The Abandoned Bride (24 page)

“But I have never—” she began, but he cut her off by saying softly, “I know, and that is why you must.”

So there, in the midnight garden of a hotel in Paris, Julia lay her head upon the Baron Stafford’s breast, and with the steady beat of his heart against her ear, comforted like a homeless puppy with a ticking clock in its basket, she softly spoke of the events of the night that was to have been her wedding night.

But for all that it had changed her life, for all that it had so constantly shaped her every action since, it was overall a very brief tale. And when she was done, Julia stood silent, resting against Nicholas, still feeling his hand absently stroking her hair, as he had all the while that she spoke. But then she began to feel a little foolish, a bit childish, as people always do when their worst despair has abated and they become aware that they are still being comforted.

“I must find Robin,” he said at length, as though he did not know he spoke aloud, for then he dropped his mouth to her ear and whispered for her to hear, “I must find Robin. There is some misunderstanding in this. The fault is not in you, Julia. I could swear to it, but only Robin can attest to it. I must find him.” The
n
he put her away from him, but only an arm’s length away, and he still held her by both shoulders as he looked down into her face and spoke.

“It is what I set out to do, but you, you wicked creature, you made me falter in my determination. I tarried because I enjoyed your company so much I was loathe to part from you, or so I told myself. Now I think it was rather that I didn’t wish to force the final confrontation. Perhaps I wished to delay the moment of truth. So I lingered, little Circe, and you did indeed change me into a swine. For after a while I never gave a thought to ending the matter. I was so very busy thinking up ways and means to get you into my bed.

“Now I shall leave for Brussels in the morning. And I shall ask you, Julia—mind, I said ‘ask’ you—to remain here to wait for me. I shall, if I can, bring Robin back with me, and then we shall have the whole thing out in the air at last. It is time, and past it, to end this matter.”

“And then?” Julia asked.

“Why then, you shall be free. That is to say that you are free as of now, but then there will be no further constraints upon you,” he said, still holding her by her shoulders and unconsciously tightening his hands upon her even as he said “free.” So the next question came to her quite naturally.

“
And your offer?
”
she asked softly, seeing the answer in his face even in the darkness before he spoke. The bright white of his eyes was obscured for an instant as he closed his lids as though in pain.

“Forget it, Julia,” he said heavily, and then in an attempt at humor, he said as he let her shoulders go, “At least, I hope you do. Lord! What a family we are for making you offers. I should not blame you if you never wished to clap eyes upon any of us again. But please,” he said at once, as though his own words had alarmed him, “tell me. Even though I repeat, you are free, will you at least stay here and wait for me? I think it to your advantage to, Julia, for it is only Robin who can explain that night to you, and answer all of the questions that may enable you to live your life more fully and freely in future.”

When she did not answer at once, he asked again, “Julia, will you wait here for me? At the very least you must allow me to see you safely home from this adventure.”

He spoke of safety and he spoke of freedom, Julia thought as she stood chilled in the warm night air. And he did not know that she never felt safe from him while he breathed upon the earth, although she never felt safer than when she was with him. And as for freedom, she thought sadly, he had only removed her from her cage. But it hardly mattered now, since like a wily falconer, he had trained her with soft words and rewards to come to his hand whenever he put out his finger.

“I shall wait,” Julia said.

₁₄

Everywhere that he went, they wondered at why he had not yet met up with his friend. At first, he
had been amused, and then by slow degree as he had ridden from villa to village, from city to countryside, he had grown annoyed, then vexed, and then decidedly angry.

“But, old man,” Lord Blake had said in Lille, as he poured another glass of port for his unexpected overnight guest, “you only missed him by inches, I’d swear it, for no sooner did his dust die down than you appeared. Not that I’m not delighted to see you, old man, for I am, you’re like a spot of England. Tell me, how are things at home?”

“Good heavens, Nick, you would have met in the doorway had he stopped to tie his shoe!” John Taylor had said in Ghent. “Not two days past!” the Hawkinses in their ornate rented house in Bruges had marveled. “He was here yesterday, and you arrive today. Now who’s chasing whom?” Cyril Hampton, Duke of Austell, had murmured thoughtfully as he settled back in his armchair in his hotel in Brussels to interview his guest.

He had been traveling for two weeks now, and eve
r
ywhere, every weary mile he progressed, he heard of how odd it was that he had so narrowly missed encountering his good friend Sir
Oliver Sidney. But nowhere did he hear a word that could lead him to Robin, and nowhere, he heard, was Sir Sidney able to find out about his nephew’s whereabouts either. “I say,” Lord Beddoes had murmured, “Why don’t you two fellows link up? Save yourselves a deal of trouble, you know.”

“I would love to,” the baron had managed to say through his tightly clenched teeth. And so he would, he thought, although he did not think it would save Sir Sidney a whit of trouble if he did so.

This night he lay in his bed in a fine hotel in the heart of Brussels and knew that Ollie rested somewhere in the same city. But he did not believe that Robin did, no, in fact he was almost sure now that Robin did not. For he had one advantage over Ollie, and that was that once he had known Robin, and his nephew’s essential self would not have changed, no matter how time and tide had shaped his life. If Robin knew he was seeking him, nothing would keep him away. So he would make a few more searching inquiries for his nephew to be completely certain that word of his quest was known everywhere, and then he would gladly be out of this city and this country. He would leave the barren field for Ollie to winnow. Let him come up with a handful of dust for his efforts, Nicholas thought as he laced his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, to match the lungfuls of dust that I have gotten as I unwittingly followed behind him on every step, of my search.

B
ut he was weary of this place, he thought as he settled himself into bed in preparation for his now expected nightly bout of sleeplessness. And if a fellow could weary of such a beautiful city, then there must certainly be something amiss with him. And, of course, Nicholas thought wryly, there was.

For he hadn’t known such sleeplessness existed before he had met her. He hadn’t ever found exotic foreign cities a bore nor itched to be quit of them. Even in the days of his disappointment and turmoil over Ivy’s defection, he had been able to comfort himself with available females, if only for the mundane expediency of getting past the lonely midnight hours easefully into a new day. But now nothing brought him solace but the thought of her, even as the thought of her brought him only the desire to be back with her again. And that desire kept him as constant to her as though she had been at his side as a spectral presence gravely watching his every action for
eve
r
y interminable moment that they had been apart.

Grave considerations indeed, Nicholas thought as he frowned to himself and found his feather pillow grown as comfortable as a tombstone. He smiled at his own play on words and thought that she would have liked it, for her lively sense of humor was perhaps the best thing about her. That was, he corrected himself, if one forgot her sympathetic nature, her inquiring mind and high spirit and beautiful face and exquisite figure and delicious lips, and he rose from his bed and went to look out the window to see if there were any lights to see still lit at this small hour of the night.

Bedeviled as well as besotted, he thought as he stared out into the blind night. For when he thought of those soft and yielding lips, he remembered how untutored they were and how he had delighted in teaching her how to return his kiss in the way to please both herself and him. But remembering her innocence, his desire turned to despair again. Then he recalled her brief story, and that transmuted his desire to sorrow, his ardor to shame.

Instead of seeking her out in her pathetic exile in the countryside and offering her payment to confront Robin again, Nicholas thought as he lay his head upon his arm upon a dark windowpane, he should have sought her out to beg her pardon and pay her well to forget the whole affair. But then he might never have gotten to know her, he thought, and that would have been a loss as great as the one he risked in losing her now. And he would lose her, he thought wretchedly, unless he had both skill and luck within the next few weeks.

It was the confused telling of her tale that had made all his suspicions comprehensible to him at last. It was her inability to understand that which now was increasingly and shatteringly clear to him, which even as much as her kiss had confirmed his belief in her essential innocence. He must find Robin, he thought with such an overwhelming sense of urgency that he was tempted to rush from his room out into the moonlit streets seeking some sign of his nephew. He himself could explain a great deal to Julia, but only Robin could completely lift the burden of her disgrace so that she might believe in herself again.

It was amusing, he supposed wearily, that this search, which he had begun so that Julia might persuade Robin to return home, was only continuing now so that he might persuade Julia to come home with him. He still had obligations to his family and he would attempt to fulfill those, but no more than that.

Thoughts of his nephew made him heart-sore so it was as well, he rationalized sadly, that he was so totally preoccupied with Julia. Then too, Robin was, after all, just as his stepfather had said, a man now, and able to make his own decisions.

As for himself, his decision had been made before he had even become fully aware of it. He had wanted her in his bed even when he had believed the worst of her. Then he had wanted her companionship, even as he mistrusted her. Now he wanted her in any way in which she choose to come to him. But he knew she must come to him, and as his wife, if he were ever to know peace.

This was an altogether new experience for him. With all his wide experience of women and the various pleasures they offered, and for all her ignorance of his sex, in many ways she made him feel, strangely enough, almost virginal in his emotions. For he found himself in the odd position of pursuing a female for the usual purposes, only to discover that he eventually valued her so much as a person that her womanhood became almost an incidental gift. He had always loved women, yet he knew that this was the first time that he had ever loved
a
woman completely. He had been his mama’s and sisters’ adored child, just as Ivy, he saw now, had been his adorable, amusing infant. Other women had been plush cornucopias of goodness, satisfying but replaceable. Julia Hastings was unique. She was the only person he wished to share his life with.

But had she spoken of impediments? He laughed to himself as he left the empty window to pace his room. What she perceived as hindrances to her future were only illusions, shadows thrown against the wall by ignorance and fear, which could be banished in a moment by exposing them to the full light of truth. Robin could do that for her, and then she would be free to choose whatever course she would. But once she was able to build her new life, how could she choose himself as life’s-mate, he wondered, after all that he had done and been to her? Deceiver, kidnapper, seducer, and blackmailer, oh yes, Nicholas thought with a weary sardonicism, she has every cause to love and respect me.

That she had kissed him and confided in him was as nothing, he thought bitterly. That she desired him was no credit to him, for she was just as she had claimed, very ignorant of such emotions and very unused to the ways of men. And that she trusted him now was the opposite credit to him, for she was, just as she had often denied, still so very young, and as was pitifully apparent to him, so very alone.

She had been right about him at the outset, Nicholas thought despairingly, for he was certainly mad. How else could he possibly entertain any notion of her forgiving him or wanting him as husband after she had gotten her self-respect back again? And he knew it would be more than wrong, it would be dishonorable to press his suit while she was still confused or still dependent upon him. He could only wait upon matters, attempt to bring her Robin as embodiment of the truth, make restitution, beg her forgiveness, and in the fullness of time, hope to receive it and more.

Nicholas lay down and closed his eyes, now only hoping that when he opened them again it would be to the sunlight of another day, so that he could be up and off about his business once more. But he opened them a second later to see the same shifting shadows of bleak night. For in that moment of half
sleep he had seen Julia’s face, remembering it as it had been in that moment after he had struck her, and then it struck at his heart with as much force as a blow, that he could never hope to make restitution, that he could never hope to honorably have her.

When a dull, damp morning dawned at last, Nicholas was out of his bed, washed, and dressed for his journey with his traveling case in hand even before the lowest sculle
r
y maid in the hotel had lit the morning kitchen fires. Even if he had brought Makepiece with him, he could not have been gone from his room faster. So it was that he found himself with enough time, after he had settled his bill with a yawning clerk, to sit down to a breakfast before he mounted up and rode back across the trail he had just taken. He sipped his coffee and thought of England, even as he buttered his bread and knew he must return to Paris. For there was where Robin was bound for, or so he believed, or so he hoped.

It was as he left the dining room and crossed the wide lobby on his way to the stables to see to his mount and begin his journey that he heard his name being called. He turned to see the young clerk that he had dealt with in the early hours coming out from behind the desk and hurrying over to him.

“Ah, my lord,” the young man said as he came abreast of the baron, his face a study of an admixture of embarrassment and deference, “please to forgive me. It was su
ch
a stupid mistake, but my superior would discharge me if he discovered it. It is the policy of the Hotel LeReinne to ascertain from each departing guest their future destination. In case of postals to be forwarded, or inquiries, do you see? In these unsettled times,” the young man went on apologetically in his carefully enunciated English, “the authorities wish to know such things of foreign visitors. Do you understand, my lord?”

Nicholas only remained silent for a moment. He saw very well, and permitted himself a genuinely pleasant, placating smile as he looked down at the perspiring and anxious clerk.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly. “But it would be difficult to give you my exact destination, as I shall be continuing to travel about the region. Still, if there are any messages for me, I will collect them if they are forwarded to me in care of the Hotel Alphen in Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam,” the young clerk nodded.

“Yes,” said the baron and began to leave, but then checked and, turning about, said so suddenly as to make the little clerk’s shoulder’s leap, “but this is to be considered confidential, and only for receipt of my messages.” And smiling to reassure the young man, he reached into his pocket and, withdrawing a coin whose color and denomination made the young man’s eyebrows rise even as his shoulders just had done, gave it to him along with a huge wink.

“Just so, my lord,” the clerk said, pocketing the sum before bowing low to his departing guest.

A few moments later, in a darkened
corner
of the lobby, the clerk received another English coin to keep its compatriot company.

“Amsterdam,” the cleric whispered upon receipt of this sum.

“Amsterdam, ah!” Sir Sidney said, and turned upon his heel before the fellow could complete his bow.

Lord Nicholas Daventry, Baron Stafford, mounted his horse and with broad unconcern headed to the north, as he whistled to himself. But he smiled to himself as well as he calculated how many more streets he must ride before he could safely turn his mount and gallop back to the west where his ambitions lay and his heart remained.

“I think,” Julia said very carefully, “that it is becoming increasingly foolish to remain here.”

“I agree that it may seem so,” her companion said calmly, “however, the baron did leave explicit instructions and those were, I believe, to the effect that we wait upon his return before taking any farther action.”

As this was undeniably true, but also undeniably flat, Julia made no reply. She only gazed over at Lady Preston and watched that good woman as she sat and read through her fashion magazine. They sat in the hotel’s small salon, for their bedrooms had become overly familiar with prolonged use, and there was nowhere else that they could agree upon to go. Julia had rejected any idea of further sightseeing, as she had said rather testily that she had seen everything of interest by this time, and her feet and her eyes were weary. But the truth was, she sighed to herself, that even a peek behind the heavenly gates would bore her at this point. It seemed she had lost the ability to concentrate. Her book lay open in her lap to the same page that it had been opened to an hour past. It seemed, she thought sadly, that no book, no sight, no sound could interest her, unless it was the sight of
a certain face, or the sound of a certain footfall.

But she had waited as she had promised she would, for more than two weeks. Now it appeared that awake or asleep some part of her was always listening for his return, so that she could not fully appreciate anything else around her. Not that there was much else to enjoy, she reminded herself. As she had gotten a proper chaperone, Celeste had gratefully taken up the duties she was most familiar with, that of a lady’s maid, and so did not keep her company beyond tending to her hair, person, and apparel. And though Lady Preston was charming, and always in readiness to accompany her charge anywhere, she was, Julia thought sourly, as distant as an Alp, and almost as warm as one. She smiled to herself as she thought that Nicholas might enjoy that simile, but then frowned again as she wondered if she would ever get the chance to tell it to him.

She was almost ready to leave for home. Alone if need be, alone most probably. Her chaperone would doubtless wish to wait for her wages, as would her lady’s maid. This was, after all, Celeste’s homeland. But it was becoming apparent that she herself was no longer needed. She sighed as she thought it, so heavily that Lady Preston looked up for a moment. At that, Julia took up her book and dabbed at her eye as though it were some passage she had been reading that had so affected her. What there might be to cause such sorrow in a tour book devoted to Paris, Julia could not imagine, but her action seemed to suit Lady Preston and she went back to pursuing her fashion plates.

For a certainty Lady Preston would opt for waiting for Nicholas’s return, Julia decided, for each week that she waited her purse grew larger. Julia no longer deceived herself about the lady’s intentions, and so she no longer felt under any obligation to the older woman and had no compunctions about taking her own course of action as she saw fit. But she couldn’t determine what that course should be.

Certain facts were irrefutable. Nicholas had gone, and he had asked her to wait for him. But he had not come back, and there was always the possibility that he would not. The gentlemen of his family, Julia thought, as she had thought for several long sleepless nights now, were famous for changing their minds.

He had asked her to be his mistress, and then against all probability, there in the darkened garden, after she had unburdened herself to him, she had known that she would do whatever he asked of her. And then, of course, he had withdrawn his offer.

When she had been seventeen, she thought now, dropping her unread book back to her lap and staring at the pattern of tiny green and gold cabbage roses and buds upon the wall, she had believed that Robin had broken her heart. But now she knew that he had not, he had only caused her to hide it away. It was his uncle who had unearthed it despite all her caution, and finding it still intact, it was he who would complete its destruction. If she had thought that what she had felt for Robin was love, then she had learned better, and it was his uncle who had taught her. For young Robin, there had been admiration, laughter, and a sense of flattered importance that such a grown-up, accomplished fellow could want her. For Nicholas, there was also laughter and admiration but then, for him, there was everything else as well, including this miserable feeling that nothing in life was worth a thing unless he was with her.

Yet it appeared that just as Robin had abandoned her on
a windy October night when she was miles from home, after a proposal of marriage, so Nicholas would leave her here in this hotel after his offer of carte blanche, for history had a love of balance. And then, too, Julia thought, just as Nicholas himself had said, she had a singular lack of luck with his family. These thoughts gave rise to such agitation that she found herself rising from her chair, as though their sheer turbulence had swept her to her feet.

“I
...
I find I have the headache,” Julia temporized, as she saw Lady Preston gazing questioningly up at her. “You need not accompany me, my lady, for I’m only going up to my room to lie down for a while until it passes,” she explained, knowing only as she voiced it that this was in part exactly what she wished to do. At least, she wanted to be completely alone so that she could make plans without fearing that evidences of her plotting would show upon her face.

Her decision came to her all at once even as Lady Preston gazed mildly upon her. Though she had wrestled with the problem night after empty night, drea
r
y day after increasingly joyless day, now suddenly, it all came clear. She must be gone from this place at once. If he had deserted her, she would be better off leaving before the time spent waiting f
o
r him became advanced enough to become embarrassing and made her a figure of ridicule or pity. She had had quite enough experience of that in the past. Then again, if he planned to return, then she decidedly should be gone when he got back, for whatever she might wish to do when she was with him, she knew very well that she must never be his mistress. With him or without him, she must accept that there would be pain. She must eventually lose him, and better now than when she made either a complete fool or a slattern of herself.

“Yes,” she said distractedly, now thinking only of what she would and would not include within her portmanteau so that she would not weep over her decision, “I think I shall lie down.”