The Abandoned Bride by Edith Layton Page A

announced with a flourish; and then, bowing, he retreated from the room, closing the door behind him.
    The sole occupant of the room, a gentleman who had been seated gazing out the window, rose as she entered and turned to face her. He gazed upon her with great satisfaction before he finally spoke.
    “Good afternoon, Miss Hastings,” he said softly.
    Julia stood very still. Then she could ask only, “Where is Lady Cunningham?”
    “Why, she is here before you. Or, rather, as you will come to understand, I am she,” replied Baron Stafford, with a twisted smile that had nothing to do with humor upon his lips. “You see,” he added coldly, “it is as I told you. I, at least, honor my vows. ”

 
    5
    Only twice before in her life had Julia found herself totally incapable of coherent speech. The first time, she had been thrown from the top of a hay wagon during a friendly tussle with her sister, and when she had opened her eyes to see her father’s anxious face looming above her as she lay upon the ground, the gift of speech seemed to have failed her. The second time had come years later, when she had entered her own house one windy October night with a strange gentleman standing rigidly at her side, and she had seen the amazed and aghast looks upon all of her family’s faces. Then, she had not even had the presence of mind to introduce him, and had only heard him say, from far away, “Good evening. I am Sir Edwin Chester, and I’ve come to bring your daughter safely home to you.”
    Now she stood in the tastefully decorated private parlor of a hotel in a foreign land and gazed steadily at the gentleman before her, and it seemed that the sight of him had knocked the wind from her even as the fall from the wagon had, and the look upon his face frightened the wits from her, even as the shock upon the faces of her family had.
    “Do sit down, Miss Hastings,” the baron said in an offhand manner. “We have much to talk about.”
    But Julia would not be seated. She only stood and gripped her reticule firmly in her hands as though that were the only reality she could safely hold on to. Her first thought was to run, only it seemed that her knees were too weak to carry her to the door, much less to the street. And then when she remembered that those streets were unfamiliar ones and that she had no idea of whether she would be running to safety or to further danger, she merely remained standing, hoping inspiration for some sort of action would occur to her.
    The baron looked at her oddly, then shrugged. He seated himself again, crossed his legs, and began speaking. “Then stand, if you will. The point is that I told you your services were required upon the Continent, and happily enough, it seemed that your services were for hire at the time they were needed. So I employed you.”
    Julia found herself sinking to a chair as he spoke, as though her watery limbs had made the decision her dazed mind could not. The baron only nodded approvingly at her action and then left off looking at her. He made a steeple with his long white fingers and seemed to study it as he spoke.
    “I knew, of course, that the Misses Parkinson were your agents. The rest was simplicity itself. Well, I could hardly tr u ss you up and carry you off from London in a closed coach, as in all the popular romances, could I?” he asked as he flashed Julia a brilliant smile, before he went on just as though she had given him a reply, “No. Of course, I could not. So I simply employed Lady Cunningham to employ you, and the thing was achieved in a far more correct and less athletic fashion.
    “I don’t know why you are so amazed, Miss Hastings,” he added. “The only wonderment I find in it is that so many people accepted that ridiculous accent she adopted. For I told Lilli (your Lady Cunningham, Miss Hastings) that her accent wouldn’t fool a child. I hired her on because she is indeed, truly, from France, and speaks in the most charming manner. But she