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17
Marcus continued to cradle her in his arms. “Nick and I wore out our horses hoping to catch you before they dragged you onto that ship.” He looked down at her, swearing he would never let her walk more than three steps from him in the future.
“You can put me down, now.” Her flush charmed him. With all she’d been through, she was still embarrassed at being held in his arms.
Although reluctant to let her go, he set her on her feet. Still holding her arm to balance her, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife that he used to cut the rope around her ankles. She shivered and he removed his coat and put it around her.
Lizbeth pulled it close against her body, and rubbed her palms up and down her arms, watching the activity in front of them. Police officers dragged men to the wagon, tossing them inside, others chased those trying to run away. “How did you know where to find me?”
He placed his arm around her shoulders. “Mrs. O’Leary. It took some persuasion, but she finally told me.”
Lizbeth leaned back and looked at him. “Mrs. O’Leary? Isn’t she in jail?”
“You know, I never thought about that.” Marcus frowned. “You’re correct, though. She should be in jail for the paintings’ theft. However, when I learned from Maxim that you were taken, I just ran to her house, assuming she would know.”
“Maxim?”
“Um. Yes. Do you recall the man you kicked so hard he smacked his head on the pavement when you were being taken from in front of the Café?”
“Yes.”
“I was paying him to follow you in case you got into trouble.” He waited for her chastisement, but instead she just stared at him with her mouth agape. “And I knocked him out?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Lizbeth shook her head. “Well, that didn’t work so well. But back to Mrs. O’Leary. I can’t believe she wasn’t in jail.”
They were interrupted when a man approached them. “Inspector Lewis?” Marcus said. Apparently, their surprises for the day were not over. Constable Pemberton strolled up beside him.
“I don’t know why the two of you are here, but you have put yourselves into the middle of a raid,” he growled.
“Raid?” They said simultaneously.
He fisted his hands at his side. “Right now, there are officers in London and Bath as well as Bristol rounding up dozens of people involved in the kidnappings that you experienced, Miss Davenport.”
Lizbeth raised her chin. “So, you finally acknowledge that I was kidnapped? However, Inspector, we did not put ourselves into the middle of this raid. I was kidnapped again and headed for that ship.” She waved her arm at the boat where over a dozen men were being led down the gangplank, hands tied behind their backs. “Thankfully, Mr. Mallory came after me.”
He gave them a curt nod. “Fine. I’m glad all is well, but now I must ask you to leave so we can continue with our work.”
Marcus took Lizbeth’s elbow to move her forward.
She pulled her arm free. “Just a minute, Inspector.”
The man turned back to her.
“Mr. Mallory learned where I was tonight because Mrs. O’Leary told him. Why is she not in jail?”
The Inspector glanced over at Pemberton and cleared his throat. “Mrs. O’Leary provided detailed information on the kidnappings and brothels. Her help made this raid possible.”
“Yes?” Lizbeth drew the word out, and Marcus was just beginning to realize what had happened. He made sure he had his arm snugly around her shoulders, so she didn’t assault the Inspector and land herself in jail along with the rest of the crowd.
“Oftentimes people accused of crimes can have a lighter sentence if they help with other crimes.” The Inspector began to edge back as if returning to the fray going on behind them was safer than the look on Lizbeth’s face.
She must have figured out where Inspector Lewis was going with this because her face flushed. “What exactly are you saying, Inspector?”
“Since the theft of your paintings did not result in any benefit to Mrs. O’Leary since she was never paid by the art dealer, the charges against her were dropped in favor of her naming everyone involved in the kidnapping scam.”
“What?!”
