Rescued from Ruin

by Georgie Lee

  ‘If you have more editions like this one, I’ll gladly purchase them. Hunting books of such quality command a good price,’ the bookseller offered.

  ‘These are the only ones I have. I wouldn’t even part with them now except I’m a widow and no longer in the country and I have little use for them.’ Cecelia flashed the bookseller an innocent smile, but Randall caught the lie in the way her fingers worried her gold bracelet.

  ‘Of course. Please excuse me while I confer with my associate on a fair sum.’ He laid the book on the stack and walked off down the counter.

  Cecelia pulled the book to her and ran one finger over the leather, tracing the gold-tooled title. Her chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh and Randall took one step, ready to stride to her, take her in his arms and soothe away the shadows in her eyes, but he couldn’t, not in such a public place.

  He glanced at the door, wondering again if he should go, but he wasn’t about to leave her here alone in such misery.

  ‘Good morning,’ he greeted, joining her.

  ‘Randall.’ She jumped, a deep crimson spreading over her pale cheeks, as if he’d caught her reaching over the counter with her hand in the till. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘You sound surprised to see me in a bookseller’s shop.’

  A tiny smirk raised one corner of her lips. ‘If I remember correctly, you were not one for scholarship.’

  ‘People can change.’

  The faint humour faded. ‘Yes, of course, but in my experience, they rarely do.’

  The bookseller returned with a slip of paper and passed it across the counter to her. ‘Is this satisfactory?’

  She glanced at the sum with a frown. ‘They are fine books.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s a fair price,’ he countered.

  ‘Is it?’ Randall asked and both Cecelia and the seller stared at him. Randall opened the large book and turned the pages, admiring the watercolours of pheasants and ducks. ‘I can’t remember when I’ve seen such an excellent book. Any gentleman would pay a top price for it.’

  He pinned the bookseller with a pointed look. The man shifted on his feet, looking nervously back and forth between them, and Randall could practically hear his purse strings loosening.

  ‘Of course. Let me speak with my associate and see if we can do better.’ The bookseller hurried away.

  ‘Randall, this isn’t necessary. I only wish to be rid of the books, not fleece the gentleman for every shilling.’ The lie lingered in the hope which brightened her eyes and the fast movement of her fingers on the bracelet. At this rate, she would soon wear the gold through.

  The bookseller returned and handed her another folded paper. ‘Will this do?’

  She read the note, her eyebrows rising at the new amount. ‘Yes, this will do.’

  The bookseller handed a small envelope across the counter. ‘It was a pleasure doing business with you. If you receive any more books from Virginia, I’d be most happy to have them.’

  ‘Thank you, and you, too, Randall. Good day to you both.’ She slipped the envelope into her reticule and turned to leave, but Randall stepped between her and the door.

  ‘Perhaps I can tempt you with tea. I know a place not far from here. It’s a respectable establishment and I promise not to do anything scandalous.’

  Her lips drew up in a little smile, but it could have been pure joy for the way it brightened her face. However, even this slight break in the clouds of her unease did not calm her restlessness. ‘I’m sure you’d be quite well behaved, but I’m afraid I can’t. I have other things to attend to today.’

  ‘I see.’ He didn’t protest, not wanting to press her as he had at Lady Thornton’s. ‘Good day, then.’

  He stepped aside and she hurried to the door, pausing to allow an incoming gentleman to hold it open. She cast one last look at Randall before stepping out into the street.

  ‘How may I assist you, Lord Falconbridge?’ the bookseller asked, drawing Randall’s attention across the counter.

  ‘I wish to purchase the large book the lady just sold. I’ll take it with me now. Charge it to my account.’

  Randall picked up the book, tucked it under his arm and left. No doubt the man would charge him double what he’d just paid Cecelia for it, but Randall didn’t care.

  Outside, Randall approached the carriage and the groom standing by the open carriage door, Mr Joshua standing next to him. Down the street, the slash of Cecelia’s yellow cloak caught Randall’s attention. He watched the bright cape move through the growing crowd of people, the book beneath his arm heavy. Her troubles were not his, but he couldn’t let her go.

  He handed the book to Mr Joshua. ‘Take this and put it somewhere where it can’t be seen and wait here with the carriage.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Randall hurried down the street after Cecelia, keeping the cloak in sight over the heads of passing men and women. An unmistakable heaviness slowed her pace and it wasn’t long before he was next to her.

  ‘A beautiful day for a walk, isn’t it?’

  She whirled to face him, her wide, startled eyes narrowing. ‘Did you follow me?’

  ‘I can’t be denied the pleasure of your company.’ He laid one hand on his heart, determined to charm her, but it only deepened her scowl.

  ‘Then I’ll have to disappoint you.’ She started off again, faster this time.

  Randall paused for a young soldier leaning heavily on a cane to pass, then caught up to Cecelia. ‘At least allow me to accompany you.’

  ‘No.’ She turned on him so fast, he took a step back. ‘Now leave me be, I have no patience for your games today. Find someone else to trifle with.’

  ‘I’m not trifling with you.’ His hands tightened at his sides and he nearly left her standing on the pavement stewing in her anger. However, the pain lacing her words kept him still. Whatever her troubles, they ran deeper than her suspicion of his motives and he opened his fingers, letting his concern soften the chafe of her reprimand. ‘I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen you this upset since...’ He paused, not wanting to deepen her wounds by reminding her of the last time they’d been together at Falconbridge Manor. ‘I followed you because I wanted to make sure you’re all right. Forgive me for going about it the wrong way.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ With one shaking hand, she rubbed the back of her neck. ‘I received some bad news from Virginia this morning. A dear friend of mine is very sick.’

  ‘Then allow me to see you home in my carriage. The street is no place to be when you’re upset.’

  She moved closer to him, then stepped back as if changing her mind about accepting his offer. ‘I don’t think I should. It wouldn’t be proper.’

  ‘You needn’t worry.’ He held out his arm. ‘There isn’t anyone up this early to see us.’

  She eyed it as if it were a rotten log wedged in a stream waiting to snag an unsuspecting swimmer, her fingers moving fast on her bracelet. Then she tucked the gold beneath her sleeve and slid her hand under his elbow. ‘Thank you.’

  He examined the slender fingers resting against his dark blue coat, wanting to raise them to his lips and kiss each one, lay her palm against his cheek and listen while she told him her troubles. Instead, he guided her back to the carriage, aware of every rustle of her skirts, each time her cape brushed his hand and the wind slid her perfume over him.

  The groom pulled open the door and Mr Joshua stepped out.

  ‘Mr Joshua, ride with the groom,’ Randall instructed.

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Randall handed Cecelia in, then took the seat across from her, noting the weary way she rested against the squabs and stared out the window. He sensed something deeper in her melancholy than the illness of a friend.

  The carriage rocked into motion, the jangle of equipage steady b
eneath their silence. Despite the bright cloak falling over her arms, she looked small and lonely against the dark wood behind her, her vulnerability bringing Miss Domville’s warning to mind.

  ‘May I offer some advice?’ he ventured. ‘Guard yourself around Madame de Badeau. She isn’t the friendly woman she appears.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she answered with a deep sigh. ‘Theresa and Miss Domville are of the same opinion, but I assure you, I’ve been careful around her.’

  ‘You shouldn’t trouble with her at all.’

  She frowned. ‘I thought she was your friend?’

  He flexed his fingers over his knees. ‘More of an old acquaintance.’

  ‘You mean lover.’

  He threw back his head and laughed. ‘With such a bold tongue you worry about my reputation?’

  ‘No, only mine.’ She folded her hands in her lap and his amusement faded. ‘I would distance myself from her, but I need her help to secure invitations.’

  ‘I can provide all the connections you need.’

  She didn’t look impressed. ‘Imagine how people would whisper if you suddenly took such an interest in me.’

  ‘Yes, they’re so simple minded that way,’ he sneered.

  She cocked her head to study him. ‘You have so much disdain for society, yet you do everything you can to cultivate its opinion. I wonder how much you truly despise it.’

  ‘More than you realise. As for cultivating its opinion, I prefer it to think little of me. It keeps the sycophants and marriage-minded matrons at bay.’

  ‘If that’s your goal, then why not retire to the county like your uncle and be done with it?’

  He tapped his knee. ‘Because, even as you’ve discovered this Season, society is the devil we know.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Her agreement whispered the same longing to be free of society he sometimes experienced before his pride reared up to remind him why he stayed.

  The carriage turned a corner, leaving the busy street for Cecelia’s small neighbourhood before drawing up to her door.

  The groom handed Cecelia down and Randall followed her out, stepping on to the pavement and taking in the square. He’d been so focused on the gift yesterday, he’d failed to notice the dark soot staining the stone and how the park in the centre was more natural than even the current fashion allowed. In a few weeks, it would border on unkempt. This was not a part of London he frequented and it seemed a touch too shabby for a widow of Cecelia’s worth.

  He joined Cecelia at the bottom of the steps leading to her door, studying the small house wedged in between the others. It was neat, but the dull paint on the railing and the small triangles of dirt in the corners of the windows were too obvious to overlook.

  ‘Thank you, Randall, for your kindness.’ She turned, hands in front of her, ready to dismiss him, but he wasn’t ready to go.

  ‘Tell me, why did you sell your books? Are you in need of money?’

  ‘No.’ She clutched the reticule ribbons as if they were a horse team on the verge of bolting. ‘I mean, well, my funds from Virginia have been delayed and it’s been so long since I’ve managed my own affairs. In my excitement to enjoy London, I overspent.’ The words came out in a rush.

  ‘I didn’t think you were enjoying London quite so well.’

  ‘I am—I mean we are, what with all the new gowns and diversions of the city.’ She moved one step higher, as if trying to slide away from him. ‘I can’t believe I was so foolish with my money, but in a very short while, I’ll receive my income from Virginia and have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I see.’ Nothing about her plain yellow cloak or the house and neighbourhood spoke of lavish spending. However, he could easily believe her income from abroad being delayed. His payments from the Maryland Trading Company were often late. ‘When your income arrives from Virginia, you should consider more fashionable lodgings.’

  ‘I will. We were so eager to be settled after arriving in London, I’m afraid I chose the first place available.’ She clasped the key to her chest before lowering her arms. ‘Thank you very much for accompanying me home and for your concern.’

  Her explanations didn’t completely ease his concern. Everything she told him made sense, but not the frightened way she watched him or the strained, nervous way she spoke. It all hinted at something more serious.

  He stepped closer and she took one step up, bringing her face level with his. ‘Cecelia, please believe me when I say I want us to be real friends again. If there is anything I can do for you, you only have to ask.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘I mean, if you’re ever in need of assistance, you have only to come to me for help.’

  She pressed her lips together as though stopping herself from saying something. He drew closer and the heady scent of her flower perfume surrounded him as he waited, willing her to believe him, to tell him her real troubles and ease both of their worries. She tilted her face to his and he raised his hand, aching to trace the sweep of pink along her check, to twine his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of her neck, pull her to him and comfort her with a kiss when the flick of a curtain over her shoulder made him freeze. Miss Fields watched them from the window, not bothering to conceal her interest.

  He straightened and stepped back. In the middle of the street in front of prying eyes was no place to gain Cecelia’s trust.

  She noticed her cousin in the window, the hesitant yearning he felt in her replaced by the stoic widow he’d come to know so well. ‘I assure you, I’m in no trouble at all, but thank you for your concern. Good day.’

  He didn’t stop her as she hurried up the steps and pushed open the door, pausing a moment to look back at him before she slipped inside.

  When it closed, the tarnished knocker clanked against its equally tarnished strike plate. Whatever Cecelia’s situation, it wasn’t as rosy as she’d tried to make him believe.

  Randall strode to the carriage where Mr Joshua stood beside the groom next to the open carriage door.

  Randall was about to climb inside, but the sight of the hunting book lying on the squabs made him pause. He trilled his fingers against the wooden side, the condition of Cecelia’s lodgings and her reaction to the sale of the books nagging at him.

  ‘Mr Joshua, Mrs Thompson mentioned another matter she’s attending to today. I want you to follow her and see where she goes. Be very discreet.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Guilt followed Randall into the carriage. He should trust her and not interfere in her private affairs, but the pain on her face in the bookseller’s haunted him too much to ignore.

  * * *

  Cecelia leaned against the front door, the cloak tight around her neck, its weight oppressive. Through the wood, she heard the equipage of Randall’s carriage and the steady clop of the horses as it drove off down the street.

  She slapped her palm against the wood, the sting not nearly as sharp as her frustration.

  Of all the booksellers in London, she’d chosen the one Randall frequented. She could have stood anyone else seeing her; their words would be vicious but not as searing as the pity in Randall’s eyes.

  ‘I thought you went to the bookseller’s, not out with Lord Falconbridge,’ Theresa remarked from the morning-room door, more amused than curious.

  Cecelia marched to the hall mirror and tugged at the cloak ribbons, eager to be free of the heavy garment. ‘I did, but Lord Falconbridge saw me.’

  Theresa’s amusement disappeared as she rushed to Cecelia’s side. ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I said I wasn’t used to managing my money and my payments from Virginia were late.’ She tugged at the stubborn strings, ready to snap them in order to free herself.

  Theresa gently moved Cecelia’s hands aside and began to work the knot loose
. ‘Do you think he believed you?’

  Not at all. ‘I’m not sure, but I think he did.’

  ‘Maybe if you tell him the truth then he can help us,’ Theresa hazarded.

  ‘I’m not about to tell Randall anything so personal or damaging.’

  Theresa’s eyebrows rose with surprise. ‘Randall?’

  ‘Lord Falconbridge.’ She pushed the girl’s hands away and pulled off the cloak, tossing it over the banister and storming into the morning room. She paced across the rug, anger, worry and fear swirling in her until she thought she might be sick.

  ‘He’s not as bad as you think,’ Theresa offered from the doorway.

  ‘You’re so sure? You know him so well?’ Cecelia snapped, but Theresa didn’t flinch.

  ‘No, but I see the way he looks at you.’

  ‘Please, spare me any more of your romantic notions.’ Cecelia marched to the desk and pulled the reticule from her wrist. ‘Randall is charming and polite and I can see how you’ve been fooled into thinking he cares, but believe me, Randall is not a man guided by emotion, especially not love.’

  ‘If so, then why did he drive you home today? Why did he give you the pendant?’

  ‘Because he only wants another wealthy widow to dally with.’ She slammed the reticule down on the blotter. ‘You’ve heard the rumours and the way people talk about him. You know what he did to Lord Westbrook. Do you truly believe he’d risk such a carefully cultivated reputation for us?’

  ‘I think you’re being unfair.’

  ‘Because you don’t know Randall the way I do.’

  Theresa stuck out her chin like a stubborn child. ‘Maybe I don’t, but I know a gentleman doesn’t buy a woman jewellery unless he’s truly interested in her.’

  Cecelia crossed her arms, matching Theresa’s determination. ‘What about all of General LaFette’s trinkets?’

  ‘His gifts were never as valuable or as pretty as Lord Falconbridge’s and he never looked at you the way Lord Falconbridge did just now.’