The Artist and the Rake Read online

  “Marcus!” Lady Berkshire stood and held her arms out to her brother. There was no doubt in Lizbeth’s mind that this woman was his sister. Were they both men, or both women, they would be mistaken for identical twins.

  Marcus enveloped his sister as close as he could in a hug and kissed her cheek. “You are looking wonderful for someone who is about to give birth.” He leaned back and studied her huge abdomen with concern. “Er, how soon is it due?”

  She waved her hand. “He or she, brother, not an ‘it’, is due in about six or seven weeks. Aside from eating everything that doesn’t crawl away from me and sleeping hours during the day—since I can’t sleep at night—I feel fine. Fat.” She turned from her brother and looked over at Lizbeth.

  Lizbeth’s heart pounded, wondering if she should just run off and find somewhere else to stay. This was a woman of the ton. She was married to an earl, for heaven’s sake. Why would they allow a fallen woman in their home?

  Then Addie waddled toward her, her arms extended once again. “I am so very pleased that you will be staying with us, Miss Davenport.” She gave her a hug, again her stomach getting in the way of any closeness between them.

  Lizbeth quelled the urge to cry. She cleared her throat and looked at Lady Berkshire. “I am grateful that you are allowing me to stay here. If it becomes a problem, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

  Lady Berkshire’s eyebrows rose. “A problem? Why ever would you think that? Lord Berkshire and I are thrilled to have your company.” She placed her arm around Lizbeth’s shoulders and walked her toward the settee where they both settled.

  “I have a lovely room ready for you.” She looked over at Marcus who was grinning. “Why are you grinning at me? It‘s my stomach, isn’t it?” She shook her head at Lizbeth and rolled her eyes. “Men.”

  “And brother, your usual room is ready,” she tossed over her shoulder, then again addressed Lizbeth. “I haven’t arranged for tea because it’s quite close to luncheon. I would love a nice long chat, but I imagine you would like to see your room and freshen up. Cook will have everything ready in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes. I would like that.”

  Lady Berkshire turned to Marcus. “Will you please ring for a footman?”

  Once the footman arrived, she said, “Please have Sybil show Miss Davenport to the room Mrs. Marshall has prepared for her.” She turned to Lizbeth. “Sybil is one of our maids and Mrs. Marshall is the housekeeper. If you need anything, you may send word to Mrs. Marshall. She is wonderful.”

  To say she was overwhelmed was a gross understatement. Growing up they had a woman who came in to do laundry and clean, as well as a cook, but only one maid, and definitely no footmen since their snug little house barely held the five of them.

  “Thank you, my lady. Again, I appreciate your kindness.”

  “Oh, there won’t be any ‘your lady’ with me, please. I would like for you to call me Addie, which is what my friends call me.”

  To be considered a friend so quickly and easily told Lizbeth a lot about this woman. Could it be that she was as nice as Marcus seemed to be? Then her reluctance to trust anyone rose and she mentally pulled back. It was better to keep a distance between them to protect herself. “Thank you. And please call me Lizbeth.”

  “That is an unusual name. Is there a story behind it?” Addie struggled to rise from the chair. Marcus walked over and took her hands and pulled her up. She thanked him and then swatted his arm again when he laughed. Addie walked with her to the entrance hall where they waited for Sybil.

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” Lizbeth answered. “My brother Jacob was four years younger than me. He could not say ‘Elizabeth’ which is my given name. So soon everyone was calling me Lizbeth and it’s been that way for years.”

  Addie reached out and touched Lizbeth’s hand. “I heard about the terrible tragedy you suffered with your family’s deaths. I hope you don’t mind that Pamela told us one day when we met for tea. I am so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Lizbeth blinked to keep from crying again.

  “If you feel up to it, Lizbeth, I would like to take you to the theater tonight,” Marcus said as he joined them at the entrance hall just as a young maid, who must have been Sybil came down the stairs.

  Although Lizbeth was reluctant to appear in public, if she was going to follow through on her plan to seek retribution from the people who ruined her life, she would have to swallow her fears and step out of the house. Also, she loved the theater and hadn’t been to one in years. Marcus studied her while she hesitated. Then she smiled. “Yes. I believe I would like that.”

  Marcus grinned at his sister. “I would invite you and Grayson, but I don’t think you would fit in any of the chairs.”

  Addie rolled her eyes at him again. “Be off with you. Go find Grayson, enjoy a brandy.” She looked at Lizbeth. “Grayson is Lord Berkshire.”

  Sybil introduced herself to Lizbeth and bid her to follow her up the stairs. The second floor was carpeted, making their footsteps silent. The maid kept up a lively chatter as they walked almost to the end of the corridor, where she opened a door and stepped back, allowing Lizbeth to enter. “This is your room, miss, I hope it meets with your approval.”

  The room was lovely, and better than anything she’d ever stayed in before. Soft blue and pale green wallpaper gave the room a comfortable feel. The large bed almost took up the entire center of the room.

  Along one wall was a fireplace between two long windows, the drapes that matched the bedcover had been drawn back, throwing bright light into the space. Another wall held a beautiful mahogany dresser with a pitcher and bowl sitting on top. A small matching desk and bookcase alongside the south wall completed the coziness of the room.

  “This is wonderful.” Lizbeth placed her reticule and gloves on the dresser.

  “If you need anything, please ring that bell.” Sybil pointed to a brocade bell pull hanging near the door. “Luncheon is in about fifteen minutes. Once you have freshened up, just return the way we came and pass the drawing room. The first door after that is the dining room.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “’Tis my pleasure.” Sybil gave her a dip and left the room.

  Lizbeth turned and surveyed the area, trying very hard not to feel the panic slowly making its way up her body to the loud thumping in her heart. The last time she was given a lovely room for free it had ended in disaster.

  * * *

  “I think it was very noble of you to help with Lizbeth’s rescue from that horrible place,” Addie said as she and Marcus sat across from each other in the drawing room. It was evening and he was waiting for Lizbeth to join them to leave for the theater.

  Marcus took a sip of brandy as he studied his little sister who had escaped from London to make her own way and ended up exactly where their mother had wanted her. Married with a child on the way. Is that what would happen to him? Was it impossible to thwart one’s parental desires? Would Mother have her way and see him married with a child on the way as well?

  Odd that it did not seem so terrifying anymore.

  Or maybe only since he met Lizbeth did it seem not so disagreeable, which was ridiculous because most likely the very last thing that poor woman wanted was to be touched by a man. And he was not one for a celibate marriage.

  “In all the time I’ve been championing women and children who are snatched off the streets and sold to brothels, it had all seemed almost a fantasy. Names on a piece of paper.” He studied the brown liquid as it swirled in his glass. “Not that I didn’t know for a fact it was happening.”

  He looked up at Addie. “Rescuing Lizbeth made it all real. She was a perfectly innocent woman, from a good family. Even without the money and titles prevalent among our set, she was brought up in a manner similar to our class.”

  So similar in fact, that it scared him more than all the hours he’d spent researching, interviewing and speaking with the police. If it could happen to Lizb
eth, it could have happened to his sister, or to a daughter of his one day.

  “Grayson and I are happy to have Lizbeth here, but what of the rest of her life? As unfair as it is, she does carry a stigma. Will she find it difficult to attract suitors? Would she even want one? I don’t think I would.”

  Marcus hopped from his seat, startling Addie. “There is nothing wrong with Lizbeth. She carries no stigma. She is still a pure, innocent young woman. Any man who does not see her value is not worthy of her time.”

  Addie nodded her agreement as she glanced around his body. The look on her face had him turning to come face to face with Lizbeth.

  The slight blush on her face was like a dagger to his heart. Obviously embarrassed, she straightened her shoulders and attempted a smile. “I’m ready.”

  There really wasn’t much more to say—at least at the time—so he gave her a slight bow. “Excellent.” He turned to Addie. “Have a good evening. Where is Grayson, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here with you?”

  “Oh, please. Don’t be silly. He spends so much time staring at me and my stomach that I sent him off to his club for the night.”

  “Is that a good idea?” He helped Addie up since she seemed to want to stand but was as graceful as a ladybug on her back.

  “I’m fine. Please don’t start watching me the way he does. I have people here who can send for help if it is needed.” She waved her fingers. “Now off with you. Enjoy yourselves. I am retiring early.”

  Marcus took Lizbeth’s coat from the butler and helped her into it. They made their way down the steps where the carriage awaited them.

  Once they settled inside and the carriage entered the traffic, Marcus smiled at her. “You look lovely this evening.” He was once again taken by her countenance. Not just her beauty, but the way she carried herself. She was no shrinking violet. Since he did not know her before the incident, he had no way of assessing what harm had been done to her personality. “Were you able to find enough clothes from my sister’s closet?”

  “Yes.” Lizbeth smoothed out her skirt. “I felt uncomfortable taking her gowns and other things, but she assured me they would no longer fit after the babe is born.”

  Marcus nodded. “Addie was never on the slender side, so I think she will probably have a bit of a time shedding the extra pounds that are bound to stick to her after the babe comes.” He hurried on, “Of course, there is no need for you to pass that information along.”

  Lizbeth laughed. “I promise. It will be our secret.”

  Our secret. That sat well with him.

  Lizbeth sighed and smoothed out her skirts. “Will you promise not to feel badly about me if I tell you all of this makes me uncomfortable?”

  He frowned. “All of what.”

  “All the help you and your sister, and Lord Berkshire are giving me. I learned the hard way that not everything that seems like good intentions are really that.” She turned her head to look out the window. “I hate the way that sounds, because I really do appreciate all you’ve done. And Addie. It’s just that…”

  “I understand.” The carriage came to a stop in front of the theater just as a light drizzle started. Marcus took her hand, which she tugged back. “I can’t imagine how you feel, but please know that anything I, or Lady Pamela, or Addie, does for you is truly with the best intentions.” He stepped out of the carriage and turned to assist her. A footman walked with them to the front door of the theater, covering them with an umbrella.

  Once they were inside and shed their outer garments, they strolled the lobby waiting for word that the show was about to begin. Marcus was pleased when Lizbeth accepted his arm as they made their way through the gathering crowds to Berkshire’s box that Marcus used whenever he was in Bath. Perhaps the dimness of the carriage and the closeness of their bodies had caused her to pull back when he’d taken her hand before. Even now she still managed to keep almost a foot of distance between them.

  Although Marcus lived in London, he had numerous friends and business contacts in Bath, and it seemed most of them were at the theater this night. He was happy to note that Lizbeth did not shirk from those they met, and after an initial reluctance to join in conversations, she lost some of her stiffness and appeared to be enjoying herself.

  They had just begun to climb the stairs to the upper level when Lizbeth sucked in a deep breath and turned to face him, her eyes wide, her face pale.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Tears flooded her eyes and she shook her head. “I must leave.”

  She turned as if to go back down the stairs, but he stopped her as she stumbled in her urgency. “Lizbeth, tell me what’s wrong.” He took her by her forearms, looking in her distressed face. “What happened?”

  She gulped and clenched her fingers together. “The man over there,” she glanced to the right at a group of men and women conversing.

  “Which man? And what of him?”

  Her breathing increased and she began to shake. “The one with the red waistcoat.”

  Marcus studied the group and found the man she was referring to. Unknown to him, he was bulky, not too tall, bald on top of his head, and waving a cigar around. Marcus put his arm around her shoulders and led her up the stairs. Miraculously, she did not shrug him off. “Hold on for a minute and we will be in our box.”

  Lizbeth merely nodded and stumbled along with him. It was only the two of them in the box, and it was dark, so he felt Lisbeth relax once the curtain swished closed, blocking them from the crowd. He led her to a chair and sat alongside her, wanting to take her hands, but felt it was better to not touch her at the moment. “Who is that man, Lizbeth?”

  She swiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at him. “He’s the man who ordered my beating after I was caught trying to stab my first customer at the brothel.”

  Chapter 6

  “What?” Marcus’s shout startled her into jumping back. “You were beaten in that place?” He lowered his voice.

  Lizbeth wiped her nose with the handkerchief Marcus handed her and nodded. “Yes.” She sighed and crumbled the linen in her hand, the memories that she’d tried so hard to push to the back of her mind racing forward. “As strange as it sounds it turned out to be for the best because they didn’t make me work until the bruises had healed.”

  In the dim light it was obvious Marcus was livid at her confession. She continued, “That was why I only spent two days actually working. Three if you count the night you and Mr. Smith rescued me.”

  Marcus ran his palm down his face and took a deep breath. “I need to find out who that man is. Will you be all right by yourself for a few minutes?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do not fear, my sweet, I won’t beat him. Yet. But if you’re determined to bring these people to justice, the best place to start is right here and right now.” He reached out and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. She jerked back, but it amazed her that his touch did not make her skin crawl. “I will be back as quickly as possible.”

  With those words, he kissed her forehead and left the area, the curtain swinging closed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She rubbed the spot on her forehead with her fingertips. Marcus was a sweet man, but still a man. She shivered.

  Lizbeth kept herself busy looking through the program and studying the people in the boxes across the way. It was obvious all the boxes were filled with nobility and the nouveau riche. In the few visits she’d made to the theater, she’d never been seated in such an elegant, prominent place.

  She turned as the curtain opened and Marcus entered.

  “Were you able to get any information?”

  “Yes.” He sat next to her and took the program she handed him. “His name is Joey Barton. He owns several businesses in town. I’m sure once we check his background some of those businesses will turn out to be criminal. But then, if he ordered your beating in a brothel he is obviously involved with kidnapping and forced prostitution.”

  Marcus leaned close to her ear as th
e orchestra began the overture. “Are you all right? Would you prefer to return home?”

  “No.” She tightened her lips, her muscles tense. “Those people stole enough from me. They will not steal the rest of my life, too. I love the theater.”

  Marcus grinned. He reached out to take her hand, but she crossed her arms over her middle. Apparently undaunted by her rejection, he whispered, “Your bravery amazes me, Miss Davenport.”

  Although she was honest enough to admit that she felt brave, most likely that bravery came from Marcus beside her. And far enough away from her that she didn’t feel boxed in.

  However, her bravery did not extend to strolling the lobby during the intermission. Instead, Marcus fetched lemonade for them both.

  As the play commenced, she went over in her mind what had happened to her from the time she awoke in a strange bed with a major headache the day after the kidnapping. Casting a sideways glance at Marcus, she decided that on the ride home from the theater she would tell him the entire story.

  She’d told him about how she ended up in Mrs. O’Leary’s boarding house but got distracted and never did finish the entire story. Since it appeared he was willing to help her in her quest to find the reprobates, he needed to hear the rest of it.

  For the most part, she was able to enjoy the performance, and became aware of those in other boxes looking in their direction. Since Addie and Lord Berkshire were not with them, there was probably a great deal of interest in who they were. Of course, anyone who knew Addie would recognize her brother. She, on the other hand, was the mystery woman.

  Once the play ended, they made their way to the front of the theater where the carriages were lined up. As they awaited their carriage, Lizbeth found herself studying the crowd, looking for Joey Barton. When Marcus told her his name, she remembered someone calling him Joey, but a lot of the details were lost since she tried her very best to ignore what was going on around her.