He settled next to her, leaving enough room for another person to sit there, and after taking a sip for fortification, she said, “The morning after I was taken from the boarding house I woke up in a strange bedroom with a dreadful headache. I had almost no memory of being transported, only of being confused and extremely tired.”
“Had you been drugged?”
“Yes. I didn’t realize it at the time, however, just that I was befuddled and disoriented. Mrs. O’Leary had appeared at my bedroom door shortly before I retired for the night and offered me a tisane because she said I had been sniffing at dinner—which in retrospect I realize was not true—and the tisane would help me sleep better.”
Marcus snorted and took a hardy sip of his brandy. “Go on.”
Being the gentleman he was, Marcus forced himself to sit in the drawing room, sipping on his brandy, and listening to Lizbeth. All the while his heart pounded and his stomach muscles twisted.
With every word she said, he wanted to return to the theater, track down Barton and beat him to a pulp. After he got every name out of him who had been involved in Lizbeth’s abduction. However, he had to do his best to calm down since he knew the feeling was only going to get worse as Lizbeth continued with her story.
“Once I awoke a woman came into my room and told me I was to be prepared to receive a client in a couple of days, that I would spend the time before then being ‘educated’ in my duties.” Lizbeth’s voice shook and Marcus covered her hand with his. She didn’t pull away.
“Naturally, I told her I had no idea what she was talking about and asked her where I was and demanded that I be returned home. She said I was in a brothel and would remain there as long as they wanted me to. While I was in shock, she continued telling me that there would be an auction in two nights for my…” She stopped and closed her eyes.
“For your virginity?” he said softly.
She nodded, and the tears began to fall. Marcus’s hand clenched and unclenched, but he had to remain calm for her. Lizbeth needed to get the story out. If she were to heal, she had to do this. As much as he hated to be the one to hear the tale, there was truly no one else.
Lizbeth took in a shuddering breath. “They spent two days coaching me, examining me—” her voice faltered, and she took another sip of sherry. “Then the night arrived, and they put makeup on my face, fixed my hair and left me in another room that was obviously a brothel room. I was dressed in a sort of nightgown, but nothing like I’d ever worn before.”
Marcus tried to block from his mind the vision of Lizbeth when they took her out of the brothel. She would have brought a high price for a night with her.
“When they left me in the room, I paced for over an hour and then I took notice of the dinner tray they had forgotten to remove. There was a knife on the tray that I took and hid it in the folds of my nightgown and sat on the bed.
When the door opened, I jumped up and flew at the man and stabbed him in his shoulder. Unfortunately, that man was not the customer, he was one of the owners and Joey Barton was with him. He flew into a rage and I attacked him, too, biting, kicking, anything I could do.”
“Good girl.”
“Yes. But between the two of them they subdued me, and Joey ordered the beating. They dragged me from that room and the beating I received—as a warning Joey said—kept me from being able to accept ‘clients’ for over a week.”
Marcus took her glass out of her hand and walked to the sideboard. He refilled her glass, thinking it should probably be brandy. Once he was settled alongside her again, she continued, “Once the bruises no longer showed, I was again bathed, made-up and put into a nightgown. Then the same woman from the first day came into the room and forced me to take a small dose of laudanum.
“Since the process was for the man to pay for the entire night, I only had two ‘clients.’ The third night was when Mr. Smith paid for me and you and he got me out of there. You know the rest of the story.”
So, Lizbeth had only been subjected to two men. Thank God he and Nick had arrived when they had. “That explains why the man who told me you were in that brothel said you had only just arrived a couple of days before that. We had speculated on where you had been up until then.”
She gave him a bitter smile. “Recovering.”
All through her tale, the tears had fallen. But with the courage he’d seen in her before now, she was able to do it without hysteria or swooning. A truly remarkable woman.
“Do you feel better?”
She shook her head with a sad smile. “No. But I think in time I will since I’ve gotten it all out.” She put the sherry glass down on the table and turned to him. “What I am now is very, very angry. Outraged, in fact. I did nothing to deserve this. And I will tell you this: I will get my revenge.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “Now I am exhausted and wish to find my bed.”
Marcus downed his drink. “I will walk with you. You have given me much to think about.”
“If you truly want to help, you can consider a way to make these people pay for what they’ve done.” They began their trek upstairs.
Once they reached Lizbeth’s door, she turned to him, her hand on the door latch. “Based on what Pamela told me about that room in Mrs. O’Leary’s boarding house, there are probably several other young ladies who experienced the same thing I did. We might not be able to help them, but I want to make sure no one else occupies that room.”
Marcus reached out and touched her cheek. Such soft skin. “I will do whatever it takes to stop that woman.”
“No. You will help me do whatever it takes to stop her. I won’t be pushed aside. This is my battle, and I am happy to
have your help, but I am not a sniveling, swooning female who will wait at home while her knight in shining armor fights her battle.”
Marcus grinned. “Am I your knight in shining armor, then?”