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Fear burst in Edward’s chest, but he shoved it away. “Leave her be,” he snarled, grasping the man’s collar and tugging him upwards so that he might plant another fist into his face in the hope that he might be knocked unconscious. “She has done nothing to you.”
Unfortunately for Edward, the man was stronger than he had first realized. Ducking out of Edward’s approaching fist, he then grasped Edward’s collar and, without hesitating, slammed his forehead into Edward’s face.
Pain seared its way across the bridge of Edward’s nose, forcing him to let out a howl of pain, his fingers loosening on the fellow’s coat. The man took the opportunity to twist away and began to run from the scene, reminding Edward of what had happened before.
I shall not let you escape this time, Edward said to himself, setting aside his pain and hurrying after the man. He was quite convin
ced that this was the very same gentleman that had been here the first time, given his intentions towards Miss Wells and the fact that he knew she had witnessed the murder. He had to catch the man this time. He could not allow him to escape.
The sound of a horse whinnying and a loud shout echoed down the street as Edward ran as hard as he could, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He rounded the gentle corner, only to come across a carriage stopped dead in the middle of the road. The driver was sitting, frozen, in his seat, his eyes fixed on a man lying by the side of the carriage, his features illuminated by the lanterns that the carriage held.
From within the carriage, Edward could hear a gentleman muttering something entirely incomprehensible and, as he glanced inside, saw a gentleman trying to keep his eyes open, swaying from side to side as he fought to retain his seat.
“You are taking your master home,” he said quickly, looking up at the driver who gave him a tiny nod. “This fellow, he—”
“He just ran out,” the driver stammered, his face pale in the dim light. “I didn’t see him, sir. I didn’t mean to do this!”
Edward nodded and tried to reassure the driver. “It was not your fault,” he said firmly, hoping that the driver would feel encouraged by this and not allow himself to fill with guilt. “Come now, we must get the body to—”
Having presumed that the man was dead, it came as a surprise to Edward to hear him groaning aloud. Edward dropped to his knees at once, looking down into the man’s face and seeing his eyes flicker open.
“What is it you want with Miss Titania Wells?” he asked, aware that the man had very little time left on this earth, given that blood was trickling slowly from the side of his mouth and that each breath seemed to be a great labor. “What is it that you seek from her?”
Nothing but a rasping breath met his questions, sending frustration flurrying through Edward’s veins.
“Why do you pursue her?” he asked again, wanting to grasp the man’s collar and shake him hard until he answered, but choosing to refrain from doing so. “What is it that you want? Is it because she saw your face? Is that what you fear?”
The man laughed horribly, his chuckle rattling through him. “She has it,” he whispered, his face contorted as he closed his eyes. “Ravel must have it back.”
Edward opened his mouth to demand more answers from the fellow, to know precisely what it was he spoke of, only for the man’s mouth to stretch into a wide smile and then fade away to nothing, his eyes closing completely and his whole body going limp.
The sounds of his rasping breath faded to nothing. It was clear that he was dead.
Closing his eyes, Edward slumped as he settled his hands in his lap, his irritation growing steadily. He certainly did not know what it was that Miss Titania Wells had in her possession that this man had referred to, nor had he any particular idea of when she had taken this unknown item. He was suddenly afraid that Miss Wells was involved with the French.
“Is he….?”
The question from the driver forced Edward to look up, his sigh answering the question.
“I shall deal with this matter,” he reassured the driver, aware that the poor fellow was trembling visibly. “Take your master home and do not allow any guilt to capture your heart and mind, good sir. I have absolute certainty that there is nothing about this incident that sends any guilt to your shoulders.”
The driver nodded, although he did not look convinced. His hands were still tight on the reins as he turned towards the horses again, trying to find the strength to do as Edward had asked.
“Shall you inform his family, sir?” he asked, as Edward rose to his feet. The driver’s voice was quavering, his fear more than apparent. “You’ll tell whomever it is that he belongs to?”
Edward’s voice was hard. “This fellow was nothing more than a French spy, my good man. You have nothing to concern yourself about.”
The driver’s eyes widened as he turned his head to stare at Edward.
“I can assure you it is quite true,” Edward promised, putting both hands behind his back. “You have helped bring to justice both a spy and a murderer, even though it was quite unintentional, I know.” He gave the driver a tight smile. “Off with you now. Take your master home.”
The driver cleared his throat, his expression still one of astonishment. “Of course, sir,” he muttered, clearly now feeling a little better. “And thank you, sir.”
Edward nodded and waited until the driver and the carriage had disappeared from sight before returning his attention back to the body of the spy. He would have to ensure that the body was removed and buried somewhere quiet, but, thankfully, he knew precisely whom to call upon. This was not the first time he had been required to do such a thing and certainly it would not be the last time either. With a deep breath, he reached down and grasped the dead man’s arms, pulling him towards the shadows in the hope that he would find some quiet, dark nook in which to place him. Then, he could make arrangements for the body to be removed.
“Just what is it that you have, Miss Wells?” he muttered aloud, his body burning with fatigue as he pulled the spy across the cobbled streets. “Why were they seeking you?” Part of him feared that Miss Wells was involved with the French, that she was deliberately encouraging the French, but he was doing his utmost to dismiss the idea. Most likely, she had something in her possession that she did not realize the significance of. Had she known Stirling? Was there a connection there he did not yet realize?
Sighing heavily, Edward pushed the body into a small alleyway, knowing that he only had a few hours in which to have it removed. His mind was working hard, trying to make sense of what he had discovered from the spy and wondering at the connection to Miss Titania Wells.
