“No. Her father wouldn’t let her return, nor would he support her and my mother was forced to…forced...”
“Do your younger siblings have different fathers?”
“Yes. She was given little choice or we would have starved.”
She gave a slight nod and he knew that Blythe had concluded that his mother had turned to prostitution for survival.
“Why do you go by the name Valentine when your surname is Jones?”
“My mother passed right after Perdita, was born. Demetrius and Benedick did their best to provide, by way of being pickpockets and stealing from fruit vendors, which they were very good at, while I watched over the youngest.”
“How old were they?”
“Demetrius was nine at the time, Benedick eight and I was seven.” He paused for a moment. “Ten siblings born in ten years. I think that is what hastened my mother’s death, along with near starvation and illness.”
For a moment he was lost in the memories of the shabby one room in a boarding house where they lived.
“My brothers picked the wrong pocket and was caught by Vicar Grant. He insisted on taking them to speak to our mother. They tried to run but he held on tight to the two of them, so they took him to where we lived. He was appalled, especially when he realized that we had no parents and were doing our best, even taking care of a newborn.”
“He took you in?”
“He first tried to return us to our grandfather, who would not have us. But, to keep him quiet, it was arranged that the vicar be given a parish far away, so he and his wife raised us.”
“That was very kind of them but still does not explain Valentine.”
“Vicar Grant’s wife had a sister who had married a Valentine. They were missionaries who had gone to India. Right before we were found, and before Vicar Grant had learned, Mrs. Grant received a letter informing her that her sister, brother-in-law and children were killed in an uprising, so they decided to tell everyone that we were the orphans of her sister so that we would have better opportunities instead of facing a hard life because half of us were the sons of a stable hand and the other half didn’t know who the fathers were. The only difficulty was that we had to remain hidden for a time because with Perdita being newly born, nobody would believe that she was a niece born in Indian when it usually took four to five months to sail from India.”
“Was it difficult being hidden away?”
Orlando snorted. “We had soft beds, warm food and a clean place to live, something none of us had ever experienced. We did not care if they intended to keep us in their attic forever because we were safe for the first time in our lives.”
That was the secret they all held and he waited for Blythe to recoil in disgust. She was the daughter of a duke and even though she had followed the drum, Blythe couldn’t know what it was like to suffer hardships of not knowing when or where her next meal would come from.
She sat up and placed at hand against his cheek. “I am sorry that you carry this burden, and the same for your siblings.”
He placed a hand over hers.
Sympathy was in her eyes, and he wanted to trust in her words, but he also believed that once she had time to really think about his past that she would likely leave him. He was even less worthy of her than he ever was before. Not that she could have been his, but Orlando wanted her to be.
Chapter Thirteen
Blythe knew that she would not see Orlando until very late, but she was determined to wait up for him. She wanted to hear all about the ball. A few of the couples at the inn had also received invitations and she had bid them a good night as they left.
It only occurred to her after they were gone that they may see Orlando with Isabella and would likely return to gently tell her that Orlando had escorted another woman to the ball. Neither had mentioned that his sister had followed the drum mainly because it would be too confusing to have a wife and a sister and then they would wonder why the sister wasn’t given a room at the inn and just the wife.
This was what came from telling falsehoods.
But she was prepared with answers when they came.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, and it wasn’t Orlando who woke her, but loud excited voices from below.
“News arrived near midnight, I believe,” Blythe heard one of the women say as she came down the stairs. Oh, she wished she could remember their names but they had not been committed to memory after introductions and she hadn’t heard names since. She also did not spend much time with the other guests either but stayed in the gardens or in her chamber and read.
“What news?” Mr. Desmit asked.
“Napoleon! He is here.”
Blythe clutched the balustrade because she feared that her knees would give way.
