However, when she mentioned that her funds were limited so they must keep the purchases to a minimum, her betrothed merely raised his brows and said, “Send the bills to me, my love. You are to be my wife. I will see to your housing, food, and clothing.”
She reminded him that she had money tucked away from the sale of her paintings, but he insisted she use that for additional supplies and whatever else she fancied.
One thing she’d been thrilled about was when he told her he’d arranged with his father to set up an office in Bath to oversee their business interests there, which meant she would not be forced to move to London.
He also assured her that while she was busy doing all sorts of women wedding things, he would be searching to purchase a townhouse for them in Bath.
That was a huge relief and she loved him for that. When that thought crossed her mind so easily, she realized it was true. She had fallen in love with the man who helped rescue her from a horrible fate.
A true knight in shining armor.
When she asked about his Parliamentary duties, he said they would have to spend time in London during the Season—but only while Parliament was in session. Since he was willing to move to Bath, that was the least she could do for him since his duties to Parliament were important to him.
She looked up as the door opened and Mr. Finch entered. He was a nice man in his middle years. He was married for many years, but his wife died of a wasting disease two years before. She often thought he had purchased the bookstore to keep him busy and not dwelling on his late wife.
“I think I will go to the tea shop at the end of the street and buy a bowl of soup for lunch,” Lizbeth said as she walked up to greet Mr. Finch. “If that is all right with you.”
“Yes, yes. Please do go my girl. You always look to me like you need another meal.”
Lizbeth grinned at the man and went into the back of the store to get her cloak. “I shall return in about twenty minutes.”
He waved at her. “Take your time. I am fine here.”
She pulled the collar of her cloak close to her neck as she made her way down the street. The sunshine from earlier in the day had been slowly replaced with clouds and the threat of rain. The breeze that blew around her brought on shivers.
About three stores away from the tea shop, she walked past an alleyway and saw a quick movement to her right. As she turned, she was grabbed from behind, strong arms wrapping around her middle.
“Thought you would get away from us, didn’t you? No one escapes Joey Barton.”
Lizbeth opened her mouth to scream just as a heavy hand covered her mouth. She was picked up and carried to a coach. She looked around frantically but there was no one nearby on the street. A couple of streets down she saw several people, but they were not looking in her direction.
She kicked back with her foot, trying to hit the man holding her in the legs, but he managed to dodge her strikes. Another man jumped into the fray to be quickly subdued when she struck out with her foot and hit him in the head. He went down like a bag of flour, slamming his head on the pavement.
Still kicking, scratching and fighting, she was ignominiously tossed into the carriage, landing on her hands and knees. The door slammed and the vehicle rolled away.
Lizbeth reached for the door to jump out but was pulled back by her hair. Apparently, Joey Barton was not the man who’d taken her because he sat on the padded bench and stared at her. He nodded to whoever it was holding her hair and he released her.
“If you make one sound, it will be your last.” Barton pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her heart. “I am not fond of losing my women.”
“I am not your woman.”
He nodded again to the man behind her who backhanded her in the face.
Barton picked imaginary lint from his dark wool greatcoat. “Easy, Jenks, we don’t want her taking another vacation while her bruises heal. She has a lot of time to make up for.” He glanced down at her hand. “My, my. Did we get ourselves engaged?”
“None of your bloody business.”
Barton tsked. “Such language. Although there are plenty of customers who like a woman who fights and uses foul language. We will have to make sure you know all the proper terms.”
“I would kill myself before I return to that brothel.”
“Oh, my dear. Do not trouble yourself. You are not going back to the brothel in London.”
Something in his eyes scared her more than anything that had happened so far.
“No, no. We want to make sure this time you aren’t able to have your lover rescue you. We are on our way to Bristol. There is a fine ship there awaiting your arrival.”
Her eyes grew wide and her heart pounded so hard she thought it would jump from her chest. “Where are you taking me?”