Carla Capshaw - Second Chance Cinderella

“I’ll Wait for You Forever.”

Heartbroken when her childhood love never returned, Rose Smith soon learned she had even greater worries—she carried his child. Ten years later as a housemaid in London, she encounters Samuel Blackstone. The kind youth she adored has turned bitter with success. Feeling out of place in Sam’s high-society world, Rose fears what he may do when he learns of their son….

A wealthy stockbroker, Sam is used to getting what he wants. And when he learns that Rose bore him a son, he wants to claim his family. But he’ll have to convince Rose to trust him again if he’s to have any hope of meeting the boy…or recapturing her heart.

“I’m not excusing my behavior—”

“Good.”

Sam stiffened imperceptibly. Rose doubted he’d been treated with anything less than deference in ages. Where she got the brass to be cheeky she didn’t know, but remembering he had the power to alter her life for the worse, she thought better of acting outright insolent.

His lips tightened, but he soldiered on. “I had hoped you might consider forgiving me on account of our past...association. We were good friends once, or don’t you remember?”

Her fingers tightened into the arms of the padded leather armrest. As far as she was concerned, the word friend was an insult to what they’d shared. He’d been her reason to wake up each morning and her last thought each night. Even now, there were nights when he filled her dreams. Without him, she’d been wretched. The world had been fierce and frigid. If not for the Lord and His guiding hand, she didn’t know where she’d be.

“How could I forget?” she whispered.

CARLA CAPSHAW

Florida native Carla Capshaw is a preacher’s kid who grew up grateful for her Christian home and loving family. Always dreaming of being a writer and world traveler, she followed her wanderlust around the globe, including a year spent in the People’s Republic of China, before beginning work on her first novel.

A two-time RWA Golden Heart Award winner and double RITA® Award finalist, Carla loves passionate stories with compelling, nearly impossible conflicts. She’s found that inspirational historical romance is the perfect vehicle to combine lush settings, vivid characters and a Christian worldview. Currently at work on her next manuscript for Love Inspired Historical, she still lives in Florida, but is always planning her next trip…and plotting her next story.

Carla loves to hear from readers. To contact her, visit www.carlacapshaw.comor write to Carla@carlacapshaw.com.

Second Chance Cinderella

Carla Capshaw

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.

—Psalms 119:105

To Dottie, her favorite Andrew and our second chance at friendship.

Contents

Prologue

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

Dear Reader:

Extract

Prologue

Devonshire, England

November, 1833

“Please don’t cry, Rosie.” Sam Blackstone gazed into the glistening blue eyes of the only girl he’d ever loved.

A few feet away, Ezra Stark’s magnificent coach stood ready to convey him to London and a new life filled with possibilities—a far cry from sleepy Ashby Croft, with its cob-n-thatch cottages and meandering muddy lanes that led to nowhere.

Rose’s slender fingers curled around the frayed edges of his open coat front. “I’m afraid you won’t come back to me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t be a daft little goose.” He tried to cajole a smile from her, but the effort was a lost cause.

Painfully aware she’d been abandoned by everyone else who should have cared for her, he pulled her close and breathed in the light scent of rosewater she’d favored ever since he’d bought a bottle for her birthday last spring.

Her sadness tore at his heart. She’d endured more disappointment and hardship in her sixteen years than a soul should have to bear in a lifetime. All he wanted was to make her happy.

He kissed the top of her head, savoring the feel of her in his arms. He dreaded leaving her, but he had to go. Mr. Stark had made it clear he wanted to be away before the village fully awakened.

“Listen to me, luv.” Sam dabbed Rosie’s tear-streaked face with the embroidered handkerchief she’d fashioned for him last Christmas. “This is our chance. Mr. Stark thinks I have a real gift for numbers. The clerk’s position he’s offered me is a stunner of a job. At sixty quid a year there’ll be no need for more gambling or thieving to earn our daily crust.”

He motioned to the ramshackle inn across the rutted street where she slaved as a maid for a pittance. The stagecoach waited out front and several travelers were already milling about in preparation to leave. “I want more for you than working your fingers to the bone day in and day out. Maybe someday we can even buy a cottage by the sea like we always dreamed of.”

“But...” She glanced nervously toward the gleaming lacquered coach and matched team of four gray horses nickering impatiently. “What if Mr. Stark isn’t who he claims ta be? What if—”

“He is, Rosie, no doubt. I told you before, if you’d seen how high-an-mighty Sir Percival was bowing and scraping around him you’d know you needn’t fret.” He tucked the handkerchief in his coat pocket and cupped her shoulders. The threadbare gloves she’d darned for him too many times to count did little to protect his callused hands from the late-autumn chill.

A gust of wind tugged at the brim of Rose’s worn brown cap, exposing her golden-blond hair. Having grown up as orphans, neither of them was used to the fineries of life, but if he had his way, it wouldn’t be long before she was turned out in the softest linen and richest silks. She deserved jewels and servants to see to her every whim. He was bound and determined to give them to her.

“I’ll be back from London within a month...afore the trees are bare. I’ll save every ha’penny and the minute I come back we’ll get married just as we always said we would.”

A ray of sunlight pierced the gloomy morning. A tremulous smile turned her soft, pink lips. “I like the sound of that. It’s about time I brought you up to scratch.”

“And here I was thinking I’d finally be making an honest woman of you.” He grinned. “Jus’ proves how much we need each other.”

Her faint smile faltered. “I can’t help feeling something bad is bound to happen.”

“Worrywart.” He tweaked her chin and laughed, despite the tightness banding his chest. How he dreaded leaving her when she was so afraid. They’d never been parted more than a day or two, but there was no help for it if they were ever to be more than a pair of bootlickers. “I’m going to town, not to war, sweetheart. Besides, even if I turned up my toes—”