“Yes, of course, Orlando.”
He then stepped up to the door and opened it before escorting Blythe inside.
An older woman, grey hair frizzled, came hustling out from a room further down the corridor.
“You must be Doctor and Mrs. Valentine,” she greeted. “It was very thoughtful of your husband to find you a room so that you can escape a tent.”
“It is,” Blythe murmured.
“Now, go on up to your chamber and get settled. Supper will be served in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Orlando returned. “I look forward to eating a meal prepared in a kitchen instead of over a campfire.”
Except Blythe was not looking forward to dinner. What if there were people who recognized her?
Orlando led her up the stairs and to the last door on the left, number twelve, unlocked it and stood back so that she could enter.
He had not bothered to look at the room when he had been here earlier and was pleased to discover a large chamber with a window that looked out on the drive. There was a chair and table just beneath it and the bed appeared large and comfortable. Directly across from it was a large armoire and dressing table. In the corner was a changing screen for privacy.
“This is very nice,” Blythe said as she walked to the window. “I do not know what I was expecting, but I am pleased with these accommodations.
“I will remain until you are settled and more comfortable and I was being truthful about wanting a good meal.”
Blythe chuckled. “You may need to take that meal without me.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“I am afraid of who else might be at the table.”
“I am quite certain that nobody staying at this inn has any idea what happened to you today or the truth about us.”
She winced. “That is not what I am worried about.”
“How else would you know them?”
“From before I married John.”
How could Blythe possibly know strangers here? The only British who had come to Brussels were those from Society and he wasn’t even certain the people he saw today were even British.
“John met me during my second Season.” She turned and pulled the curtains back. “My father warned me not to marry John. I was foolish and thought that he loved me when he was only interested in a connection to better his circumstances.”
“Connection?” Who was she before she became Mrs. Clay?
“Yes. John thought that by marrying one of the daughters of the Duke of Arscott that he could sell his commission and that his life would suddenly become easier.”
Duke of Arscott! Blythe was the daughter of a bloody duke.
Had her husband lost his mind before he sold her? Orlando could not even comprehend the repercussions of such an action but upon his return to England, the lieutenant’s life would certainly not become easier.
“I cannot believe your husband would be so foolish.” Orlando pushed his fingers through his hair. “No wife should be sold and so easily discarded, but to do so to the daughter of a duke…”
Blythe turned to face Orlando. “John no longer cares because he has no intention of returning to England. He did not gain what he had hoped when we married and will seek his riches elsewhere,” she said quietly.
“You are better off without him in your life,” Orlando reminded her and believed that to the depth of his soul even if she was still marriaged to the blackguard. “You deserve far better and not just because you are the daughter of a duke and a lady, but because you are also a woman who should be cherished and protected.”
Blythe glanced down. “I am afraid that I will come face to face with someone I knew before I wed, and that I will not know how to explain why John is not here and why you are.”
He certainly could understand her concern. “Would you like me to see if I can learn the names of the guests?” It really shouldn’t be too difficult and he understood her concern.
