Her headache had only improved somewhat, and the pressure was still there. And, as the day continued, the weather deteriorated and Blythe wondered if anyone would visit Athena’s Salon tonight. Not just Orlando, but anyone.
The wind gusted with enough force that trees swayed and limbs flew until they fell to the street while rain was sometimes accompanied by hail. If it were her, she wouldn’t leave a warm, safe home for intellectual conversation or gambling.
She had instructed the footman to gather the spare umbrellas to place by the door, something that was a habit when it was simply raining, so that the members could be sheltered from the elements as they exited their carriages until they stepped inside.
The footman stood waiting and watching.
He would normally stand outside, dry under the portico, with the umbrellas but Blythe had wanted him to remain indoors where it was safer, so he watched from the window beside the door.
Blythe wandered into the drawing room to note that all was prepared, even the buffet. Had she known that the weather was going to be miserable, she would have asked Cook not to prepare so much food. But nobody had known that until preparations had been underway.
“I have not seen such weather before, Lady Blythe,” George observed when she returned to the entry.
“Neither have I.”
They both nearly jumped when there was pounding on the door and George quickly opened it to reveal Orlando, with his wet hair dripping, as well as his clothing.
“The rain is so bad that you were drenched coming from a carriage?” There certainly would be no guests tonight.
“I had to walk. There are no hackneys out and I do not own a carriage.”
“You walked?” she asked in alarm. Wasn’t it dangerous to be out in this wind and rain?
“I told you that I would return tonight and I keep my promises.” He grinned.
“George, please have a maid bring a towel and see if any of the servants have dry clothing that Dr. Valentine could borrow.”
He bowed then left them alone.
A maid appeared only a moment later with the requested towel. Orlando took it and wiped his face and toweled his hair before he undid his cravat and suitcoat.
“I will take those, Dr. Valentine, and put them in front of a fire to dry,” the maid promised.
He nodded.
“I fear your boots may be ruined,” Blythe said when she noted that they were just as wet as the rest of him.
“I would like to remove them, if that would be acceptable.”
“Yes, of course,” she insisted.
He walked to a chair that sat just inside the entry and settled down and removed first one boot and then the other before discarding his waistcoat.
“I will get you a brandy,” Blythe offered and rushed off to the back of the drawing room. The footman who was waiting at his station poured it for her and she returned to Orlando just as a footman was bringing dry clothing.
“Is there somewhere I can change?”
Blythe’s face heated. She certainly could not expect him to strip in the entry then dress in dry clothing.
“Yes, of course.” But where. There were only common rooms down here. “The gambling room. There is no one in there and you should have privacy.”
Orlando chuckled and shook his head before he stood, walked to the room where gambling took place and shut the door.
She then instructed the servants to lock the front door and extinguish lights at the front of the house as it was unlikely there would be guests tonight. She then went into the drawing room and filled two plates to overflowing with food, one for her and one for Orlando, then instructed the maid and footman to remove the rest to the kitchen and eat whatever could not be kept for tomorrow.
Then she settled on the settee and waited.
The clothing was bigger than what he wore, but it wasn’t falling off him and more importantly, it was dry.
