Darcy turned his attention back to the rain streaking across the carriage window. "I’m sorry, Burke, my mood is a little black at the moment."
That earned him a long look. Burke was a former army captain and he was capable of a piercing stare that would put fear into the heart of any enemy soldier. He pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. "Indeed? Most gentlemen would improve after leaving a house they have spent the last several weeks trying to escape."
"I was not trying to escape."
"No?" Burke settled more comfortably against the squabs. "Then I apologise. It looked very like it. You have been like a bear with a sore head since the lady arrived and worse still since she left."
Darcy fixed him with a look that would have silenced most men.
Burke, having long since become immune to such things, merely raised an eyebrow.
"The weather is poor, that is all," said Darcy at last. "And I had hoped to make better time."
"Yes, sir," said Burke gravely. "That must be it."
Darcy looked out of the window again. The rain was growing worse and the countryside beyond the glass was almost impossible to make out. They had passed very few travellers in the last hour and it was unlikely they would make it much further today.
"We should have changed horses at the last village," said Burke unhelpfully.
Darcy clenched his jaw. "The next coaching inn cannot be far."
Burke leaned slightly to peer past him through the rain. "No. But the road between here and there is making a fair attempt to become a river."
The carriage rocked hard to one side and then corrected itself. One of the horses whinnied sharply. Darcy reached for the strap above the door just as the coachman called back something unintelligible through the wind.
Burke opened the small front window and shouted, "What was that?"
The answer came back broken by rain.
Burke closed the panel and looked at Darcy. "Carriage ahead, sir."
Darcy frowned. "On the road?"
"Off it, by the looks of things."
A minute later the vehicle came into view. It sat at an awkward angle beside the road, half in a ditch, the body tilted and one wheel sunk deep into mud. There were no horses in sight. At first Darcy saw only the broken wheel and splattered paintwork. There must have been an accident earlier in the day and the carriage was awaiting recovery. Then the curtain inside moved. Good God, could someone be within?
"Stop," he ordered, banging on the roof.
The carriage drew up with difficulty. Darcy was out almost before it had fully halted, his boots sinking into the mud as the rain struck him full in the face. Burke followed at once, far moresensibly taking a lantern from a hook inside before he climbed down.
"There’s someone here," Darcy shouted into the wind.
"Aye, sir. Best see if they’re alive or hurt. It’s a filthy night!"
"There’s definitely someone inside," said Burke, holding the lantern higher and squinting through the glass.
Darcy rapped sharply against the carriage door. There was no answer at first. He tried the handle and found it bolted from within. "Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"
For a moment there was only the sound of the storm. Rain drummed against the roof of the stranded carriage and ran in sheets down the windows. Then, from somewhere within, came a faint voice.
The reply was quiet and somewhat unsteady. "Yes." It was a distinctly feminine voice.
Darcy started. A woman alone in a broken carriage and by the looks of it alone. Who would ever leave a woman unprotected in such conditions? "Are you injured?"
There was a long pause. He pressed his ear against the carriage, straining to listen for any noise.
Finally there was a weak voice. "I... I do not think so."
