was all the encouragement she needed to talk on and on about parties and balls and shopping for new gowns.
He had probably shown too much interest in her—and he had been so careful not to show undue interest in any young lady—but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to discover if her father had been the man behind his attack and the theft of the diary, or at least if he had a motive for betraying his country.
The code-breaking experts at the War Office had rather quickly deciphered the message of the diary after Nicholas had returned with the copy. The diary actually contained information about a plot to assassinate General Wellington and throw the British army into confusion, allowing Napoleon to sweep in and defeat them.
And now to find out that Robert Wilhern did indeed have a motive for helping the French—the recovery of his family’s ancestral property.
This sort of work was much more enjoyable than trekking all over the Peninsula and getting shot. He could actually make a difference in this war—although he did feel more than a twinge of guilt for paying undue attention to Miss Wilhern in order to possibly uncover her father’s traitorous activities. But surely his duplicity and ungentlemanly behavior was justified, since the fate of General Wellington, the army, and the country itself was at stake.
He even hoped Mr. Wilhern was the traitor he was looking for after hearing what Mrs. Wilhern had said about Miss Grey. The poor girl had turned white with embarrassment. Her aunt should have been protecting her instead
Julia turned her attention away from Mr. Langdon and Phoebe and focused on what Leorah was saying.
Leorah had such an open temperament. Already Julia felt at ease with her, as if she could trust her. On a night when she had learned she couldn’t even trust her own aunt to care about her and be discreet, it was comforting to make a new friend.
Leorah must have been feeling something of the same, for she suddenly clasped Julia’s hand and squeezed it. “I like you, Julia.”
Julia stared into Leorah’s smiling face, startled at the girl’s frank confession.
“You strike me as a sensible person, and sweet too. I shall visit you tomorrow, and we shall talk of tonight’s ball.”
“I would like that very much.” Julia looked into Leorah’s eyes and believed she saw that tomboy Mr. Langdon had spoken of, hidden behind a forced decorum. She only hoped Phoebe would not become jealous of her new friendship with Mr. Langdon’s sister.
Nicholas had not been afforded a chance to ask Miss Grey any questions about her uncle—and he had not been inclined to, after the cruel way her aunt had spoken about her, and so publicly. But in dancing with Miss Wilhern, he planned to take advantage of the opportunity.
During a break in the dance, he asked Miss Wilhern, “Your father’s estate is in Warwickshire, I believe. Is it very cold there this time of year?” It was an inane question, but he hoped it would lead nicely to the next one.
“Oh no, it is not so very cold in Warwickshire, but the roads are deplorable after the winter rains.” She talked on while they waited for their turn in the round.
“The name Wilhern is of French origin, is it?” he asked when he finally got a chance.
“No, but my father does have some family from France. I’m afraid that branch of the family were all guillotined during Robespierre’s Reign of Terror.”
“How unfortunate.”
“My father, at one time, was negotiating with various political leaders to get the lands returned to him, at least some of them, as he is the nearest surviving relative. But I haven’t heard him speak of it for quite some time—at least a year.”
“That is very interesting.” Indeed, most interesting. He hadn’t had to try very hard at all to find out what he wanted to know. But now that he had the information he wanted, he changed the topic of conversation, asking her favorite thing about London in the spring. It was all the encouragement she needed to talk on and on about parties and balls and shopping for new gowns.
He had probably shown too much interest in her—and he had been so careful not to show undue interest in any young lady—but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to discover if her father had been the man behind his attack and the theft of the diary, or at least if he had a motive for betraying his country.
The code-breaking experts at the War Office had rather quickly deciphered the message of the diary after Nicholas had returned with the copy. The diary actually contained information about a plot to assassinate General Wellington and throw the British army into confusion, allowing Napoleon to sweep in and defeat them.
And now to find out that Robert Wilhern did indeed have a motive for helping the French—the recovery of his family’s ancestral property.
This sort of work was much more enjoyable than trekking all over the Peninsula and getting shot. He could actually make a difference in this war—although he did feel more than a twinge of guilt for paying undue attention to Miss Wilhern in order to possibly uncover her father’s traitorous activities. But surely his duplicity and ungentlemanly behavior was justified, since the fate of General Wellington, the army, and the country itself was at stake.
He even hoped Mr. Wilhern was the traitor he was looking for after hearing what Mrs. Wilhern had said about Miss Grey. The poor girl had turned white with embarrassment. Her aunt should have been protecting her instead
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