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.”
