Page 19 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Seventeen

“I was one of the many women with important and titled fathers who foolishly fell in love and believed the honeyed words of a scoundrel who was more interested in what my father, the duke, could provide,” Blythe began before she returned to the settee.

Hers was not an unusual tale.

“I am sorry, Blythe.”

She dismissed Elizabeth’s’ concern with a wave of her hand.

She then told her friend about how she had followed the drum and how John made demands of her father and his anger at the realization that he would not gain what he hoped for and that marrying her was a mistake.

Elizabeth gasped. “He told you that?”

“It was worse,” she clarified. “He was done with me.”

“What do you mean that he was done with you?”

Blythe took a deep, shuddering breath, ready to voice the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to her. “He sold me.”

“Sold you!” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “To whom?”

“Dr. Valentine.”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened but no words emerged. Blythe supposed that she should have expected such a reaction.

“When, how, what happened next?”

“It was a month before the Battle of Waterloo,” Blythe answered before she explained that he had obtained a room at a local inn for her, without telling Elizabeth that Orlando had claimed that they were married.

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Yes. Almost daily.” Blythe smiled at the memory. “He worried that something could happen to me, a woman, living alone at an inn, but there was no need. I was safe and for a short time we were friends.”

“Short time?” Elizabeth asked. “Did something happen to end your friendship?”

“The Battle of Waterloo,” she answered flatly. “I became a widow and Orlando did not need to worry about protecting me any longer.”

Elizabeth arched a brow in intrigue.

“I promise that he remained a gentleman at all times.”

“If he was only a friend, why did you practically run from the Venetian Breakfast? You certainly couldn’t have feared that he would announce just how the two of you were acquainted.”

Blythe drew in a deep breath and blew out a sigh. “It was the shock, I suppose. The fear of the truth, the memories of one of the worst days of my life, but also…”

“Also, what?” Elizabeth asked when Blythe didn’t finish her statement.

Blythe shook her head. “It is not important, nor does it matter.”

Elizabeth placed her empty wine glass on the table then crossed her arms over her breast. “I am equally as certain that it does.”

“You are mistaken,” Blythe insisted.

“Are you going to sit there, look me in the eyes, and try and convince me that you did not fall in love with Dr. Orlando Valentine over two years ago in Brussels?”

Infatuation? Yes. Smitten? Yes.

Love? No because she had not allowed it to happen.

“I did not and it is best that I forget him,” she finally said.

“Forget is something you do when a relationship has ended poorly. I thought you and Dr. Valentine had become friends, close. One usually does not want to forget such an important relationship,” Elizabeth argued.

“I was nothing more than a damsel who needed saving. He protected and befriended me.”

“But he did purchase you, so you must have meant something to him.”

“We had not even met each other before that day, so no, I did not mean anything to him.”

Further, she’d been living in London since her return and not once had he come looking for her.

Even a close friend would seek the other out and he had not, which was proof that she meant very little to him.

She told him to call on her if he wanted to continue their friendship, and that she would either be with her brother, Seth, or he would know where she could be located, yet not once had Orlando come looking for her.

“Well, that is it then. We faced your past, I know your secrets and I will keep them. Tomorrow is a new day in which you can move forward.”

If only it were so easy.

“I shall now make use of one of the rooms you have above, which are always prepared for unexpected guests because you have an excellent staff, and tomorrow we shall visit Covent Garden.”

Blythe blinked at her friend. “Why?”

“The market,” Elizabeth answered. “I plan on purchasing as many flowers as possible then take them back with me to Matron Manor where their sweet fragrances will fill every common room.”

If only she could view matters as simply as Elizabeth, deal with uncomfortable situations, set them aside and turn her attention to a random and minor matter.

“I will see you in the morning.” Elizabeth smiled and left the room.

Maybe it was so simple. Maybe now that she has seen Orlando, and put the past to rest, it will no longer linger in the back of her mind—a dark cloud of embarrassment and guilt for loving and desiring someone who was not her husband.

Besides, it was time to look toward the future. She was happy, she had friends and she enjoyed her position at Athena’s Salon. What more could she want when her life was complete?

* * *

Orlando crossed to the sideboard in his office and poured himself a glass of brandy. He was not yet ready to retire upstairs where he kept a set of rooms.

Memories of Brussels flooded his mind. That longing and desire for a married woman that had filled him each and every day, and the undeniable instinct to protect her.

At the knock on his door, Orlando blew out a sigh and crossed to open it, already knowing who was on the other side.

“What are you going to do now that you have found Blythe?” Isabella asked as she entered, followed by Storm.

“Do?” he asked.

“Yes. Do.” His sister plopped down onto the settee. “Could you pour me a glass of wine, dear.” She smiled at Storm.

“Your wish is my command.” He winked and crossed to the sideboard.

At least his siblings had married well. Orlando didn’t expect to have the same luck and would likely die a bachelor.

“You love her,” Isabella reminded him.

“I never made such a claim.” He had never confessed such, nor would he ever.

“I wonder if she still believes that you are a rake disguised as a doctor.” Isabella laughed.

“Do you intend to seek her out?” Storm asked.

“I most certainly do.”

“For what purpose?” Isabella asked. “That is, if it is true that you do not love her.”

He turned to the window, his back to Storm and Isabella.

“Because she belongs to me.”

She belonged to him!

The words lingered in Orlando’s mind long after Isabella and Storm left him.

She was also a widow.

Blythe was free!

And she belonged to him.

Now, all he needed was a plan and then he would claim her.

Except, she knew his past, that of his family, and it was likely the reason she had fled, and would also keep them apart.

But he still needed answers, the truth, so he knew for certain why she had left instead of assuming.