Page 2 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter One

Humiliation, the likes of which she had never experienced before, and hopefully never would again, engulfed Blythe’s entire being.

It took everything not to cower, but to stand tall as her husband led her from the tent they had once shared toward the crowd of soldiers who had gathered near the stable yard where the cavalry kept their horses.

If they were walking side by side, perhaps she might not have been as mortified, if John had not tied a rope around her waist, then looped it around her wrists, knotted it, then led her to the gathering as if she were his horse.

“This is your own fault,” John claimed. “Had you held up your part of the bargain, this would not be necessary.”

“Bargain? We had no bargain,” Blythe argued.

“It was assumed that when we wed that your father would provide me a life that I am entitled to.”

“ You assumed!”

“Why else would I choose to court and marry you?” he demanded.

She had been such a fool to believe his honeyed words of love and succumbed to near ruination.

She should have listened to her father when he tried to discourage her from accepting John’s offer of marriage.

He hadn’t cared what the gossips said and it was only the appearance of being ruined, not that she was.

Besides, even if she had been, there were far worthier men to marry and who would overlook her indiscretion.

Blythe had not believed him and it also would not have mattered because she had been convinced that what she and John shared was a deep love—the type of which the poets wrote.

Blythe nearly snorted at how foolish and naive she’d been while her father had seen John for who he was.

Never again would she trust in her heart. Instead, she would be led by her mind.

“Do you truly believe that your life will be for the better when you do return to London?” John had to be mad if he thought there would be no repercussions from his actions this day. “My father will learn what you have done and it will not go well for you.”

Blythe comforted herself knowing that once word reached her family, she would not be surprised if her four older brothers found their way to Brussels to deal with John personally.

Well, maybe not Wesley, the oldest because he did have duties, but Seth, Cecil and Nevil would not let anything keep them from seeing John harmed, likely irreparably, by the time they were done.

“I will not be returning to London, or even England. Instead, I will use the funds I gain today, and what you brought to the marriage, and as soon as possible, sell my commission and leave this place.”

He coveted a life of privilege in London. Why would he go anywhere else? “You would desert your command?”

“I will not put my life in danger for King and Country when I gain nothing by the sacrifice.”

Blyth slowed her steps as they drew near the crowd that had gathered. Most of the men were in the cavalry with her husband.

John tugged on the rope arm. “Just as I gained nothing by marrying you.”

Except, he could still have far more than he had prior to their marriage. It just wasn’t good enough. Nothing was ever good enough.

All he did was take and take, expecting to be rewarded for nothing, and when things did not go his way, lay all the blame for those failings on her, as if she had control of her father, Napoleon and all of England.

Except he would be disappointed, and likely angry when he realized that he wasn’t gaining as much from her as he likely expected and that is his own fault for warning her as to what he was about because as soon as she was told to pack her satchel, she had been careful to hide the few pieces of jewelry that she brought with her and the little funds that she was able to secretly accumulate on her person.

And, just as she suspected, prior to leaving the tent that they had shared, John had gone through her satchel to discover that it only contained her clothing, cribbage board and cards, and a journal.

She wished that she could see his face when he opened her small trunk to find only a few books, mending or clothing too stained and in disrepair to keep.

By then, it would be too late for him to do anything about the missing jewels.

The soldiers parted as John led her through the crowd. Blythe’s face burned as the men looked her over much like they would do before purchasing a horse. But she would stand tall and not reveal how truly vulnerable she felt.

He led her up to a platform then tied the rope around a post. Blythe blew out a heavy sigh and placed the satchel at her feet then clutched her hands together so that nobody could see how much they trembled.

Oh, it was so easy to be brave when they were in the tent and she was packing and even when he tied the rope around her, but in this very moment, she was terrified.

One of these men would purchase her. Dread filled her being as she imagined what…

No. She could not think about what would come next or she might very well scream, cry and panic and she needed to remain strong and defiant before those who had gathered and not let them see even a glimpse of weakness.

* * *

When Orlando had gone into the stables to examine a burn received by a stable hand, the stable yard had few people about. However, upon his exit found it full of military men.

Was Napoleon near? He could think of no other reason why so many men would be gathered around if they were not going to prepare for war.

“What is happening?” he asked someone standing near.

“There is to be an auction.” The man grinned.

Orlando frowned. “An auction of what?”

“Her!” The man pointed ahead and Orlando focused on what was beyond the man’s index finger and sucked in a breath.

Standing defiantly, midnight hair cascading around her shoulders and rope around her waist was the most beautiful woman Orlando had ever seen.

This also wasn’t the first time he had seen her either.

He first noticed her nearly two months ago when he was passing through the area where the cavalry officers were camped.

After that, he made it a point to walk near or through that camp when given a reason and opportunity.

He needed to know who she was but it took nearly another month to find out that she was married, much to his disappointment.

He had truly hoped that she followed a brother and not a husband, just like his sister, Isabella, had done.

There was just something about Mrs. Clay that intrigued him. Without them ever having once spoken, he was drawn to her and it made no sense whatsoever. He had also decided that this was what it must feel like to be smitten and suffer from longing for someone who would never be theirs.

Foolish, he well knew, but that didn’t stop the increase in his pulse or the fluttering in his abdomen each time he saw her. Except for today his physical reaction was anger bordering on rage directed at her husband.

Her cheeks were devoid of colors, as were her lips and her blue eyes dull.

But she had stood tall. Her spine straight and chin lifted.

She would not hide from what was happening, nor did she utter a word or beg her husband to reconsider.

She had stood there, looking out and over those who had gathered, her eyes fixed on something in the distance, not on anyone there.

Perhaps she was willing herself away and Orlando admired her more in that moment than at any other time.

“The woman is being auctioned?” he asked to clarify.

“Clay is done with her and she goes to the highest bidder.”

Disgust filled his being and he looked around to note how many men had gathered to win the wife of another.

“Attention everyone,” Lieutenant Clay called out over the crowd. “Today I am here to auction off my wife.”

Orlando had truly hoped that this was a mistake, but clearly it wasn’t.

What kind of man sold his wife?

“She agreed to this?” he asked.

The man next to him shrugged.

He supposed it did not matter. The laws were that Mrs. Clay was the property of her husband to do with as he wished.

“She keeps a clean tent, does well with the laundry and is a mediocre cook, but does well considering she was raised with servants who did these chores prior to her marrying me.”

Did she come from a titled family or was she an heiress? If so, why had she married a lieutenant in the cavalry?

“At one time she was even an excellent bed partner.”

There were jeers all around and disgust layered in on the anger filled his being.

“She will at least keep you warm on those cold nights.”

Mrs. Clay’s cheeks had pinkened and if he was not mistaken, fury and hate filled those usually kind blue eyes.

As the bidding started, Orlando remained and watched, unable to stop himself.

The urge to protect her grew stronger as the price rose and when Lieutenant Clay called, “You certainly could do better than seven shillings. That is barely a day’s pay when you are getting your own personal servant and…

” He cocked his head and smiled, indicating what he thought the most important thing to be.

“Ten shillings,” one man called.

“Twelve,” another yelled. That man stood beside another and the two had their heads together since the bidding began. Did they intend to share her?

That thought had sickened him more than the bloody auction and he could no longer in good conscience remain silent as this travesty unfolded.

“Fifteen shillings,” he called.

The two men who had been bidding glared at him.

“Sixteen shillings,” the first man called.

“Seventeen,” the other countered.

He was not going to stand here all day when Orlando had already decided that she would be his. Therefore, he would bid an amount that would force the other two to drop out, or so he assumed.

“One pound.”

The first man shook his head and turned away.

The second glared at him. “One pound, ten shillings.”

“Two pounds,” Orlando returned.

He was not a rich man by any means, nor was he paid more than anyone else in a similar position, he simply did not spend his funds, other than to assist his sister with food and necessities.

He had been saving every shilling that he could since he became a doctor in Wellington’s Army in hopes of supporting himself once he returned to England and began practicing medicine in a village somewhere.

The two men leaned close, one shaking his head.

They did not have the money to outbid him.

The man finally shrugged.

“Sold for two pounds to…What is your name, sir,” Lieutenant Clay called.

“Dr. Orlando Valentine.”