Georgie Lee - Rescued From Ruin

Her teasing smile faded and a soft understanding filled her eyes. ‘Everyone’s life does.’

He’d watched stone-faced while mistresses wailed, and had stepped casually to one side to avoid an errant porcelain figure lobbed at him. None of those overwrought reactions had cut him to the core like her simple comment. For the second time in as many minutes the shame of his past gnawed at him before he crushed it down.

‘Good.’ He smiled with more glib humour than he felt, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘Because in London I’m a very good acquaintance to have—especially for someone who’s left her reputation across the Atlantic.’

‘I shall keep it in mind. Good evening, Lord Falconbridge.’

She dipped a curtsy and walked off across the room to join a small circle of matrons standing near the window.

He watched her go—the boy in him desperate to call her back...the man he’d become keeping his shoes firmly rooted to the floor.

The past and the way it influences and affects the present plays a central role in RESCUED FROM RUIN. Randall and Cecelia’s story has elements of that awkward moment we’ve all faced when we run into an old flame or an ex-best friend during a quick trip to the store wearing our yoga pants. No matter what the reality of our lives at that moment, we want to impress that person from our past and show them how much we’ve changed for the better since they last knew us.

For most of us an unexpected reunion in the produce aisle is something to laugh at afterwards, while vowing never to leave the house without make-up again. However, for Cecelia and Randall, meeting again after ten years forces them to do more than show off. They have to face demons and heartaches they’ve both struggled to forget.

An unexpected reunion with the past is something we can all relate to, and it was fun channelling my own experiences into the story to make that first moment Randall and Cecelia meet again realistic.

Rescued

from Ruin

Georgie Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A dedicated history and film buff, GEORGIE LEEloves combining her passion for Hollywood, history and storytelling through romantic fiction. She began writing professionally at a small TV station in San Diego, before moving to Hollywood to work in the interesting but strange world of the entertainment industry. During her years in La-La Land she never lost her love for romance novels and decided to try writing one herself. To her surprise, a new career was born. When not crafting tales of love and happily-ever-after, Georgie enjoys reading non-fiction history and watching any movie with a costume and an accent.

Please visit www.georgie-lee.com to learn more about Georgie and her books. She also loves to hear from readers, and you can e-mail her at georgie.lee@yahoo.com

A previous novel by the same author:ENGAGEMENT OF CONVENIENCE

Did you know that this novel is also available as an eBook? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I’d like to thank my husband, parents and in-laws for all their support, childcare, dinners, and patience while I worked on this book. I couldn’t have done it without all of you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

London 1816

Randall Cheltenham, Marquess of Falconbridge, looked down the length of the salon, his chest tightening as if hit by a low branch while riding.

Cecelia Thompson stood in the doorway, just as she had so many times in his dreams.

When was the last time he’d seen her? Ten years ago? For ever?

Her eyes met his and the image of her standing in a field, the acrid smell of cut grass and damp earth blending with the warmth of the late afternoon sun, overwhelmed him. He was eighteen again and she was here.

Once, he would have sold his soul for this moment. Now, he waited for the tenuous connection to snap and for her soft look to turn hard with disdain. In his experience, it was a rare woman who forgot past slights. He’d played no small part in her decision to leave England; driving people away was a talent he’d possessed in spades back then.

He stood rock-still, anticipating the sneer, but it never came. Instead her face remained soft, her smile easy and genuine. Her brown hair was a shade darker and her hazel eyes, flecked with green, held something of the girl he’d once known, but with an unmistakable maturity. In other women it made them seem hardened by life, but in Cecelia it increased her beauty, surrounding her with an air of mystery more fascinating than the innocence he remembered so well.

Then old Lord Weatherly shuffled between them to greet her and she looked away.

‘You already know the young woman?’ Madame de Badeau gasped, her thick voice pulling his thoughts back to the room. He looked down at the mature French woman standing beside him in her lavender dress, her dark eyes dancing with the thrill of having discovered something new about him after all their years of acquaintance.

‘If you call conversing with her at my uncle’s estate knowing her,’ he said abruptly, uneasy at the obviousness of his reaction and eager to distract his former lover from it. ‘What’s she doing here? I thought she lived in America?’

‘She’s here to find a husband for the cousin.’

Randall finally noticed the young woman standing beside Cecelia. ‘And her husband is with her?’

‘No. He’s dead.’

Randall’s muscles tightened more at the news than the callous way Madame de Badeau delivered it. Cecelia was here and a widow. He swallowed hard, remembering the night Aunt Ella had told him of Cecelia’s marriage to the colonial landowner, his aunt’s soft words raining down on him like the blows from his father’s belt. The wrenching pain of having lost Cecelia so completely was almost the only thing he remembered from that night. The rest was blurred by the haze of alcohol. It was the last time he’d allowed himself to drink.

‘How do you know Mrs Thompson?’ he asked, looking around the room and accidentally catching the demure Miss Thornton’s eye. Lady Thornton, her dragon of a mother, shifted between them to block his view and he met her warning glare with a mocking grin. He wasn’t about to trouble with a green girl. They weren’t worth the effort, not with so many willing widows aching to catch his notice.

‘Cecelia’s mother and I attended the same ladies’ school in France, the one your aunt attended when your grandfather was ambassador there. Cecelia’s family was in the silk trade, quite wealthy at the time. They did a great deal of business with my father, back when the country was civilised. Dreadful revolutionaries.’