The Artist and the Rake: The Merry Misfits of Bath - Book Four

by Hutton, Callie

  “What?” Did no one know how serious this was?

  “I know where Berkshire’s bedchambers are. Why don’t you go find Grayson and fetch the doctor? Or fetch the doctor first.”

  “Who is the doctor?”

  They stared at each other for a few moments. “Bloody hell.”

  Marcus stalked down the corridor with Lizbeth on his heels. The door slammed against the wall as they burst into Addie’s bedchamber.

  She screamed.

  “Oh God, are the pains that bad?” Lizbeth asked, looking quite pale.

  “No.” Addie placed her hand on her chest. “The two of you scared me to death. Whatever is wrong?”

  “Wrong!” Marcus shouted and waved his hands around like a man demented. “You’re having a baby, Grayson is nowhere to be found, we don’t know who your doctor is, and bloody hell, I am not the one who should be doing this.”

  “Calm down, Marcus.” Addie placed her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes. She grimaced and they all held their breath until she opened her eyes. “My doctor is Dr. Stevens,” she panted, “and Grayson is probably either at his club or with Carter at his office.”

  “Why the devil didn’t you say so.” Marcus turned on his heel and left the room.

  He thundered down the steps and raced to the carriage. He came to an abrupt stop and leaned his forehead against it, pounding the side of the vehicle with his fist. “Where the bloody hell is Dr. Stevens?”

  The driver shouted from the seat on top of the carriage. “I know where he is, Mr. Mallory. Jump in and I will have you there in no time.”

  Once the carriage left, Marcus took a deep breath and willed his heart to calm down. He would find the doctor, drag him back to Berkshire’s house, then find the father in all this mess and drink the biggest glass of brandy he could find.

  They stopped in front of a tidy clapboard house in a well-kept middle-class neighborhood. Marcus bounded out the door and up the steps, pounding on the front door. “Dr. Stevens!”

  A young woman opened the door, her eyes wide. She was dressed in a worn, not too clean dress. Strands of chestnut hair fell around her shoulders, loosened from the topknot she apparently had fixed that morning. “Whatever is going on?”

  “I need Dr. Stevens.”

  “How can I help you?”

  Marcus sighed. Absolutely nothing was going right. He took a deep breath and tried to get across to this woman, who was obviously a maid, that he was in dire need of Dr. Stevens. “My dear woman, I just said I need Dr. Stevens.”

  “Yes. I heard you. Quite clearly, in fact. That is precisely why I asked you how I can help.”

  “You can help by fetching Dr. Stevens. He is doctor for my sister, Lady Berkshire and she is about to give birth. Now please hurry.”

  The woman turned her back on him and hurried down the corridor. “I will be right with you.”

  Marcus felt like banging his head on the wall. Did this simpleton not understand he wanted her to fetch Dr. Stevens, not run off telling him she would be right back?

  He paced in the entrance hall mumbling to himself. He was about to search every room until he found the blasted doctor when the maid returned, shrugging into her coat with one arm. In her other hand she carried a medical bag. “Are you Dr. Steven’s assistant, then?”

  “No.” She grinned at him. “I am Dr. Stevens.”

  Marcus stood, staring at her when she passed him by and hurried down the steps, his mouth agape. She was Dr. Stevens?

  Once she arrived at the carriage, she turned to him. “Are you coming, mister-whoever-you-are since you did not introduce yourself?”

  As if in a trance, Marcus followed the woman down the steps and climbed into the carriage. Once the door closed, the driver immediately steered the carriage into the traffic.

  “You are a woman.”

  “Yes.” She looked out the window.

  “You are a doctor?”

  “Right again.”

  “Does Lady Berkshire know this?”

  “That I am her doctor?” She grinned. “I believe so.”

  “Ah, but does she know that you are a woman?”

  Dr. Stevens glanced down at herself. “Since Lady Berkshire has excellent vision, I can only surmise that she knows this.”

  Since there was nothing else to do, Marcus studied this woman who claimed she was a doctor. Pretty in a passable way, she looked to be somewhere in her late twenties. She had a slender form, but before she hid herself under her coat, he noticed she had nice curves. “Why?”

  She turned and looked at him, her brows raised. “Why what?”

  “Why are you a doctor?”

  “I’m sorry, but have we been introduced?”

  Marcus felt like an idiot. He’d been so discombobulated by finding that Addie was about to give birth with no doctor there, and no husband pacing the floor, and her doctor was, of all things, a woman, that he overlooked the most basic of manners. “I apologize. I am Mr. Marcus Mallory, brother of Lady Berkshire.”

  “Ah.” She smiled. “I understand the panic, then. No children of your own?”

  He reared back. “No!”

  Dr. Stevens laughed outright. A very melodious sound that put him at ease. “You make it sound like a disease.”

  “Again, I must apologize. It’s just that this entire matter has unnerved me a tad.”

  “Just a tad?”

  He bent his head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps more.”

  Once they pulled up to the house, he went out first and helped the doctor out. She hurried up the steps, and the door was immediately opened.

  “Mallory, you don’t need to go looking for me.” Berkshire walked down the corridor as Marcus passed through the door.

  “Thank God.” His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. After a minute of attempting to control his breathing and ward off the pending heart attack, he headed to the library and spoke over his shoulder. “Care to join me in a brandy?”

  “No. I plan to stay alert, but you go ahead. I am going up to check on Michael. He would not have heard all the scurrying about, but he will still sense the unease.”

  He barely finished one sip when Lizbeth entered the library and looked longingly at the brandy in his hand. Marcus held up the decanter. “Care for a drink?”

  She sighed. “I would love one, but a sherry for me.”

  They both took their glasses and sat on the settee, silence surrounding them for a few minutes.

  “Before this all happened, you said on the way into the house that you wanted a word with me in the library.” Lizbeth took the last sip of her drink. The look she cast him almost looked like she wanted to throttle him.

  “Yes.” Marcus placed his glass on the table and went down on one knee in front of Lizbeth and took her hand.

  15

  Lizbeth stared at Marcus as if he’d just grown another head. Why was he on his knees? Men didn’t usually offer their protection to their would-be mistress by kneeling before them. Although, in fairness she’d never before been in a position to have a man offer his protection.

  Before she could ask the fool man what he was doing, he looked up at her. “Lizbeth, I care a great deal for you. There are so many things about you that I admire. I think you care for me in some way, and we do get on quite well.”

  He paused and she still studied him, her previous annoyance turning to curiosity.

  “What I want to ask is, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Your wife!” The blood all left her head and she began to see black dots before her eyes. This was the very last thing she’d expected him to say.

  “Yes. I know I’ve said over the years that I had no intention of ever marrying, but ever since I met you, my mind has been slowly changing.”

  Did the man not remember to whom he spoke? The one time he attempted to kiss her, she’d turned away. “While I am flattered by your offer, I must say there are certain aspects of marriage that I don’t believe I could
become comfortable with.”

  “I know, and I’ve given it a great deal of thought. As I’ve said before, I am a patient man. You need time, and I acknowledge that. I would never force you or make you uncomfortable.”

  “But it is your right as a husband.”

  He kissed the back of her hand. “My right as a husband is to make my wife comfortable and happy.”

  “That sounds quite noble, but suppose I never become comfortable?”

  He leaned back on his heels. “I don’t mean to brag, but I am quite sure over time I can help you overcome your fears.”

  Lizbeth chewed her lip and studied him. He was honest and sincere, and she knew she had no reason to doubt his word. She had asked him to help her with this problem, but she certainly hadn’t expected the man to offer for her.

  Also, she had been curious lately about kissing Marcus…

  “Can I ask a favor before I answer?”

  “Of course.”

  She nodded. “First of all, please get off your knees. That is making me uncomfortable.”

  He grinned. “And me as well.” He moved up alongside her, continuing to hold her hand. “What do you want, love?”

  She cleared her throat and raised her chin. “Kiss me.”

  His brows rose and she was tempted to giggle. He did look a bit surprised. “Miss Davenport you never cease to surprise me.” He offered a soft smile and cupped her face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. The air between them seemed electrified. She was certain it was not fear that settled in her middle, causing butterflies to dance to their own tune. It was anticipation. And in some ways, a test. If she could not even allow a kiss the situation seemed dire indeed and did not portend well for marriage.

  She felt his warm breath on her face as he leaned closer. He smelled of bath soap, and something minty. The first touch of his lips startled her, and he pulled back. “Are you sure you’re sure?”

  Lizbeth laughed. “Yes. I’m sure I’m sure.”

  This time he didn’t hold back. He started off easy, but it didn’t take long after she gave a soft moan that he pulled her flush against him and moved her head in different directions to take the kiss deeper.

  He nudged with his tongue at her lips and she opened, surprised when his warm soft tongue swept into her mouth. She met his with her own tongue and they dueled until she felt as though all the bones in her body had melted.

  Marcus pulled back and grinned. “Breathe, Lizbeth.”

  She slowly opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yes. Breathing is good.” Her heart pounded in her chest as if she’d run a race. Her insides tingled and her breasts ached. “Can we do that again?”

  “With pleasure, sweetheart.” He covered her mouth once again and this time she entered his mouth first. He ran his hands up and down her back, then leaned over her so she was resting on the settee.

  Bells went off in her head, and the image of the naked man climbing over her with his leering eyes flashed through her mind. She opened her eyes and pushed Marcus with all her strength. “Get off.”

  He sat up immediately. He held his hands in the air, palms facing her. “I won’t touch you. Be calm. Please.”

  She nodded and took deep breaths. Marcus leaned back on the settee and also gulped in air. He rested his arm across the back of the sofa and gently touched her shoulder with one finger.

  When she didn’t push him away, he began to draw small circles. “I apologize. I should not have done that.”

  Lizbeth shook her head. “No. I think we have agreed that I am the one with the problem.”

  “And we agreed that I would be patient.” He smiled at her. “Speaking of being patient, you have not answered my question.”

  Jumbled thoughts and images swamped her mind. Her horrible experience at the brothel. Marcus teasing her, smiling at her, helping her, championing her. Then she asked herself the one question that really mattered. If Marcus had proposed to her before she’d been kidnapped what would her answer have been?

  Yes.

  There was no doubt about that. He was the husband of a young girl’s dreams. Tall, handsome, witty, brave, caring. Add wealthy and generous and only a fool would say no.

  On the other hand, her young girl’s dreams had been smashed. But was she ready at her age to give up on them? Was she truly that much of a coward?

  “Sweetheart? You’re making me nervous.”

  ‘Twas not every day that a woman with no connections, no fortune, or no Upper Crust education and training, was made an offer by a man of the ton.

  She hoped the lump in her throat would not turn into tears. “Now I ask you the same question.” Her voice shook as she said, “Are you sure?” She held her breath as he studied her, and then his face relaxed into a soft, warm visage.

  “I am quite sure. In fact, I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

  Lizbeth clasped her hands to her chest and nodded. “Then my answer is yes.”

  Marcus broke into a smile. “May I request another kiss?”

  He looked so uncertain that it almost broke her heart. She knew he deserved so much more than her, but she was selfish enough to not care. He wanted her and that was sufficient. “My answer is yes.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, covering her face, neck and the exposed skin on her chest with kisses. Then he took her lips in a searing kiss that was quickly interrupted by a loud cough.

  They broke apart to see Berkshire standing in the library. “I made a bit of noise when I entered, but it seemed the two of you did not hear me. Had you not responded this time I would have been forced to shoot off my pistol to gain your attention.”

  Lizbeth smoothed out her skirts and patted the sides of her hair, her face flaming.

  Marcus rose and took Lizbeth’s hand, who stood alongside him. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Congratulate me, Berkshire. Miss Davenport has just made me the happiest of men by accepting my hand in marriage.”

  “Indeed?” He raised his brows and walked to the sideboard where the brandy decanter stood. “I must say I am not surprised.” He poured a brandy and held the glass up. “Congratulations to you, Mallory, and here’s to a happy life for the two of you.”

  “Thank you,” Lizbeth said. “How is Addie?”

  Berkshire shuddered. “I spent time with Michael and then stopped by our bedchamber. That’s when I decided to come down for a drink.” He swirled the liquid around. “But only one.”

  “Did you know Dr. Stevens is a woman?” Marcus asked.

  “It didn’t start out that way,” Berkshire said as he took a seat across from them.

  Lizbeth frowned. “Excuse me? Can you explain that, please?”

  “Dr. Stevens—a man—was Addie’s doctor but his own doctor forced his retirement due to poor health. It seems his daughter, Miss Rayne Stevens had been working with him for a while after finishing her medical training and stepped in to take her father’s place.”

  “And you are all right with that?” Marcus asked.

  “Yes. She is quite competent, and frankly, having recently finished training, I believe she will be more up to date on new procedures.”

  “Good for you. You are truly a gem among men.” Lizbeth raised her empty glass in a salute. Then she turned to Marcus. “And you as well.”

  Lizbeth slid the key into the lock of Once Upon a Book. It was nearly nine o’clock, and the store was due to open in about a half hour. She was working all day, but Mr. Finch was coming in around noon. He wanted to make some changes in the store which he would do while she dealt with the customers.

  As she pulled the dust cloth off the display counter near the door, the sunlight streaming through the window caught the betrothal ring on her left hand.

  She smiled as she looked at her finger. She still found it hard to believe that she was about to be married. Well, in another month. Addie had again insisted on holding the wedding breakfast for Lizbe
th and Marcus, even though she heard about their engagement the day after her daughter, Lady Judith Hartley had been born.

  Pamela had also stepped in to host the event, but Addie was adamant. Marcus was her brother and she would hold the wedding breakfast. That announcement was made with an outburst of tears. Berkshire patted her on the back and said as long as it was at least a month away, he would allow it.

  Truth be told Lizbeth was glad it was a month off. Marcus had been teasing her with kisses every chance he got. She was still a long way off from what he would hope to experience on their wedding night, but he did push her a little bit each time.

  The following day Lizbeth had an appointment with an excellent dressmaker who would fashion her wedding dress as well as a complete wardrobe.

  Mrs. Mallory, who glowed with happiness every time she looked at Lizbeth’s betrothal ring, had set up the appointment. She also offered to go with her for guidance, which Lizbeth was thrilled to have since the thought of a fashionable modiste quite frightened her.

  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.