“Alas, I learned of his perfidy myself. But I’ll explain that later. Right now we need to ensure Wheeler doesn’t escape justice.”
“He exited through the gate at Baldwin’s Bec,” said Charlotte.
Wrexford needed only an instant to decide on their next moves. “Actually, your presence is a blessing in disguise,” he said to von Münch. “You can deal with the authorities while Charlotte and the boys slip away with Milton’s papers without anyone noticing their presence here tonight.”
He paused. “Be advised that Fenway is also the enemy. Tell the town officials that the provost is guilty of several nefarious crimes and must be taken into custody. Let us hope that your head wound will add enough veracity to the claim that they will have no choice but to detain Fenway until the confusion is sorted out.”
“Don’t worry, milord,” replied von Münch as he sat up gingerly. “I shall be very persuasive.”
Charlotte gave a reluctant nod, understanding that it was the only way to guard their family secrets. “I take it you are going after Wheeler.” It was said as a statement, not a question.
“He must be held accountable for his crimes,” said Wrexford simply.
She looked away without arguing, but not before he saw the look of stark fear in her eyes.
“From the bulge in Wheeler’s boot, I think he has a knife,” piped up Raven.
“I take it you have yours with you?”
“Oiy.” Raven pulled out the stag-handled blade that the earl had given him during the first days of their acquaintance and held it out.
Much water has passed under the bridge since that moment,its currents often swirling with perilous eddies,reflected Wrexford as he took the knife and tucked it away.
And yet, he reminded himself,we have navigated all the dangers.
“I think I know where Wheeler is headed.” He turned for the corridor. “I need to hurry.”
“Wrex,” uttered Charlotte in a low voice. “He’s a cold-blooded killer.”
“His victims didn’t see him coming. With me, he won’t have that advantage.” A martial glint gave his gaze a steely gleam. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him get away.”
CHAPTER 31
Mist rose up from the river, fogging the footpath as it narrowed and snaked through the trees. Wrexford could hear the low rush of water against the banks as he quickened his pace.
Clouds scudded across the night sky, darkening the shadows that flitted all around. Still, just a few minutes ago, as the path crested a rise before dropping back down toward the river, Wrexford had caught a glimpse of his quarry silhouetted in a flicker of moonlight.
His guess had been right. Wheeler was heading for Windsor Bridge, where he had been overseeing extensive renovations to the structure, as requested by the Prince Regent, who adored pomp and pageantry and wished to have a more regal look to the main route for traveling from Windsor Castle to the royal palaces in London.
It was a clever choice for making his escape. Crossing over to the vast grounds surrounding the castle would make it easy to move around unseen, and the various stables and outbuildings offered ample opportunity to steal a horse. By dawn, Wheeler could be miles away, with a multitude of choices for reaching the coast and slipping away to the Continent.
The thought spurred Wrexford to greater speed.
Milton’s murderer must not be allowed to cross the bridge.
Wheeler was heavyset and not a speedy runner. The earl’s long-legged stride gave him the advantage. Spotting a shortcut, he raced across a swath of meadowland, then plunged down a steep embankment, gaining precious ground. As the path flattened and followed the contours of the river, he could see Wheeler up ahead.
His quarry turned for an instant to look behind him and stumbled before regaining his stride.
Wrexford kept up his relentless pursuit. He knew from his military experience that panic would take its toll on Wheeler, both mentally and physically. When the confrontation came, that would give him an advantage.
The gap between them was closing.
“Give yourself up,” he called. “I won’t let you escape.”
Wheeler lowered his head and kept running.
The breeze had freshened, dispelling the silvery vapor, and suddenly the dark skeleton of the bridge renovation loomed up on the hill just ahead. Wheeler raced into a large work area where iron girders and wooden beams sat on trestles covered with canvas tarps. Blocks of stone were stacked in an adjacent section, while another part of the clearing was filled with coils of rope, lengths of chains, and a storage shed for tools.
