All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(99)

            Cecily entered the room, her eyes widening when she took in the packed trunk. “What’s happening?”

            “I’m going to Scotland. To Aunt Daphne. Mama will be venturing there soon. I’m just departing sooner to get settled in,” she said with forced brightness.

            “Very well,” Cecily said slowly. “Discounting the fact that you are married now and might be expected to reside with your husband, I thought you didn’t want to live with your Aunt Daphne.”

            Aurelia shrugged. “I thought it would be lonely.” And boring. But then, she wouldn’t mind a little tedium. She’d endured enough excitement and upheaval. She stroked her stomach as though she could already feel the child growing there. “I won’t be lonely. I’ll have Aunt Daphne, Mama, the baby . . .” Her gaze locked on Cecily. “And you. I hope I’ll have you.”

            Cecily hesitated, and it occurred to Aurelia that perhaps she had plans of her own that did not include rusticating in an obscure corner of Scotland. Then her friend smiled. “Of course. Of course I’ll go with you.”

            They embraced. “Now,” Cecily said, “you look about finished here. I’ll send a footman for the trunk and then go pack my things.” She started to leave, but hesitated at the door. “Have you told your husband yet? Does he know you’re leaving?”

            Aurelia shook her head. “I’ll leave a note.”

            Cecily looked uncertain. “Perhaps you should talk. There could be a chance—”

            “No. There’s no chance. He doesn’t want this child.” Again her hand went to her stomach. The prospect of the baby saved her from total bleakness. “And he never wanted me.”

            Her heart was broken, but it had not stopped beating. She was not like Max, unable to love. She would love this baby enough for both of them. She had to.

            Max woke with a raging headache. The afternoon sunlight streaming into the room felt like knives in his eyeballs. It only took a few moments for the events of the night before to flood over him, and then he knew he deserved every bit of the agony he was experiencing.

            Had he actually reacted like such a bloody bastard when Aurelia told him she was increasing? She had to be frightened, dreading the moment she told him. She knew he didn’t want children. He had made that abundantly clear. And then he had gone and acted like he’d been dealt a death blow.

            He rose, pressing the base of his palm to one eye and then the other as pain spiked through his skull. He had to see Aurelia. He had to apologize.

            He staggered to his feet and made his way to the basin. Splashing water on his face, he studied his red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. He had to apologize and tell her . . .

            He looked at himself, wondering if this was the man he wanted to be. Someone who drank himself into a stupor because he’d been given news that would overjoy most husbands. Gazing at himself, he saw a weak man in the mirror.

            Weak like his father.

            Weak like the man he swore he would never become.

            “Hell.” He pushed himself up from the basin, ready to find his wife. Ready to hold her and tell her he was going to be a good father.

            He knocked once before opening the door to her chamber. She wasn’t there, which wasn’t so unusual for the middle of the day. He started to turn away when he noticed the doors to her armoire wide-open. He inched forward, his stomach tightening. It was empty. No clothes.

            His gaze swung around the room, his stomach now pitching violently. He caught sight of the dressing table. It, too, was clear of items. No brush or perfumes. There was nothing left of her here.

            She was gone.