The Artist and the Rake (The Merry Misfits of Bath 4)

Lizbeth took a deep breath and offered him a shaky smile. He then moved

alongside her and placed his arm around her waist. A completely possessive move, but it was apparent Benson was annoying her and Marcus wanted to make sure the man understood that whatever there was or was not between him and Lizbeth, he would protect her from unwanted attention.

“How have you been, Benson, haven’t seen you for a while.” Marcus could feel Lizbeth’s shivers where his hand rested.

The man stepped back, his lips forming a strained smile. “I’m well, thank you. I don’t get to Bath very often, but since Lady Pamela and I are old friends I didn’t want to miss her wedding.”

“Is that right?” Marcus turned to Lizbeth in a dismissive move. “I understand there will be music as soon as Nick and Pamela leave. I would be honored if you save me a waltz.”

“Of course,” she said, her eyes darting toward Benson.

“And me, as well, Miss Davenport.” Benson’s leer made Marcus’s fist clench. It was his own stupid fault, after all. He shouldn’t have mentioned the dancing or a waltz in front of Benson.

Before Lizbeth could respond, Berkshire wandered in their direction and began a conversation with Benson, giving Marcus the excuse he needed to have some time with Lizbeth. “Before the music begins, may we take a stroll around the room? There is a matter I would like to discuss with you.” Marcus whisked her away and they began to walk the perimeter of the room.

“Now that the wedding is over, it is time for us to speak about breaking into Mrs. O’Leary’s house to look for your belongings.”

“Yes. And my paintings. I’ve been able to buy a few art supplies with the money I make at the store, but I want my paintings back. They represent years of hard work.”

Marcus nodded. “I’ve had someone watching the boarding house. I should be able to get in and out of the place quickly and without attention.”

Lizbeth came to a halt. “No.”

He raised his brows. “No?”

“That would be correct, Mr. Mallory.” She narrowed her eyes. “I will go with you.”

“No. You won’t.”

She clenched her jaw. “Yes. I will.”

“It’s too dangerous.” He waved his hand.

Lizbeth raised her stubborn chin. “They are my belongings and I will go with you. As I said before, I will not sit still like a good little girl while everyone else ‘solves’ my problem. I will go with you and that is the end of it.”

He was beginning to learn more about Lizbeth every day. She was loyal, courageous…and stubborn.

“Also, aside from the paintings, which would be obvious, you don’t know what my belongings look like. You might take some other woman’s personal female things.”

Lord Berkshire walked up to them. “I have no idea why you are discussing women’s personal female things, but I understand the orchestra is going to start and I’d rather see the two of you dancing than arguing.”

“Ah, not arguing, Berkshire, but debating,” Marcus said with a nod. Lizbeth grinned and they all laughed.

“Now I must find my wife. She is much too bulky to dance, but if I don’t keep my eye on her she will be overtaxing herself.” He gave them a slight salute and left.

True to his words, the orchestra started up and a waltz began. Marcus bowed in Lizbeth’s direction. “Our dance, I believe?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I will go with you to the boarding house?”

“Ah. Does whether you dance with me or not depend on my answer?”

“Hmm. You might say that.”

He wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to hold Lizbeth in his arms. She fit him perfectly, and in all fairness, it would be best if she went with him. She knew what her possessions looked like and knew the house. As much as he hated putting her in danger, he relented, knowing this was her fight. “Very well. You may go with me.”

Her brilliant smile almost brought him to his knees. “Then yes, Mr. Mallory, I believe this is our dance.” She held out her hand as if she were a queen offering her subject her hand to kiss.

Marcus couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, and taking her hand, led her to the dance area. He swung her into his arms, the sweet scent of roses and lemon drifting from her.