“Good!” Her Grace smiled.
“What exactly is Athena’s Salon?” Orlando asked. “I have heard the name but little more.”
“Likely because you are a man,” Lady Andover laughed.
“It is a gentlewoman’s club,” Her Grace explained. “Gentlemen have White’s, Boodles, and many others. We have Athena’s. Any woman is granted entrance. Men, however, must earn the privilege to cross our threshold because we host discussions on the latest scientific discoveries, literature, art and politics. Many men do not believe that women should discuss such matters.”
Her eyes narrowed on Orlando as if to challenge him to support such a belief.
“I have four younger sisters, Your Grace, and believe me, if I thought a woman had no right to opinions, thought or discussions, I would not be long for this world.”
“He does speak the truth.” Isabella chuckled.
“It was good to see you again, Isabella, Captain Storm and Dr. Valentine, but I must speak with Lavinia,” Blythe said and before Orlando could utter another word, she had walked away and directly toward Orlando’s new sister-in-law. Lady Andover frowned, then followed.
And, in that moment, Orlando knew that he would find a way to gain access to Athena’s Salon, especially since that was where he would find Blythe.
It wasn’t because he wanted to pursue her, but because he wanted answers as to why she left without a word or goodbye.
Chapter Sixteen
Blythe could tell by the interest and intrigue in Elizabeth’s eyes that she had questions about Isabella, Captain Storm and Orlando, which was Blythe’s own fault. Elizabeth was observant and noted her shock early in the evening, and intelligent enough to know that it was because of those three.
Thankfully Elizabeth asked no questions while at the Venetian Breakfast, and was willing to leave early, after they had spoken with Lavinia and gained her promise to provide further details as to how her marriage came about at a later time.
Elizabeth had also been silent in the carriage while they returned to Blythe’s home. However, once they arrived, Elizabeth exited as well and told the driver to return the following day to collect her because she and Blythe were going to enjoy a dinner, wine and discuss the future.
She didn’t know why Elizabeth would offer such a detailed explanation to the servant, but she had, and likely more for the benefit of Blythe, in telling her that she was not leaving until her curiosity had been satisfied.
“Tell me about him,” Elizabeth practically ordered after they settled into the sitting room.
“Who?” Blythe asked innocently.
“Perhaps all three.” She tilted her head. “Though I suspect the more interesting story is whatever occurred between you and Dr. Valentine.
“Nothing.” Blythe shrugged.
It was not a lie. Nothing had occurred between them, yet her world had been altered because of him.
“What are you keeping to yourself, Blythe?”
“Why do you think I am?” she countered.
“You went deathly pale at the Venetian Breakfast, and then I looked to what had your attention only to find Dr. Valentine also staring at you right before you fled the drawing room.
“I went to the retiring room,” Blythe reminded her friend. “Hardly unusual.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and leaned back against the settee and brought the glass of wine to her lips. “There is something. A secret, and I want to know what it is.” She then sipped her drink and waited.
“There are some matters that are too personal even for friends.”
“Ah, it is one of those types of secrets.” She grinned. “Were you wicked in Brussels?”
“I was married in Brussels,” she reminded Elizabeth.
“That does not mean that you could not have also been wicked.”
Blythe stood and crossed to the window. “It is more shame… embarrassment… humiliation…improper.”
