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

“Be ready tomorrow night. We’ll meet in the drawing room just before midnight. Wear something dark.” He shifted her into a turn to avoid another couple.

“I will be ready.” She smiled sweetly and he grinned back.

10

“What is that you are wearing? And where in heaven’s name did you get it?” Marcus’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Lizbeth as she came down the stairs, ready for their trek to the boarding house. Her delectable legs were outlined in snug-fitting men’s trousers.

She lifted her chin. “I see nothing wrong with what I’m wearing, and I borrowed the trousers from the gardener’s son.”

“You can see all your…your legs.”

“Oh, how terrible!” She actually laughed. “I can move much better in trousers and if we need to run, I don’t want to end up in a heap on the ground entangled in my skirts.”

Truth be known, he had hoped she would not have dressed in such a practical manner so he could convince her to stay in the carriage while he searched the storage room at the boarding house. No such luck there. It seemed Lizbeth was always one step ahead of him.

He scowled at her and took her arm to escort her from the house to the hackney he’d hired for the night. In the event they were discovered and had to make a quick exit, he didn’t want the Berkshire carriage, with the crest emblazoned on the door, involved in their venture. Using a hired carriage had been a much safer idea.

He was almost forced to close his eyes as she entered the carriage before him, her lovely little bottom outlined in the trousers and right in his face. He broke into a sweat and hurried to sit across from her before his reaction became visible.

It must be that it had been far too long since he’d enjoyed the comfort of a woman’s body. He’d never had a problem before controlling his body’s reaction to an attractive woman. However, for some reason since he’d fist laid eyes on Lizbeth Davenport, he’d been thinking of her, wanting her, and at the same time, chastising himself.

The poor girl had gone through something terrible for an innocent young lady and here he was thinking of ways he could pleasure her—and himself—instead of focusing on finding who was responsible and seeing that justice was done.

How he would deal with these feelings after this had all been put to rest remained a mystery. Were Lizbeth just any other unmarried woman, he would pursue her and see where the courtship led. Although she’d been slowly allowing some touching on her hand, back and cheek, that was a far cry from intimacy.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he looked out the window as they came to a rolling stop in a well-kept neighborhood of what appeared to be mostly boarding houses. They’d chosen their night well since all was dark as there was no moon and the typical English fog shrouded them.

He’d learned from those he’d hired to watch the house that the doorman retired once the front door was locked for the night. If a resident was not inside by eleven-thirty, she was not allowed in until morning, Lizbeth had told him. One would think Mrs. O’Leary’s Boarding House was one of the most respectable boarding houses for women in all of Bath. Appearances were deceptive.

They stepped out of the hackney and Marcus gave instructions to the driver to wait for them on the next street. They did not want to attract any notice, just get in and out of the house as quickly as possible.

Without speaking they walked together in silence to the back of the older white clapboard house.

He’d handed a small lantern to Lizbeth to carry. Marcus patted his pockets where he held a lock-picking kit, two candles, matches, and a pistol. He hoped they would not encounter any trouble, but he preferred to be prepared.

They had discussed their manner of entry and ruled out breaking a window. Instead, Marcus had bought the lock-picking tools. He’d gotten instructions from the man who sold him the set. It was noteworthy that the seller never questioned why Marcus wanted to pick locks.

Marcus handed Lizbeth matches. “This will give me a little bit of light without attracting neighbors,” he murmured.

Lizbeth struck a match and held it next to the lock as Marcus squatted and inserted the implement into the opening. The lock provided scant security for the house. He, a novice, had it opened in only a few seconds.

“Let me lead the way,” Lizbeth whispered as she blew out the match.

“Just a minute.” Marcus opened the door and looked in to make sure no one was waiting for them. Then he waved her in front of him and she made her way up the back stairs. He thanked his lucky stars that it was so dark he couldn’t see very much of her figure in front of him. Of course, just the memory of what he’d seen entering the carriage was enough to awaken his body.

They both paused and held their breath when Lizbeth stepped on one of the stairs and it made a loud squeaking noise. She reached back and grabbed Marcus’s hand. He gave it a slight squeeze.

After a minute of straining their ears to listen for the sound of shouting and thumping down the stairs, they continued. Once they reached the third floor, where Lizbeth said the storage room was located, they both stopped to catch their breath. Lizbeth waved him on, and they proceeded to the end of the corridor.

She pointed to the last door on the right side. She tried the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. Once again Marcus got his tools out and squatted in front of the lock. He questioned why a storage room would be locked but received his answer once the door opened.

He let out a low whistle as they observed shadows of shelves full of objects barely outlined in the dimness, no doubt belonging to the women who had ‘disappeared’ from the boarding house over the years. As they grew closer to the shelves Marcus lit one of the candles so they could make out various items of clothing, shoes, jewelry, mirrors, hairbrushes, and all sorts of pictures and personal items, like a well-stocked shop. Some in contain

ers or boxes, some just sitting on the bare wood.

Marcus moved to the only window in the room and looked out. He could see nothing with the thick fog, so he was fairly certain no one would see them. “We can light the lantern and leave it on the floor. You should take the other candle now and do a complete search.”

Lizbeth stood in the center of the room and turned in a complete circle, shaking her head. “Do you realize how many women must have resided in that room? How many were also kidnapped and sent to brothels? This must have been going on for years.”