Anton Kazakov loved one woman and thought to spend the rest of his life with her. Never would he have imagined that she would betray him, leave him for dead, and disappear completely. When all that she loved was lost, Natalie Pritchard returned to England to hide from her past and teach at The Wiggons School for Elegant Young Ladies. All has gone as planned, until one fateful night threatens the security she thought she’d found. Now, Anton has found his Natasha and ghosts from both of their pasts emerge. As the web of treachery, deceit and lies are unwoven, will they survive long enough to find the truth?
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Regency81 ratings/reviews on Amazon
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The hair stood up on the back of Natalie Pritchard’s neck. Wind howled and rocked the carriage. She pulled the collar of her pelisse tight. A feeling of foreboding had stayed with her since she and her three students left Lord Hopkins’ estate and she wished it would go away.
Miss Rosemary Fairview and Miss Eliza Weston sat across from her, snuggled against each other and sound asleep. Lady Sophia Trent, whose home had just served as the location for a short holiday, rested next to Natalie. The troublesome trio seemed to be without a care in the world and completely oblivious to the tension engulfing their teacher, though she had no real cause to be on edge.
It was the travel. Ever since her escape from Russia, she was never comfortable venturing too far from the school, especially if the journey required them to be anywhere near the ocean. It was silly, of course, since one could hear waves crash against the Cornish coast and view the expanse of water from her bedchamber window at Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies.
Natalie just wanted to arrive at the school without incident. They were already hours behind schedule, having been delayed this morning. And she hated to travel at night with the girls, but there was little choice. She certainly wasn’t going to stop at an inn. Not only did they travel without a man for protection, other than their driver, those three would attract too much attention and who knew what kind of mischief they would get up to in an inn.
She held her small pocket watch up to the lantern inside the carriage. In less than an hour they would arrive home. She rubbed her thumb against the smooth surface and resisted the urge to tap her foot before letting out a sigh.
“Halt!” The sound of a deep male voice rang out and the carriage slowed.
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French
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Isaiah Cole
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