Andrea Kane (10 page)

Anastasia sucked in her breath. She had to stop staring. The last thing she needed was for Lord Sheldrake to think she was assessing his and Breanna’s suitability. She had enough to handle, just trying to line up her backers—and holding Lord Sheldrake to his vow not to undermine her attempts to do so. Provoking him would hardly serve her best interests. Besides, his relationship—or lack thereof—with Breanna was their concern, not hers.

With staunch determination, Anastasia shifted her attention to locating Lord Dutton, who’d disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Not that his girth would allow him to remain unnoticeable for long, she reminded herself with a grin. On impulse, she turned toward the refreshment table, her lips curving as she saw that her instincts had been correct. The rotund fellow was in the process of gobbling down a large pastry, simultaneously inching away from his wife and her gossiping circle of friends.

Perhaps it was time to take matters into her own hands…

“It would be far easier if I supplied the introduction.”

The sound of Lord Sheldrake’s amused baritone from directly behind her made Anastasia start.

“Pardon me?” She whipped about to face him, spotting Breanna by his side and wondering when the two of them had finished their dance and made their way over.

“Lord Dutton,” Sheldrake supplied, tipping his head in that direction. “I assume you’re about to ask him for money. If you stroll up to him alone, I doubt he’ll make the connection between a beautiful woman and a business deal. Shall I pave the way, or would you prefer to ask your uncle to do the honors?”

Anastasia sucked in her breath. “Tell me, my lord, how do you read minds and execute a minuet at the same time, without missing a step? Or is that similar to conducting two business meetings simultaneously?”

The marquess’s teeth gleamed. “I’m flattered you were watching. As for my mind-reading abilities, they’re uncanny—whether or not I’m otherwise occupied. However, in your case, they’re hardly necessary. You’re eyeing Dutton like a wolf circling a sheep. And given that the gentleman in question is married, over fifty and wider than he is tall, I ruled out any romantic interest on your part.”

An impish grin curved Anastasia’s lips. “Perhaps I prefer fat, married men. Have you considered that?”

All humor vanished from Lord Sheldrake’s eyes. “No,” he replied quietly. “I haven’t. That would be too great a waste to consider.”

Anastasia’s breath lodged in her throat, the marquess’s words burning through her like a kindled flame. She searched his face, his expression no longer teasing but probing, intense.

Tearing her gaze away was even more difficult this time.

“I—I’d appreciate the introduction,” she managed, struggling to regain her composure. “Plus any others you’d care to provide. I had asked Breanna to present me, but I’d be a fool not to realize that they’d take me far more seriously if the introductions came from you.”

“Consider it done.” Lord Sheldrake took her arm, arching a questioning brow at Breanna. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

Breanna shook her head. “As I told you on the dance floor, I’d be thrilled to be relieved of the awkward duty. Approaching a dozen overbearing men is hardly my idea of an enjoyable evening.” She gestured gratefully at a cluster of young women who were chattering in the far corner of the room. “Besides, Margaret Warner has been trying to catch my eye for the past hour. She and her friends want to hear all about my long-lost cousin who’s finally returned from America.”

Anastasia wrinkled up her nose. “Why would they want to know about me?”

Breanna’s sigh was the essence of exasperation. “Because while you’re preoccupied with business, most women are not. My guess is that Lady Margaret and her chums want to assess their competition. You’re far too pretty to suit the unmarried ones.” A flash of recall flickered in her eyes and, without thinking, she muttered, “Don’t forget, I did experience one London Season. And I learned that although the men might be lechers, the women are lethal.”

Laughter rumbled in Lord Sheldrake’s chest. “I’ll refrain from comment.”

“Oh—” Breanna flushed, looking startled by her own uncharacteristic frankness. “I suppose that was incredibly rude.”

“No, it was merely accurate.” Anastasia grinned. “I encountered similar types of women in Philadelphia. In my case, I avoided them. Otherwise, I shudder to think what trouble my quick tongue would have gotten me into. But with your inherent gift of tact, you won’t run that risk. Lethal or not, those girls will be charmed by you. Everyone is.”

That comment made Breanna smile—a fleeting smile that tugged at her lips, then vanished—almost as if she’d enjoyed a private joke she alone was privy to. “If you say so.” She gathered up her skirts. “Anyway, if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll head over to the ladies’ corner. It will be entertaining to hear the latest gossip.” She paused, squeezing Anastasia’s arm. “Good luck finding investors, Stacie. My fingers are crossed.”

Anastasia watched her cousin weave her way across the room. “Sometimes I forget how much Breanna is deprived of,” she murmured to herself. “So much so that a chat with a group of women is like an extraordinary gift. How in God’s name can Uncle George …” She broke off, realizing she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

“I don’t know,” Lord Sheldrake surprised her by answering. “But it can’t stay that way. Nor will it, now that you’re home. You’re very good for Breanna. I’ve never heard her speak her mind before. It’s a healthy sign.”

Before Anastasia could respond or even contemplate the marquess’s words, he dropped the subject. Turning on his heel, he tightened his grasp on her arm and began drawing her toward the refreshment table. “Come. It’s time to accost Lord Dutton.”

Anastasia complied, although Lord Sheldrake’s subtle taunt was not lost on her. In response, she tossed him a saucy look. “I’m not going to accost him,” she retorted. “I’m going to offer him the chance of a lifetime.”

U
NFORTUNATELY, LORD DUTTON DIDN’T
seem to share Anastasia’s opinion. Oh, he gleefully acknowledged Lord Sheldrake’s introduction, swaggered his fat little body when he heard she wanted to speak with him alone, then gobbled her up with his eyes when the marquess walked away. But when he heard the nature of her business—or rather, that all she wanted to discuss was business—his entire demeanor changed. He looked shocked, then offended, and finally scornful, not even waiting to hear the details before he brought the conversation to a rapid close and made his way back to the desserts.

She received similar responses from the other eleven businessmen she approached—from Edgar Lyman, the shipbuilder, to Arthur Landow, the wealthy manufacturer, to Viscount Crompton, a retired military general who invested his inherited fortune just for diversion, even to William Bates, a London magistrate who received huge stipends for keeping dangerous criminals off the streets and who reputedly had a knack for making large amounts of money through various business ventures—to every other prospective investor on her list.

No one was interested in conducting business with a woman, much less investing their funds in an American bank.

An hour later, Anastasia was more discouraged than she could bear.

Easing her way through the throng of intoxicated guests, she slipped out onto the balcony, hoping to have a few minutes to herself. She needed to collect her thoughts before her uncle summoned her for the inevitable formal introduction to the room at large—an introduction that would be happening at any moment, given that almost all the guests had now arrived.

The night sky was clear, and filled with stars. Anastasia leaned against the railing, gazing up at the bright specks of light and remembering when she and Breanna used to count them, trying to get closer to the heavens by climbing that favorite oak of theirs.

Somehow Anastasia never felt she’d climbed high enough.

But Grandfather always believed she would someday, that both she and Breanna would reach their own symbolic peak.

With a wistful smile, Anastasia gazed off to the right, fond memories of her grandfather and her childhood surging to the forefront of her mind.

It was too dark to make out the outlines of specific buildings, but she knew the stables were in the direction she was facing. She remembered the dawn when she and Grandfather had walked there to see a new foal being born. Life, Grandfather had explained to her, was the most precious gift God offered. And the ties born of that life were equally precious. Even animals knew that, he’d explained. Even they possessed that unique, priceless instinct to love those who belonged to them.

He’d shown her the natural affinity between mare and foal, a bond that was only a fraction of what human beings felt toward their young.

Family. That was even more important than personal accomplishments—not only to Grandfather, but to her. But what if one was integrally tied to the other? What if accomplishing a feat was the first step in carrying on a lineage, perhaps even in restoring ties that should never have been broken?

Anastasia massaged her temples, contemplating not only her immediate goals—to pay tribute to her father and unite and expand Colby and Sons—but the enormous sum of money Grandfather had left her and Breanna. How would they put that money to work in order to do their grandfather justice, to reap the rewards he was determined that they reap, not only for themselves, but for their children, their future?

If tonight was any indication, then Anastasia feared Grandfather’s hopes and dreams would fall by the wayside.

Dear God, what if she let him down?

“Here you are.”

Damen Lockewood strolled out onto the balcony, coming up to stand beside her. He leaned his elbow on the railing and angled himself to face her. “You’re discouraged. After twelve fruitless efforts, I can’t blame you.”

Anastasia continued to stare off into space, hovering somewhere between dejection and nostalgia. “Have you come out here to gloat?”

“Hardly.” He fell silent for a moment, studying her profile intently as he chose his next words. “Tell me something, my lady. Is your original offer still open—the one regarding a potential partnership between us?”

Whatever Anastasia had been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

She whirled about, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“I asked if your original offer still stands. Because if it does, if you’re still interested in having me co-finance this venture of yours, I’d like to accept.”

Pensively, she studied the marquess’s face, puzzled and curious all at once. What had prompted this total turnaround? she wondered. Certainly not some absurd sense of gallantry. Not with a man like Damen Lockewood, who regarded business above all else.

Except perhaps loyalty. Was that it? Did the marquess feel a sense of commitment to her father, a responsibility not to let Henry’s daughter falter?

If that was the case, she wanted no part of his charity.

“Why?” she demanded, giving voice to her thoughts. “Why would you change your mind so suddenly and completely? Out of duty? Pity?”

One dark brow shot up. “Neither. To begin with, I don’t pity you. Doing business means experiencing disappointment, sometimes even coping with failure. What’s more, even if I did feel sorry for what you’re going through, I don’t allow emotions to dictate my business decisions. And that includes loyalty to fine men like your father. Henry would laugh in my face if he heard me suggest investing in something I didn’t believe in just out of respect for him. So, no, put those foolish notions out of your mind. I’m reversing my decision because it’s prudent to do so.”

Sheldrake lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “As it turns out, I spent the better part of last week researching your ideas. I made some inquiries, pored over long columns of numbers. And I discovered that you were right. I didn’t give your proposal a fair chance. Well, now I’m ready to. If you’re still interested.”

Anastasia eyed him skeptically. “Why didn’t you mention this change of heart before an hour ago when I went on my futile crusade to solicit backers?”

“Because I wanted you to explore all your options before I made my offer. After all, there was every chance you’d reject it at this point, given my initial response. Especially if you’d found someone else to finance your venture.”

“Which I didn’t.” Anastasia frowned, contemplating another, equally important, question. “Let me ask you this: what if I say no? Will that preclude me from using my own funds to finance the bank? Will I have to wait until October, when you’re no longer managing my inheritance, to get started?”

Lord Sheldrake’s jaw tightened fractionally. “What you’re effectively asking is whether or not I’d resort to blackmail. The answer is no. I don’t do business that way. You’ll have access to your funds immediately, whether or not we form a partnership. I’ll sign the necessary documents at my bank on the morning after this party ends. No strings attached.”

“I see.” Anastasia wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Forgive me if I insulted you. But I had to be sure.”

“No insult taken—this time. However, I don’t expect my integrity to be questioned again.”

“Fair enough.” The first ray of hope she’d experienced all evening dawned inside her. “You really believe in my bank?”

“Our
bank,” Sheldrake corrected with a cocky grin. “At least if you accept my offer. And, yes, I do.”

With visible relief and excitement, Anastasia extended her hand. “Then consider us partners.”

“Splendid.” Solemnly, he shook her hand, his fingers lingering far longer than necessary. “Tell me, now that we’re partners, do you think we might dispense with the formalities?”

Anastasia swallowed, her pulse picking up speed. “Which formalities in particular, my lord?”

“The ones you just employed.” His gaze held hers. “I believe it’s fitting for partners to call each other by their given names.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Good.” Abruptly, his grip tightened, refusing to let go, and his stare delved deep inside of her. “When I first walked out here, you weren’t only thinking about the bank, were you? There was far more on your mind.”