They had been traveling most of the morning when it started to rain. Wind whistled. The normal gentle rocking of the carriage soon grew uneven and jerky. Aurelia began to feel queasy. Typically, her stomach wasn’t so sensitive. She knew the cause could be her condition, but she suspected it had more to do with the turbulence of her feelings.
She was conflicted. As much as she believed she needed to leave for her sake—and her unborn child—it left her slightly ill. She thought of Max’s face when he learned she left. She imagined the shock followed swiftly by tears of regret. She snorted. It was a ridiculous image. Max wallowing in grief because of her was as likely as him loving her.
“Are you all right?” Cecily asked when she noticed her holding her stomach.
Aurelia nodded. “Just a little bumpy.”
“It’s the wind.” She nodded, her gaze skimming the walls of the carriage pensively. “Perhaps we should signal the driver to stop?”
“We’re still a distance from the next town. Even if we stop we’ll still be buffeted with wind and rain,” she reasoned.
The wind howled shrilly then, lifting over the sound of rain. Cecily’s eyes rounded and she angled her head, gazing at Aurelia in a way that seemed to say, Are you certain of that?
“Surely the driver would stop if it’s too dangerous to continue on.” A thin thread of doubt hung to her words.
They held silent for a moment, swaying where they sat on the squabs. The carriage gave a little lurch and Aurelia grasped the strap that hung near her head to keep her balance. She sent Cecily a nervous smile she had intended to be reassuring.
“Perhaps we could find a crofter’s cottage and—” Cecily’s suggestion was cut off as a sudden howl punched through the steady beat of rain.
A thunderous crack followed, reminiscent of bone cracking. When she was a girl, Will had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. She remembered the terrible snapping sound of the bone breaking in that spilt second. This was like that. Ugly and sharp. Only louder.
The carriage slammed into a wall. At least that was how it felt. She knew there were no walls on the north road, but the impact jarred her to the teeth. Her head snapped on her neck as the carriage heaved sideways. She and Cecily tumbled from their seats in a flurry of skirts and tangling limbs. Fear lodged in her throat. Everything slowed to a grinding crawl as they were tossed around the inside of the carriage like marbles in a box. Her chest clenched. Squeezed. Air ceased to flow. Pain scraped her elbow and her mouth opened wide.
A scream reverberated in her ears. Shrill and as endless as the rolling carriage.
It registered dimly. As though she were someone else, somewhere else. Looking down at the scene from afar.
However, the ringing scream was her own.
Chapter 25
She hadn’t bothered to cover her tracks. She took one of his coachmen and carriages. Which only indicated to him that she didn’t think he would care. She didn’t think he would give pursuit.
She was wrong.
Max rejected taking a carriage himself, knowing he would catch up with her faster on horseback. An hour after departing, with London well behind him, it started to rain. A steady downpour that soon soaked him to the bone.
He didn’t let the rain stop him. If anything, it would slow her down. He knew she couldn’t be far ahead. He pushed himself harder through the deluge. Fortunately there was no lightning, so he didn’t have to concern himself with that danger.
Time crawled. His thoughts spun to the rhythm of rain and pounding hooves. She left him. She was his wife. She carried his child.