Page 24 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

“It does grow late.” Orlando stood, much to her disappointment. “However, before I go, there are matters that I must clarify.”

“What would those be?”

“The reason you often saw me visiting camp followers was because they were also in need of a doctor since they did not bring one of their own as the army did. They suffered injuries and illnesses much like the soldiers. And, because they were women, I wanted to allot them the privacy they would have lacked in a medical tent.”

She had just assumed…but of course women would at times need a physician. Many of them had been with the regiment far longer than she.

Had she judged him unfairly.

“As for this morning, one of the women at Madame Devine’s had been harmed by a man who had visited. I was called in the early morning to treat her injuries.”

“Oh.”

“And, since I did not get much sleep last night and I anticipate an early morning, I should take my leave.”

Blast! She had wanted him to kiss her. If George had not interrupted them, maybe…

Blythe pushed her thoughts aside. Hoping and wishing would not help so she walked him to the front door and tried to hide her disappointment.

“Does that mean you are not a rake?”

His grey eyes darkened as the corner of his mouth twitched. “I will be back tomorrow. Our discussions are not over, nor is our association.”

Her heart started pounding again.

He opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop and grinned, mischief in his grey eyes.

“And do not forget, you do belong to me.” He tipped his head. “Goodnight, Blythe.”

Then he was gone, stepping onto the street and into the darkness.

Oh, she had wanted to call him back but did not. Instead, she shut the door and locked it.

You do belong to me!

Then where had he been since his return?

* * *

He nearly kissed Blythe and would have if they had not been interrupted.

While they conversed, he had noted as people left Athena’s Salon and the hour grew late.

His own brother, Demetrius, had even arched a brow in question, but Orlando had only glanced at him.

He feared that if he would have indicated to Demetrius in any way to leave without him that Blythe would have noticed then looked around and realized how long they had sat in conversation.

When Demetrius started forward, it was Isabella who tugged on his arm and pulled him back while Lavinia tilted her head and raised an eyebrow of interest, smiled at Orlando and then followed her husband and sister-in-law. Women were usually the smarter of the genders in this situation.

Then he and Blythe were alone, and they continued to talk.

Orlando had not wanted the night to end, and he wanted to kiss her and contemplated if he should seduce her but feared it was too soon when George interrupted them.

Blythe had wanted to be kissed. Of that he was certain.

Did she also long for the intimacy that they had once been denied?

Those were the thoughts that plagued him as he walked down the street.

He could have hailed hackney, but his home and medical practice was not so far away from Athena’s Salon, just on the edge of Covent Garden and near Leicester Square, and the walk allowed him to consider his options.

He would return to Athena’s Salon tomorrow night, and the night that followed.

He would court Blythe and then…

Court her?

No, he wanted to seduce her. He wanted her in his bed, her naked body beneath his. He wanted her as a lover and friend. It had always been that way. He needed…

Bloody hell!

Blythe was not someone he could just bed or keep as a lover until he tired of her. She deserved more respect.

But the only alternative was marriage.

What right did he have to pursue the daughter of a duke when he was but a mere doctor, son of a stable hand, with hardly any income to support a family.

She would not consider him, especially if it was because of his family that she fled.

Then again, if anything, his family had proven that when there was love then rank and professions mean little.

At least, it hadn’t mattered for his sisters.

They had married wealthy men who supported them.

As for his older brother, Demetrius, the solicitor, well he had inherited a home in Seaford from a former client, therefore he and Lavinia would live quite comfortably.

Orlando could not offer the same, even if she did not mind being associated with the Valentines.

His home had two bedrooms, parlor, dining room and kitchen, above his medical practice in Covent Garden.

Hardly the place for a wife who had been raised by a duke.

Then again, it was better than living in a tent while she followed the drum.

Except, that had been a temporary situation, his home was not.

Blythe had taken up residence in her brother’s home in Mayfair, a neighborhood that he could never afford so it was unlikely she would…

Blythe lived in her brother’s home, then why had she remained at Athena’s Salon after it closed?

Was there work that she needed to see completed before she could leave?

Orlando stopped on the walk, turned and marched back. How could he have left her there to make her way home alone at this time of night?

What if she had already left? Did he follow to make certain that she arrived safely?

As he neared the former home where Athena’s Salon now stood, he slowed his steps, noting that every room on the ground floor was dark.

She had already left.

Had she taken a hackney? Or maybe a trusted driver had waited for her.

Uncertain what to do, he looked down the street. Should he hire a hackney to make certain that she made it home safe?

At the squeak of a gate, Orlando became even more alert and turned to find George, the footman, exiting Athena’s Salon from the lower level.

“Dr. Valentine, did you forget something inside?” he asked.

“I was concerned for Lady Blythe,” he answered. “It just occurred to me that there was no one to see her home at this hour.”

“It is not necessary,” George answered. “When Lady Blythe is the manager for the night, she stays in the set of rooms above stairs and I can assure you that there are enough guards and servants to see to her safety.”

Orlando stepped back and looked up at the house to note that one corner room on the first floor did indeed have lamps or candles burning inside.

“Thank you, George. I will rest easier knowing she is safe.” He then tipped his hat and turned to again make his way home.

If Blythe slept at Athena’s Salon, it would make it much easier to remain until everyone had left then find a way into her bedchamber where he had every intention of seducing her.

As for his other intentions, he would give them further thought at a later time.