Second Chance Cinderella by Carla Capshaw

Author:Carla Capshaw
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Rose awoke before dawn the next morning. Despite her prayers, she’d slept fitfully, once she’d slept at all. Sam’s reaction to Andrew was both a blessing and a curse. Andrew needed his father and she wanted what was best for him, but the future with Sam and what his presence meant to their lives remained a quagmire of questions.

To make matters more complicated, she’d admitted to herself that she’d never stopped loving him. As much as she’d tried to banish him from her heart through the years, she’d failed at every turn.

Not that her epiphany would do the slightest bit of good. She had no doubt Sam would adore Andrew, but he had made it clear the love he’d once felt for her was buried in the past.

As she wrestled with her agony, predawn turned to first light. The townhouse began to stir and she listened to the faint bang of a pot in the kitchen and unintelligible voices of delivery men outside on the street below the window.

Eager to begin the journey back to Andrew, she pushed off the heavy covers and slipped from the canopied bed. She straightened the counterpane and stoked the fire before using the pitcher of water and basin to wash for the day.

She pulled a dressing gown over the night rail Mrs. Frye had left for her use and pushed her feet into a pair of soft slippers. Without her own garments to dress in there was nothing for her to do except wait for someone to bring them. She considered putting on the turquoise gown, but the intricate buttons down the back required an extra set of hands. Besides, Mrs. Frye had let her borrow the frock for an evening, not indefinitely. She didn’t want to take advantage of the good woman’s kindness.

With nothing to pack, she went to the window. The morning sun rose higher. The storm had cleared, leaving slick, wet streets and puddles along the curb to bear witness to its passage.

Sam’s coach and matched black horses pulled up in front of the townhouse. The driver set the brake and jumped down from his perch to inspect the wheels while the footman unlatched the garden gate at the end of the walkway.

Gusts of wind rustled the trees in the square and along the street, littering the ground with bright autumn leaves in shades of red and gold.

A few moments later Sam appeared on the steps. A severe, aloof figure in a black frock coat and trousers, silver cravat and top hat, he reeked of wealth and command. He stopped long enough to issue clipped, indiscernible instructions to his driver before climbing into the luxurious vehicle.

Rose knocked on the window to draw his attention, but none of the men seemed to hear her. The driver took his place in the box and unfurled his whip. Through the coach’s glass panes, Rose watched Sam settle into the black leather seat. He removed his hat and tossed it onto the empty place beside him.

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