Page 28 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Her headache had only improved somewhat, and the pressure was still there. And, as the day continued, the weather deteriorated and Blythe wondered if anyone would visit Athena’s Salon tonight. Not just Orlando, but anyone.

The wind gusted with enough force that trees swayed and limbs flew until they fell to the street while rain was sometimes accompanied by hail. If it were her, she wouldn’t leave a warm, safe home for intellectual conversation or gambling.

She had instructed the footman to gather the spare umbrellas to place by the door, something that was a habit when it was simply raining, so that the members could be sheltered from the elements as they exited their carriages until they stepped inside.

The footman stood waiting and watching.

He would normally stand outside, dry under the portico, with the umbrellas but Blythe had wanted him to remain indoors where it was safer, so he watched from the window beside the door.

Blythe wandered into the drawing room to note that all was prepared, even the buffet. Had she known that the weather was going to be miserable, she would have asked Cook not to prepare so much food. But nobody had known that until preparations had been underway.

“I have not seen such weather before, Lady Blythe,” George observed when she returned to the entry.

“Neither have I.”

They both nearly jumped when there was pounding on the door and George quickly opened it to reveal Orlando, with his wet hair dripping, as well as his clothing.

“The rain is so bad that you were drenched coming from a carriage?” There certainly would be no guests tonight.

“I had to walk. There are no hackneys out and I do not own a carriage.”

“You walked?” she asked in alarm. Wasn’t it dangerous to be out in this wind and rain?

“I told you that I would return tonight and I keep my promises.” He grinned.

“George, please have a maid bring a towel and see if any of the servants have dry clothing that Dr. Valentine could borrow.”

He bowed then left them alone.

A maid appeared only a moment later with the requested towel. Orlando took it and wiped his face and toweled his hair before he undid his cravat and suitcoat.

“I will take those, Dr. Valentine, and put them in front of a fire to dry,” the maid promised.

He nodded.

“I fear your boots may be ruined,” Blythe said when she noted that they were just as wet as the rest of him.

“I would like to remove them, if that would be acceptable.”

“Yes, of course,” she insisted.

He walked to a chair that sat just inside the entry and settled down and removed first one boot and then the other before discarding his waistcoat.

“I will get you a brandy,” Blythe offered and rushed off to the back of the drawing room. The footman who was waiting at his station poured it for her and she returned to Orlando just as a footman was bringing dry clothing.

“Is there somewhere I can change?”

Blythe’s face heated. She certainly could not expect him to strip in the entry then dress in dry clothing.

“Yes, of course.” But where. There were only common rooms down here. “The gambling room. There is no one in there and you should have privacy.”

Orlando chuckled and shook his head before he stood, walked to the room where gambling took place and shut the door.

She then instructed the servants to lock the front door and extinguish lights at the front of the house as it was unlikely there would be guests tonight.

She then went into the drawing room and filled two plates to overflowing with food, one for her and one for Orlando, then instructed the maid and footman to remove the rest to the kitchen and eat whatever could not be kept for tomorrow.

Then she settled on the settee and waited.

* * *

The clothing was bigger than what he wore, but it wasn’t falling off him and more importantly, it was dry.

He knew that it was dangerous to be out in the storm, but he had no intention of waiting another night to see Blythe. He also wasn’t surprised that no one else was here, which made it perfect for a private conversation.

When he left the gambling room barefooted and wearing only trousers and a linen shirt, he crossed to the drawing room.

“I fixed you a plate of food.” Blythe smiled and gestured to a low table before the settee and chairs. He took the chair directly across from her. “Thank you.”

“I have decided to close Athena’s Salon for the night,” she advised him.

“I hope you are not going to make me leave.” He wouldn’t, even if she wanted him to.

“Of course not.” Blythe chuckled.

They ate in silence as the servants cleared the dishes from the buffet then cleaned the table and one by one, they disappeared except for one footman who remained behind the counter ready to serve any beverage they wished.

“You are dismissed, Dennis. We will not need you tonight.”

He stepped around the bar and nodded. “Thank you, Lady Blythe.”

“Enjoy supper in the kitchen.”

And then, they were alone. “I am glad that we will be able to continue our discussion in private.”

Lightning flashed, momentarily lighting up the front of the house before a loud clap of thunder followed.

Blythe jumped.

There had been rumblings while he hurried, traveling here, but the storm had definitely increased.

Rain and hail pelted the windows and dampness from the outside seemed to seep into the room.

“You said that you came to look for me. I believe that is where we left off.”

Blythe frowned, questions in her blue eyes. Did she not recall their last conversation?

“I wanted to know why you left me without even saying goodbye. You said that it was because you were free, widowed, but you also claimed that you wanted to, and tried and went to find me. I know that you did not because I would have remembered seeing you. So, Blythe, why did you leave me without saying goodbye?”

She rose from her seat and crossed to the bar where she poured herself a glass of brandy and returned with the bottle.

“Four days after the Battle of Waterloo I went to find you. I assumed you were unharmed but could not be certain. We were getting word of so many casualties that I needed to know that you were well.” She took a sip from her glass.

“But, before I could find you, I encountered a man from my husband’s regiment and that was when I learned that John was dead. ”

“Therefore, you were free and there was no reason to remain in Brussels.” He hadn’t wanted his tone to be harsh, but he was still angry that he returned to the room they had shared to learn that it was occupied by another couple, and the look in Mrs. Dismet’s eyes when she realized that Blythe had left him, her husband.

“I wanted to tell you that as well, but I will be honest that I was shocked, surprised. John had always managed to avoid danger so I never really thought he would be killed. For all I knew he had already sold his commission and was gone before the battle began, so it took a moment…more than a moment to realize that I was a widow.”

Orlando could understand her shock, but that was not an excuse for her leaving him without a word.

“I then went to look for you and was directed to The Farm of Mont St. Jean.”

Orlando groaned. He knew what she had witnessed before she even reached the building. They were still removing bullets from men who had been shot.

“There were so many men, injured and suffering. The blood, stench, cries of pain…anguish…despair and fear.”

“You should not have been forced to witness such.” She was the sheltered daughter of a duke and even if she had followed the drum, she still should have been protected from the realities of war.

“I wanted to stop and give comfort, but there were so many and it was so overwhelming that I couldn’t…

I was lost…helpless…Then I saw you exit the building, your hands, arms and chest covered in blood, face pale and drawn.

You looked as if you’d aged at least ten years since I had last seen you only a sennight earlier. ”

“I am sorry you witnessed the horror.”

“I am not,” she admitted. “I think it helped me understand.”

“What?”

“You were needed. Your work was important and I was…a sheltered daughter of a duke, ignorant of realities. I attended balls and danced and wore pretty gowns while you prepared for what was to come because you had seen it before.”

“You were more than that,” he insisted.

Blythe shook her head as a tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. “I hadn’t understood then. I treasured our time together, our conversations, sharing of secrets, but each time word was received of Napoleon’s troops, you grew more concerned and tense. You had nightmares.”

“Is that what sent you away?” he asked quietly.

“No. I realized that what we had, what I thought we had, and my attachment to you was not real.”

He pulled back.

I was hiding in an inn because I was afraid of what people might say or think of me.

I didn’t want to be gossiped about. My days were spent reading while I waited for you to return, where we would spend the evenings, as if we were the only two people in the world.

” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

“I did not want it to end. At one point it changed from me hiding to me not wanting to be parted from you or leave the comfortable corner we shared.”

She got up and began to pace. “I knew that it was wrong, Orlando. I had all these emotions, for you, but it was wrong, and then when I found out John died, I was eaten with guilt because I had wished that he would just go away so that my situation could change.” She swiped a tear away. “I never meant for him to be killed.”

If only she would have stayed long enough to explain to him. Things would have been so different for them.

“You could have waited. You could have told me goodbye.”

“Do you not see?”

“No. I do not.”

“You are so much more worthy than I could ever be.”

Where the blazes did she get such an idea?

“Your obligation to me, not that you truly had one, had come to an end. My husband was dead and with my own eyes, I saw how important you were. Far more than the pampered daughter of a duke who really served no purpose other than to be wife and possibly mother. I had lived in a world sheltered from reality where as you…I was nothing and I realized that, while you…you were and are so much more than any lord or son of gentry I had ever met, combined into one man. You did not need me. You never really did. It was your kindness that brought you to my side, but I was inconsequential, a nothing, which I realized as I took in the world that you commanded.”

“I never felt that way, Blythe.”

“Maybe not at that moment, but you would have in time. Your work was too important and I knew that when everything was settled that you would see me as nothing but a sheltered, spoiled lady who couldn’t begin to understand the grim reality that others are forced to endure.”

“I would not have,” he insisted.

“But that is how I saw myself,” she nearly whispered.

“You should have told me.”

“I did.”

Orlando pulled back. “I would have recalled if we had such a conversation.

“It was in my letter. A very long letter where I told you everything and explained and set you free of your obligation to me.”

“What letter?” he practically yelled.

Blythe stopped and turned to him. “The letter that I left for you on the bed before I left.”

“When I finally returned to the inn, the room had been cleaned and lent to someone else. Anything you may have left was gone.”

Blythe placed a hand against her heart. “Why would they destroy a letter meant for you.”

“They likely believed that I had left it behind at the time,” he reasoned. “Mrs. Desmit said that you had packed all of our belongings and left.”

Blythe’s eyes widened with horror as she placed a hand over her open mouth.

“The letter explained everything, Orlando. I would never have left you without explanation.” She sank onto the settee.

“I wrote a very long letter explaining. I swear that I did. I needed you to know and I needed to come home. I told you that if you wanted to continue our friendship or wished to seek me out that I would first go to my brother, Seth’s home, but if I was not there, he would know where to find me.

” Tears filled her eyes. “When you never called on me, I assumed that I had been correct in my assessment and you no longer felt any obligation toward me.”

Orlando believed her. Blythe would not lie to him about something so important.

If only he would have found her when he returned to England and asked then. Why had he asked instead of assumed?

Now he was angry, but not at her, at himself, and Mrs. Desmit who was the one who probably tossed the letter instead of giving it to him. Except, she hadn’t expected him to return after Blythe had gone.

Lightning flashed followed by rumbles of thunder. Something hit the side of the house and Blythe jumped.