Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Bogdanovich.”
    “After you drank it, what happened?” he pressed.
    Oh, no. “I could barely stay awake. She insisted we retire instead of travelling on and assisted me into a room that was blurring. So I…” She was so stupid. “I don’t remember anything after that.” She knew that kvass didn’t taste right. It had been overly bitter. And she drank the whole thing!
    He puffed out a breath. “Drugging tourists during a meal is commonplace in Russia. Once a tourist is unconscious, swindlers take everything, put them on a coach and pay a driver to deposit them hours away so no one knows about it.”
    This couldn’t be happening. “But the woman came highly recommended to me.”
    “By who?”
    “A friend of mine.”
    “Consider them your friend no more. How much money did you travel with? Did this woman know about it?”
    She wanted to cry. “Yes. She knew I had brought three thousand.”
    “ Three thousand ?” he echoed, straightening. “You should never travel with that sort of money. Never.” He muttered something in Russian and then said, “She was probably working with others. Possibly her family. Which would explain the two men who delivered you to the coach. She could not have done it all on her own.”
    She paused. “You certainly know quite a lot about these things.”
    He was quiet for a moment. “I have seen a lot. More than a man should.”
    She refrained from hitting her head against the window of the carriage beside her. “What am I going to do? I have no money, no clothes and no idea where I’m even at!”
    “Where are you going? What is your final destination?”
    She was officially dependant on a complete stranger. “Saint Petersburg.” She turned toward him, her dark skirts bundling against the seat between them. “How many days away am I? Do you know? Am I on the right coach?”
    He intently searched her face.
    Cecilia stared back. “Please don’t tell me I’m on a coach to Siberia.”
    He rumbled out a laugh. “No.” He rubbed his chin. “If you get off at the next stop, you will only be seven hours away from Saint Petersburg. Coincidentally, I am heading there myself to catch a boat on the Baltic.” He dropped his hand onto his knee. “Allow me to pay for your connecting coach into Saint Petersburg.”
    Astounded by his generosity, she leaned in. “I wouldn’t be imposing?”
    His gaze held hers. “No. Not at all.”
    Why was he staring? “Thank you.”
    His voice grew husky. “Of course.”
    She tried not to let the raw huskiness of that voice trace her spine. Though she wanted to be at ease knowing she was fortunate enough to have transportation to Saint Petersburg, she now had a much bigger problem. How was she going to find her son without an address or a street name? “Sir?”
“Yes?”
    “How well do you know Saint Petersburg?”
    His gaze remained riveted to her face. “I was born and raised there prior to moving to Moscow a few years ago. Why?”
    A breath escaped her. He knew English and Russian and knew the city of Saint Petersburg. He was a Godsend. “Forgive me for even asking, but would you consider assisting me locate my son once we get into Saint Petersburg? I know nothing about the city or the language and have no idea how I am to find him.”
    He sat straighter. “Where in Saint Petersburg are you going? What street is he on?”
    She bit her lip hard. Her son’s letter, which had been in her reticule, bore the address, which sadly, she couldn’t remember. She had only glanced at it only once or twice. The street name was…Ga…something. Or was it Gor…something? Either way, it was hardly helpful. “My son bought a home. I don’t remember the street name or the address, as it was quite recent, but he wrote in his last letter that it overlooked the Neva River on the east side. Do you know where the river is? Maybe we can find him that way.”
    He lowered his chin. “Do you know how big the Neva is? ’Tis over fifty miles long. We would