Andrea Kane (4 page)

Obviously, he truly was the same man her father had disliked, had turned away from all those years ago.

“Stacie? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I presume you’ve met the marquess,” Anastasia replied. “Because I haven’t. He was still at Oxford when we sailed for Philadelphia.”

“Yes, I’ve met him. Many times, right here at Medford Manor. He advises Father on all his important business matters.”

“And?”

“And … what?”

“What do you think of him?”

Breanna sighed. “He’s very handsome, very charming, and—as you would expect—very intelligent.”

“But…?”

“But nothing. He kisses my hand when he arrives and again when he leaves. The rest of the time he spends talking with Father, except on those embarrassing occasions when Father coerces him into having dinner with us. On those nights, he sits across the table from me— doubtless feeling as uncomfortable as I—makes polite conversation, and says good night.” A tiny shrug. “He’s very gracious, considering how obvious Father’s intentions are. Still, gracious and enamored are a far cry from each other. And the ability to exchange pleasantries is hardly a basis for a marriage. Although Father insists otherwise.”

“Uncle George would insist the sky was green if that would convince you and Lord Sheldrake to marry,” Anastasia stated bluntly. “What I want to know is what
you
think. You’ve spoken of the marquess’s reaction to you. What about your reaction to him? Could you have feelings for this man?”

“Feelings.” Breanna repeated the word as if it tasted foreign on her tongue. “I’m not sure how to answer that. Lord Sheldrake is a fine man. I like and admire him. Are those feelings?”

“No.”

Breanna started at her cousin’s adamant reply, the resolute lift of her chin, and burst out laughing. “Oh, Stacie, I’ve missed your audacity more than you can know. I’m so glad you’re home.” She dismissed the subject of Damen Lockewood with a wave of her hand. “Enough about me. Let’s discuss you. You must have met dozens of gentlemen in Philadelphia.”

Anastasia frowned, but took her cousin’s cue, letting the subject drop—for now. “I did. And they were all pleasant enough. But I suppose I never thought of them as anything other than acquaintances passing through my life. Part of me always knew I’d be returning to England. Papa knew that, too, which is why he never pressed me toward a commitment. Except once in a while when he’d remember that I was no longer eighteen. Then he’d push me, ever so gently, toward a particular gentleman.” A pointed look. “Only I’d push back. I won’t even consider marriage unless I fall in love. Neither should you.”

A tentative knock on the bedchamber door interrupted their conversation.

“Yes?” Breanna called.

A young, uniformed girl poked her head in and glanced uneasily about as if she were afraid of intruding. “Pardon me …” Spying Breanna—and then Anastasia—her eyes widened in amazement. “My goodness.”

Swiftly, Breanna rose and beckoned her in. “You’re not losing your mind, Lizzy. Come in and meet my cousin. Anastasia—this is Lizzy. She assists Mrs. Charles at just about everything.”

“Hello, Lizzy,” Anastasia greeted her.

The young girl continued to stare. “I can’t believe it. You’re the same. I mean, you look the same. I mean …” Blushing, she dropped a curtsy. “I’m sorry. Pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“As it is to meet you.”

“Did you need something, Lizzy?” Breanna pressed gently, as the maid continued to shake her head in wonder.

“Oh, yes.” Lizzy stuck her hand in her apron pocket, fumbling until she’d extracted an envelope. “This just arrived for Lady Anastasia. Mrs. Charles asked me to bring it right up.”

“Thank you.” Anastasia stepped forward and took the letter with a smile. “And thank Mrs. Charles. I can’t wait to see her again.”

Nodding, Lizzy backed away until she butted up against the door. Reluctantly, she turned and slipped out.

“I think we’re going to be getting a lot of that sort of reaction,” Anastasia commented in amusement. She tore open the envelope.

“I suspect you’re right.” Breanna watched Anastasia read her message. “What is it?”

“A letter from Mr. Fenshaw. He’s arranged the reading of Father’s will for tomorrow. Uncle George and I are expected at his office at one o’clock.” Anastasia paused, her brows knitting together in puzzlement. “He asks that you be there as well. Not for the will reading, but for another matter. A matter of great importance to both you and me. He’s instructing us to bring the confidential gifts Grandfather gave us when we were six.”

Her chin shot up, and her gaze met Breanna’s. “The coins.”

M
R. FENSHAW’S OFFICE WAS
in an unassuming brick building on Chancery Lane in London. George Colby’s carriage arrived there just before one—not a surprise, given that the viscount was never late—at which time he hurried Anastasia and Breanna out of the carriage and up the steps.

The slight bang that accompanied the closing of the door alerted the solicitor to their arrival, for he walked out of his inner office, slipping his spectacles onto his nose as he came forward to greet them.

“Good day, George, Breanna.” He blinked as his pale gaze shifted to Anastasia. “Or is this Breanna?”

Anastasia shook her head. “No, Mr. Fenshaw. You were right the first time.”

He blinked again. “Anastasia, goodness. The resemblance is astonishing.” He bowed ever so slightly, giving her a gentle smile. “I don’t suppose you remember me. But I remember you—an active little girl with a mind of her own. I’m terribly sorry about your parents. They were fine people, both of them.”

“Yes, they were.” A flash of memory flitted through Anastasia’s mind; a gray-haired gentleman with red cheeks, thick spectacles, and a kind smile offering her a peppermint stick. “Actually, I do remember you. You had the most delicious peppermint sticks in London.”

Fenshaw chuckled. “You did so enjoy that candy.” He inclined his head, his expression compassionate. “How are you, my dear? Under the circumstances, that is.”

“Not as devastated as I was a few months ago. I’m very fortunate to have Uncle George and Breanna. Returning to them and to Medford Manor has made my loss a little more bearable.”

“I’m glad.”

“I realize we’re early, Fenshaw,” George interrupted. “But if it’s all right with you, we’ll proceed. I have another business matter to see to this afternoon and I want to leave for Kent before dusk.”

“As you wish.” Fenshaw gestured them into his inner office. “Please, come in. Now that everyone is here, we can begin at once.”

“Everyone?” George shot him a perplexed look as he crossed the threshold behind his daughter and niece. “Who else …?” He broke off, staring in surprise at the tall, broad-shouldered man who rose to his feet as they entered. “Sheldrake. I don’t understand.”

Sheldrake?
Now
that
brought Anastasia’s head around quickly.

“Nor do I,” the marquess was replying, shrugging his dark head. He extended his hand to shake George’s. “All I know is that Fenshaw asked me to attend. So here I am.” He glanced past George, then bowed politely at Breanna—whom he clearly had no difficulty recognizing, despite the presence of Anastasia by her side. “Breanna, how are you?”

“I’m well, my lord.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Damen Lockewood’s gaze flickered to Anastasia, and a slight smile curved his lips. “Ah, it seems I don’t need an introduction.”

“Nor do I,” she returned. “Although in your case, it’s your name I recognize, rather than your appearance.” Eager to remedy that fact, Anastasia stepped forward, curtsying quickly so she could rise and inspect this man she’d heard so much about.

He was tall—over six feet—and powerfully built, with steel-gray eyes, a square jaw, and hard, patrician features. His raven-black hair was cut short at the nape, yet a few strands of it swept over his broad forehead—perhaps the only aspect of him that was even remotely disheveled. His blue tailcoat, silk waistcoat, and white shirt and trousers were of the latest style, worn with the casual elegance of a man who was accustomed to such attire. He carried himself with an air of self-assurance—not arrogance, exactly, but more an awareness that he knew his own capabilities and was not afraid to acknowledge them.

There was something infinitely intriguing about the Marquess of Sheldrake.

“I’m pleased to meet you, my lord,” Anastasia continued, watching a corner of Damen Lockewood’s mouth lift at her flagrant scrutiny. “My father spoke very highly of you. So did my grandfather. Which leads me to believe that your reputation as a shrewd banker and clever investment adviser is more than just a rumor.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “I’m relieved to hear that. My clients will be as well.” He brought Anastasia’s fingers to his lips. “Welcome home, my lady.” His amusement vanished. “With regard to your father and grandfather, I had the utmost respect for them both. They were fine men and, as I remember, your mother was a lovely, gracious lady. Please accept my condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you,” she replied softly.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Sheldrake,” George spoke up. “But I still don’t understand why you’re here.” He arched a questioning brow at Fenshaw.

“All of you, have a seat,” Fenshaw responded, retreating behind his desk and extracting a folded document from his drawer. “I believe the next few minutes should answer all your questions.”

Everyone complied, and Anastasia’s interest in Damen Lockewood was forgotten as the finality of what was about to occur sank in. She steeled herself for yet another facet of this painful good-bye with her father, seating herself between Breanna and Lord Sheldrake, and clutching Breanna’s hand as Mr. Fenshaw commenced the will reading.

“ ‘I, Henry Colby, being of sound mind, do hereby give, devise, and bequeath …’ ”

The words droned on, stating her father’s last wishes, the provisions he’d made for his sizable assets. Initially, there were no surprises. Henry had left everything he possessed—including his funds in both England and America, together with his share in Colby and Sons—to his beloved Anne. And, in the event that his wife predeceased him, to his daughter Anastasia, and to her children thereafter.

With regard to Anastasia’s proper guardianship: Should she choose to remain in Philadelphia upon his and Anne’s death, and should she, at that time, be unmarried and under the age of twenty-one, appropriate instructions had been left with Frederick Carter, his American solicitor, and would be read and carried out by the same. Should she, however, choose to return to England as he believed she would, his brother George would assume the role of her guardian, to properly reintroduce her to English society and to do his best to ensure her future happiness and well-being. To that end, and for that sole purpose alone, the sum of ten thousand pounds had been deposited at the House of Lockewood, from which George could withdraw whatever amounts were necessary to provide for Anastasia’s coming-out.

At that point, Mr. Fenshaw paused and looked up, something about the intensity of his expression, the gravity of his stare as he glanced from one of them to the other, making them all aware that something unexpected was about to occur.

“Continue, Fenshaw,” George instructed, waving his hand impatiently so as to hear the remainder of his brother’s provisions.

Fenshaw cleared his throat. “ ‘With regard to the above guardianship, I have several stipulations to make. First, Anastasia shall not be forced to abide any circumstances she finds intolerable; specifically, unduly harsh or unfeeling treatment, or excessive discipline that might result in squelching her spirit. Second, she shall never be forced to marry against her will, for while she needs a guardian’s hand to guide her through the portals of society, she must be allowed to wed as her heart dictates.

“ ‘If either of these stipulations is violated, if Anastasia should find herself unhappy or ill-treated in any manner, she will advise Mr. Fenshaw of such, at which point alternate provisions will be made for her guardianship. Should that occur, the funds set aside for Anastasia’s coming-out will be transferred to her newly appointed guardian and will no longer be available to my brother, George.

“ ‘Second, and more painful, is the matter of managing my daughter’s newly acquired inheritance. It is no secret that my brother, George, and I do not agree about the importance of money, nor about the fervor through which it is earned or hoarded. Therefore, and excepting the sum set aside for Anastasia’s coming-out, I specify that George’s guidance and control over my daughter’s life be limited only to non-financial matters. Specifically, in the event Anne and I should both die either before Anastasia is well and truly wed, or before her twenty-first birthday, I hereby appoint an administrator to oversee my daughter’s inheritance, including her interest in Colby and Sons, and to advise her in her capacity as beneficiary. The man I have chosen to serve as that administrator is Damen Lockewood.

“ ‘His lordship is a man of great honor and integrity, as well as one whose knowledge of my assets is surpassed only by his wisdom at investing them. He shall, therefore, be the sole overseer of Anastasia’s financial resources, until or unless she weds, at which point the responsibility shall be transferred to her husband, or in the event of her death without husband or issue prior to the age of twenty-one, at which point my funds shall be equally divided between my brother George and his daughter Breanna.’ ”

Halting, Mr. Fenshaw took an uncomfortable sip of water from the glass perched on his desk. “That, in essence, is that.”

Scarcely had the words been uttered when George rose to his feet. His movements were controlled, deliberate, but Anastasia could feel the anger emanating from him.

“Those stipulations are absurd, Fenshaw,” he stated, pressing his palms flat on the desk and leaning toward the solicitor. “Henry must not have been himself when he devised them.”

“I assure you, he was quite himself, my lord,” Fenshaw replied with the kind of quiet certainty that indicated he’d readied himself for just such a reaction. “The will was drawn eleven years ago, just before Henry took his family to America. We’ve been in constant touch ever since, and he remained adamant that the will stay as is. Mr. Carter, Henry’s American solicitor, was advised to adhere to the terms and conditions as well, the only difference being he was given different guardianship provisions to comply with in the event Anastasia chose to remain in Philadelphia. However, in either case, the marquess was designated to administer Henry’s estate for the next three months.”