“I am certain they will fit in very well with our other clientele.”
“Yes, of course.” Blythe forced a smile and left the office.
Lavinia was a member so it was possible that her husband was curious, and if Orlando had been sitting there, he might have made the same request.
Or did he want entrance because of her?
Oh, she wanted that to be the reason.
Blythe returned to her home and packed a trunk with necessities that she could keep at Athena’s Salon and prepared a list of other items that she would need to shop for.
All the while, memories of Brussels crowded her brain. She had changed so much in just a month.
She had also been a coward and selfish.
She had coveted and had fallen in love with a man who was not her husband.
It was only when she saw Orlando, faced with hundreds of injured and dying men that she realized how insignificant she truly was. Her husband had tried to tell her, but when she left seclusion and viewed reality, she came to realize that much of what he said was true. What good was she if she could not help anyone, most of all Orlando when he needed someone the most?
In retrospect, her actions in leaving had been rash, which she could see clearly now. But learning that John had been killed, the realization that she was a widow and then to witness the tragic results of war had been so much that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She’d been emotional and confused and made assumptions that may not have been correct but by the time she came to realize that fact, she was already dressed in black and sitting in her brother’s parlor and hoping that Orlando would call on her when he returned so that she could better explain.
He never did.
After he had rested, the first thing that Orlando had done was visit Demetrius since his new wife, Lavinia, was now the sister-in-law to one of the owners of Athena’s Salon. It was through her that he needed permission to gain access.
If that was where Blythe spent her evenings, then he needed access.
Further, the first thing he intended to do was clear up any misconception of why he had been at a brothel. She had dismissed him so quickly and claimed him to be a rake. There had been little warmth and he had difficulty reconciling her with the woman he had spent nearly every evening with tucked away in a cozy chamber at an inn in Brussels.
They had shared so much of themselves, she even knew his secrets—his family history that was never shared with anyone and she had accepted him without judgement.
Or so he had thought.
If she had left Brussels and him because of his family and what his mother had been forced to become, then he was better knowing now and then he could forget Blythe forever.
“Have you called on Blythe?” Isabella asked as she stepped into his office.
“She still thinks that I am a rake disguised as a doctor.”
“What other interesting observations did she make during your visit?” Isabella chuckled.
“I did not call on her.”
“Then how do you know she still holds the same opinion?”
“She saw me leave Madam Devine’s.”
“And she confronted you. I would take that as an excellent sign that she may still care.”
“She did not approach me. I found her in the flower market. That is where she had been when she saw me exit the brothel.”
“You could have explained.”
“I am not certain it would have made a difference.”
“I hope that you have not given up.”
“No. I still require answers…” As to why she truly left.
