Once Upon a Time in Bath (The Brides of Bath #7) - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,75

in to his grief. He had to find Dot.

Before it was too late.

Chapter 21

As Appleton was mounting his horse, Mr. Pankhurst came running from the theatre, Mrs. Blankenship struggling to keep up with him. “What’s going on? Why is my daughter in danger?”

“I’m afraid she’s with the killer.”

“Oh, my God!” her father cried out in an anguished voice.

Mrs. Blankenship shrieked.

“I must go,” Appleton barked. “There’s a chance he’s taken her to an abandoned church this side of the river.”

“I know it,” Mrs. Blankenship said, rushing off to summon the Pankhurst coach.

Appleton couldn’t wait. He sped off. He tore through the dark, quiet streets of Bath, and when he reached the Pulteney Bridge, he turned north and spurred on his mount. If Wolf were planning to abduct Dot, he would have had a vehicle that could accommodate at least two persons. Therefore, it would take him longer than a solo rider on a horse to get to the church—if, indeed, that was his destination.

As Appleton neared the church, his blood froze. For just outside the door, a phaeton drawn by a single horse had been tied to a tree.

Please, God, don’t let me be too late.

He leapt from his horse and raced toward the church’s weathered door, flinging it open. It was as dark as the inside of a coffin. “So help me, Wolf, I’m going to kill you!” he yelled into the blackness as he rushed from the vestibule into the church.

“Dot! Dot, are you unharmed?”

“Be careful, Forrester! He’s got a knife!”

Those were the sweetest words he’d ever heard. He rushed down the nave faintly illuminated from a lantern Wolf had apparently provided for himself. Dot was in one corner, and Wolf stood just before the sacristy, staring at Appleton. Dot had obviously not easily given in to the murderer.

“Get out of here, Dot!” Appleton called. Better that Wolf kill him than his innocent fiancée. Though Appleton rarely carried a weapon of any sort, because he had been traveling today, he had armed himself with a knife. As he stood at the back of the church, he unsheathed it, determined to make Wolf come to him.

Dot scurried around the church’s perimeter until she reached him. But she was making no effort to leave. “Go on,” he urged her.

She sniffed. Several times. “I can’t leave you.” Sniff. Sniff. “I couldn’t live without you.”

“Nor could I without you.”

She burst into tears.

Wolf crept down the nave like a tiger on soft paws.

“Please, Dot, for me. You must leave.” If Wolf killed him, he’d turn immediately on Dot.

She inched toward the door, and Appleton almost went limp from relief. But he must be on his guard.

Though nothing in his life had prepared Appleton for hand-to-hand knife fighting, he would stay there and face this vile murderer. When they were lads he’d always had the advantage.

With each step closer the murderer came, the faster Appleton’s heart beat. He tried to stay in the darkness that shrouded the rear wall. If he moved toward Wolf, the lantern’s light would make him an easier target.

Though Wolf wasn’t a large man, as he stealthily moved toward Appleton, he seemed far bulker than ever Appleton remembered him. So many thoughts flashed through Appleton’s brain. What if the wealthy man’s purse had procured for him skilled teachers in the art of pugilism? Or had a superior fencing master instructed him how to swiftly deflect his opponent and go in for the kill?

When no more than a dozen feet separated them, Appleton eyed Wolf’s stomach and hurled his knife at the wide target.

Wolf yelped in pain as he sank to the floor, but he still managed to bring his arm over his head to pitch his knife at Appleton.

Appleton ducked. Steel collided with stone. Thank God Dot was no longer standing behind him.

The thundering sound of horse hooves sounded, quickly followed by the church’s door slamming open. “Thank God you’re unharmed,” Mr. Pankhurst said to his daughter. Dot must have stayed in the vestibule.

Still watching the man on the floor, Appleton shifted his gaze enough to see Pankhurst’s coachman. His legs planted, the coachman aimed a musket at Wolf.

Dot rushed to Appleton. He crushed her into his arms. “I’ve been mad with worry,” he said huskily as he pressed kisses to her cherished face. “Tomorrow we marry, my much-treasured love.”

Epilogue

The wedding had been performed and all the breakfast guests had departed—save one: Mrs. James Blankenship. Forrester came up behind Dot, enclosing her in his arms as he nuzzled his face into