Page 23 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Twenty

Why had she not predicated where the conversation of Frankenstein could lead? Why had she taken Orlando to that conversation when there were others that were equally interesting.

She’d seen the haunting in his grey eyes as soon as the topic of body parts was introduced and had wanted to pull him away, shield him from the ugly memories to protect him, but feared what others may perceive of her actions.

So, she had stood there, by his side until he left and she followed.

She had also wanted to forget her memories of what she had seen when she had gone to The Farm of Mont St. Jean to look for.

It was no wonder he suffered nightmares and was surprised that she hadn’t. Now she would sit with him, be his friend, as she had been in the past.

“You remember the nightmares?” he asked.

Vividly! “Yes.”

Blythe had ached for him then and wished that she could make the war magically disappear, but with Napoleon on the march, battle was inevitable and all she could do was hold Orlando and give him what comfort she could before he drifted off to sleep again.

Thinking back, that may be the only time in her life that she had been needed, for herself, and not because her father was a duke and she was wealthy.

“Do they still return?” she asked when he hadn’t answered. “The nightmares.”

“Not for some time.” He stared off, and she suspected he was not really seeing anything.

“But you fear that they will return tonight?” Blythe asked quietly. The closest they came to being physically intimate was when she’d hold him after he’d awaken, sweat on his brow.

“Not if I free my mind of the memories.” His smile was forced and doubt lingered in his grey eyes, but Blythe would not argue with his intentions to forget.

Oh, it was so tempting to ask him to stay the night so that he was not alone if the nightmares visited him again, but they were no longer in the same position as they had been before and Orlando might take her request as an offer of something else.

“Tell me about your family,” she prompted. She knew about each one because Orlando had discussed them in length, when he spoke of his childhood, and being raised by a vicar, so long ago. She had felt as if she knew them even though she had only met Isabella.

“As you know, Isabella married Storm. That did not happen until last spring, when Nate found her in London quite unexpectedly.” He grinned at Blythe. “Much like I stumbled across you. At an entertainment.”

“I have been here since leaving Brussels,” she reminded him.

“If you had wanted to renew an acquaintance, you could have found me. It was no secret where I was living.” Yet, he hadn’t bothered to look as they both knew and they likely would not be having a conversation now had they not crossed paths at the Venetian Breakfast, which she needed to remind herself.

“I assumed you were with your family in the country. I have been here two years and never heard your name.” He raised an eyebrow. “You are the one who left.”

“Yes. I did,” she admitted, and he knew the reasons because she had explained them in her letter. “Tell me about your sisters.” It would do no good to think about the past or anything that may have happened prior to the Venetian Breakfast.

“All my sisters have married and now my eldest brother,” he answered. “They married well and one is even a duchess and another a marchioness.”

“Do their husbands…” Blythe asked quietly, not revealing his secrets.

“Yes, they do. They insisted on their husbands knowing before any vows were spoken so that they would have the opportunity to call off the marriage.”

A smile pulled at her lips. “I assume none of them did.”

“It did not even cross their minds to do so.”

“Is Mercutio still a pugilist and is Petrucio an actor? And is Benedick still with the Thames River Police?”

Orlando blinked at her. “I cannot believe you remember their professions.”

“I have forgotten very little from our nightly discussions.”

“Mercutio has recently mentioned that he grows tired of being a pugilist. Even though he always wins, he would like not to wake every morning with sore muscles and bruises.” Orlando laughed. “He is more interested in a position as a guard, such as the giants you have at your front door.”

“I will advise Her Grace in case she is in need of another footman .”

“Petrucio is saving so that he can leave acting and become a Hair-Dresser for Ladies and Gentlemen, Perfumer and Ornamental Hair Manufacturer. Apparently, he has had these plans for a year but my brothers and I were recently told.”

“Do you have anything against him having such a profession?” Blythe asked as she wondered why it would be kept from a brother.

“No. He just assumed that we would not be interested.” Orlando shook his head. “Benedick is still with the Thames River Police and I do not anticipate that he will ever change his profession.”

“Even though Rosalind had wed, you feared that your other sisters would not. I am glad that those concerns are gone.”

“Yes, well much came to light last year. There were things that we had not known about our mother,” he said quietly and shook his head. “But now is not the time to talk about what we learned.”

She supposed that he was correct.

“How long did you remain in Brussels?” She needed to know how long he had been back in England when she truly wanted to know why he hadn’t called on her since he was interested in speaking to her now.

“Months,” he answered and then went on to explain how long it had taken to treat the injured and why many could not return to England right away, and illnesses that followed.

She listened and understood the struggles he had faced because she had been there too. Just not as involved as a surgeon, she knew how living in an army camp could be.

“What of your family?” he asked.

“A brother and two sisters wed last year,” she answered. “That leaves two brothers who are of marriageable age but remain bachelors. Cecil who is the Barrister and Nevil who…He has taken over the tavern in the town near father’s estate.”

Orlando frowned. “The tavern?”

“Yes, well, much information is shared in the tavern, sailing, the moon, if the navy has been about…” Amongst the many secrets they had shared, she had confessed to her family being smugglers.

“The former owner passed and Nevil purchased it and he enjoys the independence of an income that does not come from an allowance. My two younger brothers have no interest in settling down and my youngest sister will not make her appearance in London until next year, when she is eight and ten.”

“Do you see them often?” he asked.

Blythe blew out a sigh. “I had not seen anyone but Seth until last autumn when I finally went home to face them and but could not bring myself to tell father or anyone what John did. He was dead so what did it really matter?”

“I missed you Blythe,” Orlando said as he placed a hand over hers. “I knew that I had, but not just how much until now.”

Her heart fluttered, but missing could mean anything and not necessarily a deeper emotion.

“I missed you as well,” she admitted. “It was because of you that the last month on the Continent was not so difficult.”

“That was because you were free of your husband.”

“I will admit, though it is wrong of me to do so, I was glad to be away from John, but I was equally glad to have gained you as a protector.” Not that she had served his needs in any way as most women do for their protector .

“I enjoyed our nights and conversations. I liked not being alone.” This was something she had never admitted to him but no longer feared doing so.

Maybe it was because of the distance in time.

“I also liked not being alone.” He stared into her eyes.

Her pulse increased.

“Are you alone now?” she asked in a whisper.

“More than I care to be,” he returned, not breaking eye contact.

Her blood heated and breasts tightened.

He tilted his head as a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You seem to be under the impression that I am some kind of rake or scoundrel,” Orlando offered quietly.

She rather hoped that he was so that they could go above-stairs to her chamber.

However, she would not admit as much just yet.

“I have seen for myself that you often visit women of ill-repute. You did so outside of Brussels and I witnessed you do so here,” she returned and tried not to smile as she teased.

“If that were true, is it not dangerous for you to be alone with me? What if I were determined to seduce you?”

Her heart pounded. If only…

“You have not before nor do I expect you to now,” she reminded him. “And we are hardly alone.”

He arched a dark brow, and nodded to the room beyond.

Blythe turned and gasped. When they had taken their seats, the drawing room had been filled with guests, now she and Orlando were completely alone.

“Ah, Blythe, I could not then. You were married and as much as I wanted you, it would have been wrong.”

“You had wanted to?” she asked. He had never indicated he had such a desire.

“Do you really not know the answer to your own question?”

It was something that she had never given thought to, or would not allow herself to ponder simply because it was wrong.

“You were a wife then, Blythe.” His eyes darkened. “You are not any longer.”

Her pulse heated. Maybe he did want her. She certainly wanted him.

Orlando leaned in, his lips almost touching hers.

She sucked in a breath, skin heating, longing, desires, everything about her was sensitive, waiting for that kiss and what was to follow.

“Lady Blythe,” one of the footmen called and she sprang away from Orlando.

“Yes, George.”

“Everyone else has gone for the evening. Would you like me to remain by the door until Dr. Valentine has taken his leave?”

“That is not necessary. I will see Dr. Valentine out and lock the door behind him.”

“Until tomorrow.” The footman offered a slight bow then left them alone.

Would he kiss her now or had the spell been broken.