Page 8 of Rake in Disguise (Wicked Widows’ League #33)

Chapter Six

It was in that moment that Blythe realized that she was not at all upset about the loss of her husband.

He had been selfish, cold, demanding, and grew more difficult the longer they were on the Continent.

John had assumed that Father would have a change of heart when he realized that his daughter might be in danger, but the request to return home never came.

It was then that John had started to blame her for every perceived transgression.

At first, she apologized and tried to make the situation better.

She sided with him when he blamed others, instead of her for a change.

She had wanted to have a harmonious marriage and if that meant keeping John happy then she would do so.

Until nothing was ever good enough.

She was never good enough and after a year, realized that she never would be but she was stuck with him for better or worse.

Except, today she had been freed of the misery.

The worst part was the humiliation and her fear, not the loss of John.

Her eyes met Orlando’s. The man who had not only rescued her but freed her.

He already knew the worst. He had witnessed, then participated, but she couldn’t be angry with him for that, especially since he had been nothing but kind to a complete stranger.

Blythe trusted him.

She may learn in the future that was a mistake, but she also had little choice now and it would be nice to have a…friend.

“I should be honest,” she said quietly. “It is wrong of me, I know that it is, but I am glad to be free of John.” She abruptly stood and walked to the opposite side of the chamber, unable to look at him. “You must think that I am a horrible person.”

“No,” he answered. “You owe him nothing. He may be your husband but he abandoned you and relinquished any rights he has to your affection or good opinion.”

That was exactly what he did. John had deserted her so why should she suffer any guilt for lack of charitable thoughts for him?

Orlando pulled a watch from inside his suitcoat. “It is nearly midnight.”

Blythe had no idea it was already so late.

“I assume that everyone has retired.”

She suffered the briefest moment of panic at being left alone but quickly recovered. It would be good to have the time and quiet to consider her options and her future.

He stepped to the door. If I hear anyone about or if anyone is in the lower rooms, I will make an excuse and return. He pulled a cheroot from the inside of his coat.

Blythe nodded. “Wait at the window. If you see me walking down the lane then you will know that it is safe for you to retire.” He then placed the key on the dressing table. “Keep the room locked when I am not here.”

“Yes, of course,” she murmured not truly wanting him to leave yet.

She may wish to be alone with her thoughts but she also feared where they would take her.

“Until tomorrow, Blythe. Sleep well.”

Then he was gone and she rushed forward to lock the door then returned to the window and waited.

The moments ticked by slowly but then she saw him emerge below.

Orlando glanced up at her chamber window, nodded, then turned and strolled away as he lit the cheroot.

She assumed that was for anyone else who may be watching.

They would assume that he planned to return when she knew that he would not.

She blew out a sigh and prepared for bed. Once she was in her nightrail, Blythe sat at the dressing table and brushed out her hair then braided it to avoid tangles then stared at her reflection.

It had been so long since she had truly looked into a mirror.

She smoothed a finger over the delicate wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and by her mouth.

They had not existed previously. She may be only three and twenty but these past years had not been easy, especially compared to her life before she had met John.

There may be signs of age, premature evidence, but there was also wisdom in her eyes that had been lacking when all she knew was her home and London.

She had matured greatly and she was not so vain that she was going to be bothered by the evidence of the life she had so far lived. She had learned much, and now she was free.

Free! She was free of a husband who thought only of himself. She was free of Society for the time being. Yes, she could join those in Brussels and hope to keep her secret, but did she truly want to?

Those two years that she had attended a Season she might as well have been on display. The first daughter of the Duke of Arscott to be presented. Every choice of dress, hairstyles and reaction was remarked upon.

Blythe did not want to return to that life any more than she wanted to return to John. She was now tucked away in an inn on the outskirts of Brussels where nobody knew who she truly was and Blythe believed that she was going to like that very much.

* * *

Orlando took his time walking back to his tent.

Mrs. John Clay had formerly been Lady Blythe Claxton, daughter of the Duke of Arscott.

He was still shocked by the revelation.

The most beautiful woman that he had ever seen was the daughter of a duke and discarded by her husband, a coward.

Unbelievable! Yet, it was true.

He had no doubt that had anyone else been aware of who Blythe truly was there would have been no bidding for her for fear of the Duke of Arscott’s wrath.

Or, they would have made a bid to save her and treat her better in hope of the duke’s thankful reward.

Those men would have been using her just as her husband had hoped to better his circumstances.

Orlando shook head and quietly stepped into his tent, careful not to disturb Isabella who slept on the other side of the makeshift curtain that separated their sides. Though, as was a habit and noting that there was no light, he did peek around the blanket to make certain she was asleep on her cot.

When he was usually away from the tent and this late at night it was because he was not far away and treating injured soldiers.

He was also confident that nobody would do Isabella any harm.

She had earned the regard of too many men that if anyone were to harm her, they would be dealt with swiftly and severely.

However, he had never been gone this late or been so far away and he wanted to assure himself that she was well, which she was so he let the blanket drop and removed his suitcoat, waistcoat and boots before lying down on his cot, and doubted that he would get much sleep.

He was wrong because the next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to find that it was already light out and Isabella standing beside his cot.

“Well?”

He blinked at her. “Well, what?”

“You were gone all night. I grew concerned.”

“Not too much, I assume, since you were asleep when I returned. Hardly fretting.” He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “It also was not all night.”

“Yes well, worrying can tire a person out.” She smirked.

He rose and crossed to the table where a pitcher and bowl sat to splash water on his face.

“Yes, well, it was still very late when you were only to escort her to an inn.” Her tone hinted that their evening had been more than what would have been appropriate.

“She is still married to the lieutenant. Everything between us is innocent.”

“It is a shame that she is,” Isabella grumbled. “I like her and I think you do too.”

“I saw someone who needed protecting.” He didn’t dare admit that he had admired and desired Blythe long before the auction took place.

He motioned for Isabella to turn her back so that he could change his shirt. “Even if she was free and I was interested, it would be impossible.”

“Why?” she asked out of curiosity.

“Did she tell you anything about herself while I was away yesterday?”

“No.”

“You can turn around.” He was dressed and he needed Isabella to understand what he was about to tell her. It was also imperative that nobody hear him so he stepped closer. “After today, you and I will never speak of this again. Not Blythe, the sale, anything. It will be as if it hadn’t happened.”

She frowned and studied him.

“Not even when we are alone in this tent,” he added. “After what I tell you, it is never to be mentioned again.”

“It is not a secret,” she reminded him.

“In time it will be forgotten.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. What he hoped was likely impossible but Blythe would not have her life and true freedom back until everyone forgot, if that were possible.

“You do not want anyone to know you bought a wife?”

“I do not care what anyone thinks of me. I will not have Blythe further shamed.”

“Dear brother, you do care for her.” Isabella grinned, her grey eyes light with teasing.

“I do not even know her but that does not mean she deserved to be auctioned off like a horse,” he retorted.

“I do agree with you on that point. Besides, I assume that she wants to return home. I would in her situation.”

Orlando cocked his head and snorted. “Truly? Your family would ask where your husband was and what do you think your brothers would do if they learned he sold you?”

Isabella’s eyes widened.

“Mercutio would likely kill the man with a single, well-placed fist.”

“No, I suppose that would be news that I would not want to share.”

“That is just your family, I cannot imagine how Blythe’s father would respond.”

“No differently, I suppose,” Isabella decided.

“Yes, well, you are not the daughter of the Duke of Arscott.”

Isabella gasped as her eyes widened again. “Are you certain?”

“Unless she lied to me, but what reason would she have to do so?”

“Is her husband a fool?”

“Apparently.”

“Is that why you want it kept a secret? Because of who her father is?”

“It is more for her then anyone else. How many men who witnessed the auction are also second or third sons of lords who will return to ballrooms in London when this bloody war is over? I do not want the gossip of what happened yesterday to follow her into Society.”

Orlando did not know why he cared so much but he did. He just knew that he needed to protect Blythe, vulnerable and alone, the best that he could.