Page 16 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Fourteen

“Do you not think it rather odd that Lavinia is hosting a Venetian Breakfast?” Blythe asked Elizabeth Cates, Lady Andover, as they traveled from Matron Manor to the home owned by Lavinia’s brother, the Duke of Claybrook, where she resided.

“I am quite curious,” Elizabeth answered. “Lavinia is not one to host entertainments, unless it is to the benefit of her younger sisters and since the Season has not yet begun, with families just beginning to arrive in London, I cannot imagine why she would be hosting a breakfast now.”

This was very strange behavior for Lady Lavinia, widow of the Marquess of Teviot, and her friend..

It was a familial relationship that Blythe first shared with Lavinia because of Blythe’s cousin, Vanessa’s, marriage to Lavinia’s younger brother, Crispin Tilson, last spring, but the two did not become friends until last autumn.

Prior to that time, Blythe had remained a recluse by choice and Lavinia had taken on the duties of her brother’s household and supervised her younger sisters.

Neither had allowed for enjoyment and entertainment for themselves, until Lavinia had decided that she wanted more and Blythe was ready to enjoy the company of others.

Not in a venue such as a ball, but something more intimate, such as Athena’s Salon.

Lavinia had been of the same mind and it was not long before they were close friends, likely due to their shared widow state.

It was also Lavinia who had introduced her to Elizabeth and invited her to visit the women who sometimes lived at Matron Manor, privately called the Wicked Widows’ League. While Blythe enjoyed the friendships that had developed, she was far from a wicked widow. She was simply a widow.

Blythe turned in her seat to further face Elizabeth. “Have you had an opportunity to speak with Lavinia since she returned from Seaford?” Blythe asked.

“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “She was gone for nearly three months and I thought that she would call on me but she has not.”

Blythe frowned. “Nor has she been seen at Athena’s Salon. The only reason I know that she had returned was because she was mentioned as being in the company of the Duke of Claybrook when he returned to London with the rest of their siblings along with his new wife.”

Elizabeth brightened. “Could it be to celebrate and possibly officially announce the marriage of His Grace to Miss Bethany Grey?”

Blythe frowned in contemplation. “If that were the case, then wouldn’t the invitation have mentioned such?

” Though, she did hope that Bethany was present.

Blythe needed to speak with her about Athena’s Salon.

She had agreed to act as hostess and was happy for the position but with the two owners otherwise occupied and out of London, she had assumed more managerial duties.

While she did not mind, clarity for what could be expected in the future would be much appreciated.

What if His Grace forbids Bethany from being a part of Athena’s? Then what would she do? Tessa, her cousin and other owner, would not be returning to London for months and with the Season soon to begin, the salons and gambling would become quite busy.

“Maybe Lavinia has been too busy preparing the house for the Season, as well as her younger sisters, to visit,” Elizabeth suggested. “Yet, if that is the case, why would she be hosting a Breakfast before the Season has even begun.”

That was a very good question, and one she hoped was answered upon their arrival.

“I do wonder if Lavinia found what she was looking for in Seaford,” Blythe murmured as she glanced out the window as they drew closer to the home of Lavinia’s brother.

“She had claimed to be dissatisfied yet not certain what to do,” Elizabeth recalled.

“You suggested she take a lover,” Blythe chuckled.

“Which is excellent advice for any widow. Why should men be the only ones who are allowed to enjoy intimacy outside of the marriage bed.”

While Blythe agreed with her friend and there were days that she longed for…she pushed the very idea aside. First, she did not want her reputation tarnished and second, there was only one man she had ever wanted, besides her husband, and he had probably forgotten her.

“Maybe she found both.” Elizabeth grinned.

“Well, I doubt she will tell us with so many around,” Blythe murmured.

“Therefore, I will insist she commit to an afternoon tea at Matron Manor where she can confide in us in private.”

It was unlikely that Lavinia would divulge anything. Her friend had always kept her own counsel except for the one time that she admitted to being dissatisfied with her life.

“Well, I suppose we are soon to find out,” Elizabeth announced as the carriage arrived at the home of her brother, the Duke of Claybrook.

The door was opened before they ever reached it and then directed down a long hall that led to a large drawing room where several guests had already gathered.

Blythe recognized many within, which included each Tilson, many Claxtons, all who were cousins, not siblings.

There were other people as well, and many that Blythe did not recognize, which was certainly not a surprise since she spent very little time in Society.

As she glanced about the room to see who else she might know her eyes met those of Isabella Valentine. She had not seen her since the day Orlando had purchased her, and even though it had only been one meeting, Blythe remembered every detail of that day of shame.

It was all she could do not to turn and leave.

The need for escape rose strong in her breast, painful panic.

For so long she had tried to forget but never could, and she refused to talk about her time on the Continent with anyone, especially her family.

In fact, she had avoided them for two years because she had wanted to hide from her past, just as she had hidden in a room at Desmit Inn.

That was why when she arrived in London, she had gone to her brother, Seth’s home, and then did not leave.

Despite her intention to face reality when she left Brussels, she had reverted to being the coward that had hidden in Desmit Inn.

Her first excuse was because she was in mourning, which allowed her to avoid Society for a full year. When that had passed, Blythe had seen no reason to reenter Society and believed she was quite content living as a recluse.

“Who is that with Lavinia?” Elizabeth asked in a whisper. “Should we know?”

Blythe frowned. She did not recognize him but the fact that he was escorting Lavinia about the room, her hand on his sleeve was certainly a curiosity.

It was then that Lord Crispin Tilson stepped onto the dais and tapped on his wine glass to gain the attention of those in the room.

“Thank you for joining us today,” he announced. “This is not simply a Venetian Breakfast, but a celebration.”

Blythe shifted her eyes to Lavinia and the man beside her. Both were smiling and when Lavinia looked into his eyes love was reflected. It appeared that her friend had found what she sought.

“I am here to announce that this past month, while visiting extended family in Kent, my sister, Lady Lavinia married the family solicitor.” Crispin chuckled. “A man that we are more than happy to welcome into the family, Mr. Demetrius Valentine.”

The name stopped all other thoughts in Blythe’s mind.

Valentine!

That explained Isabella’s presence and if she was here, were the other Valentines present?

She slowly glanced at the faces in the room, heart pounding and mouth dry, and then she saw him—the man she would never forget. The man who had saved her in many ways—the man she had fallen in love with when it was scandalous to do so—Dr. Orlando Valentine.

“It appears Lavinia is no longer dissatisfied with life,” Elizabeth murmured with a chuckle.

Blythe heard Elizabeth but found it impossible to respond.

“What is wrong?” Elizabeth asked after a moment. “You have grown very pale. Are you ill?”

If she offered that as an excuse, would she be able to leave?

But did she really wish to?

And, in that moment, Orlando turned. Their eyes locked. Time stopped as they stared at the other across the drawing room.

He had not forgotten her and she would never forget him.

* * *

Orlando was certain that his heart had stopped for a moment.

But, as a physician, he knew that it was impossible or he would be dead.

Yet, the sensation of cessation and loss of breath, almost suspended, had not been his imagination when he looked in Blythe’s pale blue eyes, a contrast to her nearly midnight hair.

And just as quickly, his heart resumed, thumping against his chest as his pulse grew elevated.

He had not known that Blythe was in London and assumed she remained in the country with her family.

Of course, he had never asked because that would invite questions.

Instead, he assumed that if she was in Town, he would have heard or they might have crossed paths.

And, since he had no good excuse to call on her, he had not traveled to her father’s home in Devon.

Besides, he also didn’t want to face her and be rejected a second time.

At least, that is how he took her disappearance.

She’d not even left a note of explanation or goodbye, simply packed her belongings and left.

At least, according to Mrs. Desmit. He could only assume that it was because she realized that being the daughter of a duke she could not associate with a man who had bastard siblings and a mother who had become a prostitute.

That was what they had believed then, and his siblings were bastards even if they did share the same father.

Given that he also learned that her husband had been killed, Blythe had been free to return to the Society she had hidden from without anyone ever knowing that her husband had sold her. Orlando was no longer needed so she left.

The pain had been deep, and it took time before he realized that no matter how much he had wanted it to be so, what they shared had not been real, simply a necessity.

Even if she had not known about his family, Orlando was still common, a doctor.

She was the widow of a lieutenant, who happened to be the third son of a viscount.

But more importantly, she was the daughter of a duke, far above his reach and likely ran in circles of those who would barely acknowledge him if their paths were to cross.

Yet, that hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with her when she likely only experienced friendship until he was no longer needed.

Oh, he wished that he could resent her. Hate her for breaking his heart, but it was not possible because he was still in love with the Blythe he had come to know, even if that was not who she really was.