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

Marcus walked up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Too many, sweeting. Hell, even one is too many.”

Lizbeth turned to him and took his hands. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’m not sure if I ever thanked you properly.”

“There is no need. I was happy to see you away from that horrible place.” He rested his palm on her cheek and removed it when she flinched. “Try to put all this behind you. It will be hard, but I believe a woman as strong as you are can do that.”

He dropped his hand and looked around the room. “But now we must do a search for your belongings.”

Lizbeth struck another match and lit the second candle and the lantern. “You won’t recognize my belongings, so I will search for those. You can look—probably stacked against the walls I would imagine—for my paintings. I doubt there were many tenants who were also artists. To think she used to praise my paintings and encourage me to paint in between helping her. She was so fake.” Lizbeth shook her head. “So very, very fake.”

They separated and Lizbeth began combing through the containers and cardboard boxes holding so many other young women’s possessions. Her eyes teared when she picked up an old, battered doll, obviously a treasured toy one unfortunate woman had kept with her after childhood had ended. Her hand shook as she returned the doll to the box. So many lives ruined, so many young women’s dreams smashed.

Mrs. O’Leary will pay.

She grew angrier with each box she searched. How dare Mrs. O’Leary take in woman after woman and sell them off, all the time acting like a perfectly wonderful, caring woman. She vowed again that if anyone received retribution from her kidnapping, Lizbeth would make sure it was her.

After about ten minutes, Marcus spoke softly from across the room. “Did you find any of your things yet?”

“No.” She grunted as she pulled out a box. In the scant light from the candle she’d set on the floor, a few things looked familiar. “Oh, wait. I think this is mine.” She removed the box completely and set it on the floor.

“If you’re sure it’s yours, don’t go through it now. We want to be here the shortest time possible.”

Lizbeth moved a few items around. “Yes. It’s mine. I can’t tell if everything is here, but I’ll look later. Any luck with paintings?”

“No.” He bent down and lifted his candle, searching the wall beneath the shelves. “But I still have the other wall to go through.”

Lizbeth stood and brushed herself off. “I’ll start at this end and you can start from the other.”

They both froze as footsteps sounded on the wooden floor coming from the other end of the corridor. Marcus snuffed out his candle and signaled her to do the same. He walked quietly to the lantern and blew out the flame.

Lizbeth extinguished her candle and moved quietly to where Marcus stood. He took her hand and they both backed into a dark corner, partially hidden by one of the shelves. He pushed her behind him and pulled a pistol out of his pocket.

Lizbeth was certain whoever was on the other side of the door could hear her heart pounding in her chest. The doorknob rattled and the door opened. “How many times do I have to tell that fool to lock this door,” Mrs. O’Leary mumbled.

Lizbeth remembered from her time in the boarding house that Mrs. O’Leary had a problem with seeing distances. Since she and Marcus were both dressed in dark clothing and with the dimness of the night, they were virtually invisible to the woman. As long as they didn’t move, or she didn’t come into the room and step closer.

Mrs. O’Leary shut the door, followed by the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. A click sounded as the lock turned. Lizbeth placed her hands on Marcus’s arms and rested her forehead on his back, giving her heart time to slow down. She looked around his body. She couldn’t see anything herself.

“We know she’s awake and wandering the halls, so we need to finish up as quickly as possible while I think of a way to get us out of here unnoticed.”

“She probably can’t sleep because of her conscience,” Lizbeth added. “I have my box, so all we need to do is look on that last wall for my paintings.” Lizbeth walked around Marcus as he put the weapon back into his jacket pocket.

They worked in silence until they met in the center of the last wall.

Lizbeth stood and placed her hands on her hips. “They’re not here,” she whispered. “I don’t understand. What did she do with them? I hope she didn’t destroy them.”

Marcus shook his head “Not likely. But now we have to get out of here.” He walked to the window and looked out. “Too far to jump and I can’t even see the ground. We’ll have to take a chance that Mrs. O’Leary has returned to her bed and go out the way we came in.”

“She locked the door, so you will have to use your newly acquired lock-picking skills to get us out.”

Marcus nodded and squatted down, quickly unlocking the door. He hefted the box with her things in it on his shoulder. “Go ahead of me.”

Lizbeth quietly opened the door and peeked out. No one was about that she could see. They moved quietly down the corridor to the door leading to the back staircase. Her heart sped up as they started down the stairs. She held her breath until they reached the outside door.

Marcus pushed her behind him again and opened the door. He looked back and forth and stepped out. “Let’s go.”

They made their way around the building to the front, then down the street to where the hired vehicle awaited them. Marcus opened the door, shoved the box in, and without waiting for her to climb up, grabbed her around the waist and tossed her in, following right behind her.

The carriage took off before the door was closed and they both sat back and inhaled deeply. “I don’t think I would like to make a habit of breaking into houses.” Lizbeth smiled and pushed the hair back from her forehead with a shaky hand. Marcus returned her smile and said, “I agree.”