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Her deep brown hair had been slicked back, showing off the fine structure of her face. Her deep blue eyes held a great deal of sadness. And anger. He could almost see the steam coming from her ears.
Then there was her mouth. That was the one feature he could not take his eyes off. If he were a patron in the brothel they’d just left, he would give every penny he had on him for a night with her.
Her pale blue sheer gown gave her an ethereal look. Without being overly suggestive, it was cut in such a way to show off her delectable curves. Curves he’d love to run his hands over.
Then he cringed on the inside. Whatever the bloody hell was wrong with him? This poor girl had most likely been an innocent virgin when she’d been kidnapped from her own bed and sold to a brothel. He should be ashamed of himself to even think along those lines.
She continued to pat her eyes with the handkerchief Nick had handed her when she had collapsed in tears. Tracks of black kohl ran down her face from her eyes. Oblivious to the face makeup that was streaked across her cheeks, she held the piece of linen in her hand and looked out the window. It was dark, and she could not see much, but Marcus assumed she would rather stare at nothing than look at another man.
All of a sudden, an urge came over him to jump from the vehicle and race back to the brothel and beat every man there to a pulp. As well as the prancing madam in the silk red dress he’d seen gliding about the rooms, encouraging the men to choose their women.
His hands clenched with anger. This was precisely what he was attempting to curtail with his bill.
The carriage came to a halt in front of Montrose House. Nick jumped out and turned to help Miss Davenport. She hesitated slightly, but then accepted his hand. Marcus’s insides tightened. He wanted to be the one to help her out of the carriage. He wanted to have been the one who rescued her from the brothel, not just leading them out of the building and into the carriage.
They headed to the steps and the front door was immediately opened. Lady Pamela stood there, her hand covering her mouth. “Lizbeth!” She flew down the steps and grabbed Miss Davenport so hard they both stumbled backward. Nick grabbed Pamela to keep her from falling, and standing behind Miss Davenport, Marcus caught her in his arms.
A faint scent of roses came from her hair. And yes, her curves were as glorious as he’d suspected. Before he could process that information, she elbowed him in his middle, so he let her go. She straigh
tened and turned to him. “I apologize. I’m afraid it was a reflex.”
For a moment he was stunned by her voice. Soft and sultry, bringing up images that he’d just spent the carriage ride trying to push from his mind. Realizing he was staring at her, he said, “That is fine, Miss Davenport. Do not distress yourself.”
Before she could answer, Lady Pamela had her arms wrapped around her, and the two ladies hugged.
“What do you say we take this reunion inside? We don’t want to alarm the neighbors and have them start asking questions.” Nick pried them apart and led Lady Pamela upstairs.
Marcus offered his arm to Miss Davenport, but she ignored it and walked in front of him up the steps. He had to do Latin conjunctions in his head to keep his mind off the sight of her gently swaying hips.
Even though he had dismissed his mistress, it hadn’t been so very long since he’d bedded a woman, so his reaction to this one was disturbing. However, even though he felt such a strong physical attraction toward her, he also experienced the need to protect her. To wipe the pain and sadness from her eyes. To assure her nothing like that would ever happen to her again.
They settled in the drawing room with an older woman hurrying in with tea things. The two men poured themselves a brandy. Nick turned to Lizbeth and Pamela who gripped each other’s hands where they sat on the settee. He held up his glass. “Here is to a successful evening.”
Marcus returned the sentiment and gulped down his drink.
Two days later, Marcus once again paced in the library as he waited not too patiently for a response from his sister. He’d sent a telegraph missive to her the day after the rescue, asking if she could provide a room for Miss Davenport. He had suggested it to Miss Davenport that night when she mentioned to Lady Pamela that she disliked London and wanted to return to Bath.
Since his visit had been planned anyway, and aware of Addie’s generous nature, he immediately offered to contact his sister. Even though Miss Davenport refused at first, Lady Pamela finally convinced her that her good friend, Lady Berkshire had a big heart and would be happy to help.
He was quite satisfied when the girl agreed to have him ask Addie, knowing she would be nearby. Feeling foolish about his attraction to Lizbeth, he continued to remind himself that she had just gone through an extremely stressful and demeaning ordeal. She was upset—rightly so—and probably did not want to see, speak or hear from a man for quite a long time. If ever.
He had no idea if this infatuation with her was genuine, but all he knew was he felt the need to keep her close by. And he told himself, to soothe his conscience, speaking with her might help him gather first-hand information he could use in passing his bill.
Trying to keep himself occupied while he awaited word from Addie, he looked through the latest report his father had sent over by messenger on a new business he wanted their enterprise to consider in Bath. All the information was there in the report, and once he read the entire thing, he had to agree. It was a good idea.
“Mr. Mallory, this wire has arrived for you.” Grimsley, the butler who had stood at the door of Mallory Townhouse for ages held out an envelope.
“Thank you.” Marcus ripped it open and grinned. Not that he was surprised, knowing his sister, but it was good to be able to show proof to Miss Davenport that she was truly welcome.
Whistling a vague tune, he gathered up the papers from the report and stuffed them into the drawer. His father was at the enterprise office on Bond Street, where he spent most of his time. Marcus preferred the informal setting of his office in the family townhouse.
He would ride over to Montrose House and show Miss Davenport the answer from Addie. That would certainly convince her to accept. They could then arrange to leave London as quickly as possible.
Lizbeth sat on the window bench in the lovely room she’d been given in the townhouse where Pamela and Mr. Smith were staying. Although she was extremely grateful to Mr. Smith and Mr. Mallory for rescuing her from that horrible place, she wanted to get as far away from London as quickly as possible.
Even though she had agreed to allow Mr. Mallory to ask his sister to provide a room for her, she still wondered if that was a wise decision. To put it plainly, she was dirty. She’d worked in a brothel. No matter that it was brief, and against her will, she still did the unspeakable. Or, had the unspeakable done to her. She shuddered.
And how would Lord Berkshire, Addie’s husband, feel about housing someone like her? But then again, pride was a wonderful thing when one had options. She had none.
