With that thought and a deep breath she returned to the drawing room.
Orlando had attended the Venetian Breakfast to celebrate his brother’s good fortune, which may turn out to be his as well.
Except he also feared that when Blythe stepped from the drawing room she would not return. She had lost some of the color in her cheeks, but she had to know that he would never betray her trust.
Unless she also had hoped never to see him again.
She had left him without a word, after all.
He glanced back at the entrance just in time to see her return and join the woman who had accompanied her. Orlando did not know who the other woman was, nor did he care.
He then looked at his sister, who murmured something to Storm, and the two began to cross the room toward Blythe. Not one to be left out, and desperately wanting to speak with Blythe again, not that he would demand answers at a Venetian Breakfast, Orlando circled the drawing room until he came up at the side of his sister as she reached Blythe.
There was wariness in Blythe’s eyes as if she feared what Isabella or he might say.
“Blythe,” Isabella greeted in a familiar manner that spoke of an earlier friendship. “I do not believe I have seen you since Brussels.”
Since so many in Society had flocked to the city after Napoleon’s first abdication, anyone listening could assume that Blythe had been one of the visitors, unless they already knew that her husband had been in the cavalry.
“It is good to see you again, Isabella,” Blythe returned, yet her tone was strained and voice tight.
“May I introduce my husband, Captain Nathaniel Storm.”
There was almost the hint of a smile at the name. Did she recall that the only reason he had attended the Duchess of Richmond’s ball was because Storm wanted Isabella there?
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Blythe murmured.
“And my brother.” Isabella gestured to Orlando who offered a brief bow.
“Dr. Valentine,” she nodded.
The woman beside Blythe gently nudged her arm. He supposed it was rather rude to ignore her.
“Lady Andover,” Blythe introduced. “This is Isabella Storm, her husband, Captain Nathaiel Storm, and her brother, Dr. Orlando Valentine.”
“Ah, a relation to the groom?” Lady Andover asked with interest.
“He is our brother,” Isabella answered.
“How are you acquainted with Blythe. I fear that she has never spoken of you.”
Nor would she, he supposed.
“Brussels,” Isabella answered. “Her husband, Lt. Clay was with the cavalry. My brother was a doctor and I had joined him. A sister following the drum instead of a wife,” Isabella chuckled. “It is where I met my husband and Blythe.”
“You had mentioned you followed the drum,” Lady Andover said to Blythe before returning her attention to Isabella. “However, she refuses to speak of her adventures and only told us that she lost her husband at Waterloo.” At least the last was said with some sadness.
“It was a chance meeting while we were in Brussels,” Isabella answered.
“Mrs. Storm, you must visit Athena’s Salon,” Her Grace, the Duchess of Claybrook, announced, as she joined them. “I am certain that Mrs. Clay will make you feel right at home since she had managed the salon in mine and Tessa’s absence.”
Orlando had heard of Athena’s Salon but he had not been interested in knowing more, until now.
“I am simply a hostess on the nights that I am there,” Blythe insisted.
“You are more, which we need to discuss,” Her Grace insisted. “Could we meet there tomorrow afternoon.”
Blythe nodded. “I would be happy to.”
