Henry turned to leave, keeping hold of Amala’s arm as they walked—both trembling—toward the doors at the back of the building. A thousand thoughts raced through Amala’s mind in a matter of seconds, but they brought her to one firm and solid conclusion. It was over. She could never be with Henry. She wasn’t even certain she could look him in the face. The moment they came through the doors and into the open air, she broke free from him and ran as fast as she could manage on her quivering legs. She prayed he wouldn’t try to follow her, not wanting a scene in the churchyard, where people might be passing by and notice. Everett saw her coming and opened the carriage door for her. She didn’t even allow herself to glance back over her shoulder before she stepped into the carriage and collapsed onto the seat, heaving with sobs before the carriage was even in motion.

Chapter Six

RUNNING AWAY

Back at the carriage house, Amala was glad that Everett left her alone to do her crying privately and that he didn’t even ask what had happened. She knew they would talk about it, and he likely knew that too. But at another time, when she wasn’t so upset. After Amala’s tears had finally settled into a numb kind of shock, she composed herself enough to go into the house, asking one of the maids to inform her parents that she was home, she was not feeling well, and she would not be joining them for tea. She hurried up to her room, kicked off her shoes, and crawled into her bed, not caring how it would wrinkle her dress. Her head hurt from all of her crying, and her heart felt so broken that it seemed to physically ache in the center of her chest. She couldn’t even think about Henry, what he might be doing, how he might be feeling. She couldn’t think about what the vicar had said or everything that had led up to such a horrible exchange. She couldn’t think of what a fool she’d been to even allow herself to get caught up in her feelings for Henry and ignore the inevitable repercussions. There was nothing at all she could think of that didn’t amplify the pain in both her heart and her head, so she just tried to force all thoughts out of her head and found herself simply staring at the wall, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, caring about nothing.

When her mother peeked in to check on her, she pretended to be asleep, and she wished long afterward that she could sleep. At least then she would be oblivious to this all-consuming, numbing, inconsolable pain.

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