She reminded him that she had money tucked away from the sale of her paintings, but he insisted she use that for additional supplies and whatever else she fancied.
One thing she’d been thrilled about was when he told her he’d arranged with his father to set up an office in Bath to oversee their business interests there, which meant she would not be forced to move to London.
He also assured her that while she was busy doing all sorts of women wedding things, he would be searching to purchase a townhouse for them in Bath.
That was a huge relief and she loved him for that. When that thought crossed her mind so easily, she realized it was true. She had fallen in love with the man who helped rescue her from a horrible fate.
A true knight in shining armor.
When she asked about his Parliamentary duties, he said they would have to spend time in London during the Season—but only while Parliament was in session. Since he was willing to move to Bath, that was the least she could do for him since his duties to Parliament were important to him.
She looked up as the door opened and Mr. Finch entered. He was a nice man in his middle years. He was married for many years, but his wife died of a wasting disease two years before. She often thought he had purchased the bookstore to keep him busy and not dwelling on his late wife.
“I think I will go to the tea shop at the end of the street and buy a bowl of soup for lunch,” Lizbeth said as she walked up to greet Mr. Finch. “If that is all right with you.”
“Yes, yes. Please do go my girl. You always look to me like you need another meal.”
Lizbeth grinned at the man and went into the back of the store to get her cloak. “I shall return in about twenty minutes.”
He waved at her. “Take your time. I am fine here.”
She pulled the collar of her cloak close to her neck as she made her way down the street. The sunshine from earlier in the day had been slowly replaced with clouds and the threat of rain. The breeze that blew around her brought on shivers.
About three stores away from the tea shop, she walked past an alleyway and saw a quick movement to her right. As she turned, she was grabbed from behind, strong arms wrapping around her middle.
“Thought you would get away from us, didn’t you? No one escapes Joey Barton.”
Lizbeth opened her mouth to scream just as a heavy hand covered her mouth. She was picked up and carried to a coach. She looked around frantically but there was no one nearby on the street. A couple of streets down she saw several people, but they were not looking in her direction.
She kicked back with her foot, trying to hit the man holding her in the legs, but he managed to dodge her strikes. Another man jumped into the fray to be quickly subdued when she struck out with her foot and hit him in the head. He went down like a bag of flour, slamming his head on the pavement.
Still kicking, scratching and fighting, she was ignominiously tossed into the carriage, landing on her hands and knees. The door slammed and the vehicle rolled away.
Lizbeth reached for the door to jump out but was pulled back by her hair. Apparently, Joey Barton was not the man who’d taken her because he sat on the padded bench and stared at her. He nodded to whoever it was holding her hair and he released her.
“If you make one sound, it will be your last.” Barton pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her heart. “I am not fond of losing my women.”
“I am not your woman.”
He nodded again to the man behind her who backhanded her in the face.
Barton picked imaginary lint from his dark wool greatcoat. “Easy, Jenks, we don’t want her taking another vacation while her bruises heal. She has a lot of time to make up for.” He glanced down at her hand. “My, my. Did we get ourselves engaged?”
“None of your bloody business.”
Barton tsked. “Such language. Although there are plenty of customers who like a woman who fights and uses foul language. We will have to make sure you know all the proper terms.”
“I would kill myself before I return to that brothel.”
“Oh, my dear. Do not trouble yourself. You are not going back to the brothel in London.”
Something in his eyes scared her more than anything that had happened so far.
“No, no. We want to make sure this time you aren’t able to have your lover rescue you. We are on our way to Bristol. There is a fine ship there awaiting your arrival.”
Her eyes grew wide and her heart pounded so hard she thought it would jump from her chest. “Where are you taking me?”
“I am not taking you anywhere, sweets. But there is a captain on the ship we are headed to who will be sure you remain locked up until you arrive at The Penguin Brothel in Australia.”
Black dots danced in her eyes until complete darkness took over and she slumped to the floor.
Chapter 16
Marcus swung his leg over his horse and handed the reins to the groom at the mews behind the row of stores where Once Upon a Book was located. He hoped to entice Lizbeth to join him for lunch.
Since Lizbeth had accepted his marriage proposal, his spirits have never been higher. He was no fool and knew they had to go a long way before she would be comfortable with the marriage bed, but as he’d said many times, he was patient. And Lizbeth was well worth waiting for.
She was everything he would ever want in a wife. Aside from her beauty and physical appeal, she was smart, talented, sweet, and caring. She would be a wonderful mother when the time came.
He was whistling when he opened the door to the bookstore. Mr. Finch hurried up to him, anxiety written all over his face. “Thank goodness you are here, Mr. Mallory. I was about to see if I could find someone to send a note to you.”
A spasm of panic hit him, and he looked around the store for Lizbeth. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not absolutely certain something is wrong, but I am concerned. Miss Davenport left about an hour ago to walk to the end of the street where there is a café that she frequents to buy soup. However—”
Before the man had finished, Marcus was out the door and down the street. He came to a sliding stop in front of the café and flung the door open to see Stanley Maxim, the man Marcus was paying to follow Lizbeth, sitting in a chair with a bandage around his head, talking to Dr. Stevens. The panic increased. “What happened?” he asked the doctor.
Dr. Stevens offered him a warm smile. “Hello Mr. Mallory. Is this man a friend of yours? Because he needs—”
Marcus turned his attention to Maxim. “Where’s Miss Davenport?”
The doctor was wise enough to remain silent as Maxim began to speak. “Two men grabbed her, right in front of my eyes. She didn’t realize I was there to help her, and she kicked out at me and knocked me to the pavement where I smacked my head and was knocked out. When I woke up, they were gone.”
“Bloody hell!”
“May I help?” Dr. Stevens said.
“No. But thank you. Perhaps you can just see that Mr. Maxim gets home? I have an emergency on my hands.” No matter how hard Marcus fought the panic, it was beginning to overwhelm him. He had to calm down, get her back. He returned to the mews, grabbed his horse and headed for Mrs. O’Leary’s boarding house.
He pulled the reins to stop in front of the house and jumped off, leaving the animal at the edge of the pavement, knowing his well-trained horse would just stand there. Marcus bounded up the steps, shouting for Mrs. O’Leary, and banging on the door until it was finally opened by the startled doorman.
The same man from when he and Lizbeth had visited before glared at him. However, he was not in the mood for any sort of delay. He pushed his way in, looking around. “Where is Mrs. O’Leary?”
“Excuse me, sir—”
Marcus raced past him, shouting for Mrs. O’Leary. She wasn’t in any of the rooms on the ground floor, but completely oblivious to the man at the door’s threats, he sprinted up the stairs to the first floor, calling her name.
The woman came out of one of the bedro
oms, her eyes wide at seeing him opening and closing doors. “Mr. Mallory, I must ask you to leave. This is a respectable women’s boarding house and we do not allow men on this floor.”
He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back into the room she just left. “Someone took Miss Davenport. I want names, locations. Now!”
She drew herself up and glared at him. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
He’d never put his hands on a woman in anger in his entire life, but there was simply too much at stake. He pushed her up against the wall, his forearm against her throat. “I will kill you if you don’t help me.” God help him, he meant it, too.
She swallowed and gave a quick nod.
He leaned in farther. “Speak.”
Her face reddened. “Barton took her to Bristol.”
He frowned. “Bristol?”
“Yes. He’s putting her on a ship there to Australia.”
Australia? “Which ship? And when does it leave?”
“That I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
He pushed against her throat again. “Tell me.”
Tears came to her eyes and she grabbed his arm, trying to pull him way. “I swear. I don’t know.”
He was wasting time. She may or may not know, but short of strangling her he wasn’t going to get any more information out of the woman. He backed up and she slumped to the floor.
He practically flew down the steps, out the door, and thankfully his horse stood waiting for him. He jumped onto the horse and turned in the opposite direction from where he came. It took him only a few seconds to decide what to do next.
* * *
Once the carriage started to move from the front of the café, Joey Barton had the other man in the carriage tie Lizbeth’s hands behind her back, secure her ankles together with a piece of rope, and wrap a dirty, smelly cloth over her mouth. Every time she breathed in, the rancid smell of something terrible almost made her gag.
Which would be instant death because with her mouth covered, the vomit would have nowhere to go.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the reality of her situation. Marcus would never find her. He would be searching in London at the brothel and she would be on a ship headed to Australia. Gone from England long before he ever learned what had happened to her.
If he ever did learn.
Tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from the thought of being forced into a brothel once more, or the fact that she would never see Marcus again.
The man she loved.
Her knight in shining armor.
Marcus, my love. If I never see you again, please try to forget me and move on. But know I will always love you.
After a few minutes of wallowing in self-pity, the anger that had sustained her since her initial ordeal flared to life. She would not give up her one chance at happiness. Marcus was the perfect husband for her. He was kind, considerate and willing to help her work through her fear of intimacy. She would have to find a way to get out of this mess.
About three hours later, Lizbeth looked out the window of the carriage as it arrived at the Bristol docks. It had been a long, arduous ride while she had vacillated between grief and anger. The road was bumpy, and she had a hard time sitting up, but refused to lay down like an animal.
The men had been silent the entire ride.
The docks were busy, with men running up and down the gangplanks of the three ships docked there. Pallets of goods and food were loaded aboard one of the ships, with a great deal of cursing and shouting among the workers.
The carriage slowed down and came to a rolling stop. “Stay here with the girl. I’ll be right back.” Joey Barton climbed over her and stepped out of the carriage. Lizbeth looked over at the other man, who leered at her. She slid her bottom over, so she was tucked into the corner of the carriage.
He moved closer on the seat and licked his lips. “I’m gonna make sure Barton gives me a taste of you before he ships you off. I got a really good use for that mouth of yours.” He grabbed his crotch and she gagged, fighting to keep her stomach contents down.
Think, Lizbeth. Don’t be a victim again.
During the ride, she’d been tugging the frayed cloth they’d tied her hands with, and it had loosened a bit. Not enough to slip one of her hands out, but if she kept playing with it, perhaps it would just break.
She felt around with her fingers and touched the metal pin holding the door onto the carriage body. She shuffled back farther until she could rub the cloth over the metal.
Luckily, the man guarding her was busy looking out the window and didn’t notice her arm movements. She broke into a sweat as she continued to struggle with the cloth. The skin on her wrist screamed with pain as she continued to rub.
Her head jerked up to look at her guard as the cloth snapped. He continued to stare out the window, and he hadn’t noticed the movement when her arms moved forward as the cloth broke.
Lizbeth took a deep breath and thought about her situation. Her hands were free, but her ankles were tied. There was no chance of running, and she imagined hopping away was not her best means of escape.
In fact, that vision lightened her mood a bit.
The guard’s eyes grew wide and he moved to the door and opened it. The sound of running, shouting, and then a pistol being fired filled the air. He looked over at her, as if making a decision. “You ain’t worth my arse, girl.”
With those words, he stumbled from the carriage and ran, the open carriage door swinging back and forth as he disappeared from view.
* * *
Marcus took a chance on Nick not wanting to spend too much time away from his new wife and arrived at his townhouse as soon as he left the bookstore. If anyone could help with this, it was Nick Smith.
Marcus was welcomed in and directed to the drawing room. After pacing for about three minutes—which seemed like ten—Nick and Pamela both hurried into the room. The flush on Pamela’s face and the half-done topknot on her head told him they were probably enjoying a little ‘private’ time before Nick left for The Lion’s Den.
“What happened?” Nick said the minute he stepped into the room.
Marcus stopped his pacing. “They took Lizbeth again.” Just saying the words out loud brought the panic back full force.
Nick waved to a chair in front of the fireplace. “Tell me what you know.”
Marcus ignored the chair and continued to pace, running his fingers through his hair. “I hired a man a couple of weeks ago to follow Lizbeth when she was gone from the house. I didn’t tell her because I wasn’t sure she would approve of my high-handedness, but I needed to make sure if I couldn’t be with her that someone was there looking out for her.”
Nick nodded, then walked to the sideboard. He poured two snifters of brandy and handed one to Marcus. “Go on.”
Pamela sat on the arm of a chair and took Nick’s hand in hers.
Marcus downed the brandy he handed him. “I would prefer to tell you the rest on our way to Bristol.”
“Bristol?”
“Yes. We must leave immediately.”
Pamela nodded. “I will g-go with y-ou.”
Nick’s face softened as he gazed at his wife. “You will do no such thing, my love. You will stay right here, safe and sound and take care of yourself and my child.” He patted her slightly rounded belly.
“B-but she might n-need some comforting,” Pamela said as she followed Marcus and Nick to the front door.
“Mallory will provide all the comfort she needs.” He looked at Marcus with raised brows. “Am I correct?”
For the first time since Marcus entered the bookstore earlier, he smiled. “Yes. She has accepted my offer of marriage.”
Nick offered a curt nod. “Then let’s go get your betrothed.”
Just before the door opened, Nick pulled his wife in close to his chest, bent her over his arm and kissed her. Long and hard. “Wait for me,” he murmured while Marcus and the man at the door smirked.
Pamela blinked a few times and patted the sides of her hair, appearing dazed as they left the house.
They mounted their horses, and Marcus told Nick as much of the story as he could with them galloping side-by-side to Bristol.
* * *
With the carriage door swinging open in the breeze from where the man guarding her left in such a hurry Lizbeth saw two carriages pull up to the ship she assumed would be her trip to Australia. The word Police with bold gold letters was emblazoned on the sides. Behind them came a large wagon-type vehicle, with open sides.
A gang of bobbies climbed from the first two vehicles and swarmed the docks. They grabbed a few men talking, obviously taken by surprise. Three more policemen hurried up the gangplank and entered the ship.
Yet another two peelers chased down four other men who raced from the docks. Whistles blew, shouting continued, and a shot was fired from somewhere.
Lizbeth pulled the cloth from around her mouth and slid on her bottom until her tied feet hung over the edge of the carriage. She screamed for help until her throat was sore, but with the noise no one turned. Just as she was about to jump out, Joey Barton appeared from nowhere and pushed her feet back in. “You ain’t going nowhere. You caused me enough trouble. I’m gonna get some money out of you.”
Like a man possessed he slammed the carriage door and jumped to the driver’s seat, unaware, or uncaring that her hands were no longer tied. She tried desperately to no avail to untie the knots in the rope around her feet as he climbed up on the driver’s seat. As soon as he was settled on the top of the carriage and it began to roll, she opened the door and jumped out.
She rolled and attempted to break her fall with her hands.
“Lizbeth!” She looked up to see Marcus bearing down on her from atop his horse. His companion, who appeared to be Nick Smith, continued past them and chased after Barton’s carriage.
The Artist and the Rake Page 14