Page 18 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Sixteen

Blythe could tell by the interest and intrigue in Elizabeth’s eyes that she had questions about Isabella, Captain Storm and Orlando, which was Blythe’s own fault. Elizabeth was observant and noted her shock early in the evening, and intelligent enough to know that it was because of those three.

Thankfully Elizabeth asked no questions while at the Venetian Breakfast, and was willing to leave early, after they had spoken with Lavinia and gained her promise to provide further details as to how her marriage came about at a later time.

Elizabeth had also been silent in the carriage while they returned to Blythe’s home. However, once they arrived, Elizabeth exited as well and told the driver to return the following day to collect her because she and Blythe were going to enjoy a dinner, wine and discuss the future.

She didn’t know why Elizabeth would offer such a detailed explanation to the servant, but she had, and likely more for the benefit of Blythe, in telling her that she was not leaving until her curiosity had been satisfied.

“Tell me about him,” Elizabeth practically ordered after they settled into the sitting room.

“Who?” Blythe asked innocently.

“Perhaps all three.” She tilted her head. “Though I suspect the more interesting story is whatever occurred between you and Dr. Valentine.

“Nothing.” Blythe shrugged.

It was not a lie. Nothing had occurred between them, yet her world had been altered because of him.

“What are you keeping to yourself, Blythe?”

“Why do you think I am?” she countered.

“You went deathly pale at the Venetian Breakfast, and then I looked to what had your attention only to find Dr. Valentine also staring at you right before you fled the drawing room.

“I went to the retiring room,” Blythe reminded her friend. “Hardly unusual.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and leaned back against the settee and brought the glass of wine to her lips. “There is something. A secret, and I want to know what it is.” She then sipped her drink and waited.

“There are some matters that are too personal even for friends.”

“Ah, it is one of those types of secrets.” She grinned. “Were you wicked in Brussels?”

“I was married in Brussels,” she reminded Elizabeth.

“That does not mean that you could not have also been wicked.”

Blythe stood and crossed to the window. “It is more shame… embarrassment… humiliation…improper.”

“It cannot be so bad.” Elizabeth had lost some of the humor in her tone and grew serious. “I will not push. I thought it would be an interesting story but it clearly distresses you.”

Blythe took a deep breath and sighed.

Those secrets weighed on her but Blythe hadn’t realized just how much until she saw Orlando.

The ache, longing, wishes…the guilt, all returned to her in the carriage.

Did she dare tell Elizabeth the whole of it?

It would be nice to confide in someone that she could trust. Maybe the perspective of someone who was not there might help her truly lay the past to rest.

She certainly could not have told her brother after she returned from the Continent, or anyone else for that matter.

But the one thing that she had come to realize from the other widows at Matron Manor was that none of them judged.

They listened, held confidences and, when asked, offered solutions or support.

Except, confiding in her friend would reflect poorly on John.

Was it fair to tarnish his reputation now that he was dead and had no means in which to defend himself?

Then again, did she really owe him anything after what he had done to her?

Blythe turned to face her friend. “What I tell you can never leave this room and stays between the two of us. Promise me.”

“Of course, Blythe. Your secrets will always be safe with me.”

* * *

Orlando would have liked to have left the Venetian Breakfast after Blythe had made her exit, but he could not.

The celebration was for his brother, therefore, he had to remain.

However, his mind was not on the newlywed couple, or anyone else for that matter.

Instead, he was remembering an earlier time—especially those last nights he and Blythe had shared in Brussels.

But more importantly, he wanted to know why she left without a goodbye.

He'd been stunned, then angry.

Had he meant so little to her. While he was falling in love with a married woman—a woman forbidden to him, she had been nothing more than a friend.

Of course, he had never told her. That would have been wrong. But he thought she understood when he said that he was not fine if he did not see her.

Blythe had told him that she was not fine if she did not see him.

Had that had deeper meaning for him than it had for her?

Orlando needed to know, and he would find out.

More importantly, he still loved her.

Could he win her now?