The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

Anastasia frowned. "I thought you said you'd concluded Papa's will reading."

"I have." The solicitor folded up the will and tucked it away, extracting a second document from inside his desk. "But now that you've returned to England, I have another legal matter to conclude." He paused, amending his own choice of words. "Actually, your return to England made this far easier for me. Had you opted to remain in Philadelphia, I would have had to summon you anyway. The terms must be carried out by you and Breanna prior to your respective twenty-first birthdays—which will occur in October and December of this year."

"Is this matter you're referring to the reason I was summoned to this meeting as well, Mr. Fenshaw?" Breanna asked.

"Yes, Breanna. It is."

"Henry left a document other than his will?" George demanded.

"No, my lord. Your father did."

George blinked, although neither Breanna nor Anastasia were stunned by Mr. Fenshaw's announcement. Given the wording of his written message, they'd expected something of this sort.

Fenshaw smoothed out the page, looking from one cousin to the other. "The late viscount's provisions are simple. Prior to his death, he set aside a sizable trust fund for each of you, to be inherited upon your respective twenty-first birthdays."

"How large a trust fund?" George asked.

"Fifty thousand pounds apiece."

"Good Lord." George sucked in his breath. "I was never told about this fund."

"Nor was your brother," Mr. Fenshaw advised him. "No one knew of the trust funds' existence but your father and myself. And, of course, Lord Sheldrake, whose bank holds the funds." His gaze flickered in Damen's direction, then leveled on Anastasia and Breanna. "There is a condition to your receiving this money. Many years ago, your grandfather gifted each of you with a coin. Do you recall that fact?"

"Yes, Mr. Fenshaw," Anastasia replied, answering for them both. "We do."

"And did you bring those coins with you today, as instructed?"

"No, Mr. Fenshaw, we did not."

The solicitor looked intrigued. "And why not?"

"Because when Grandfather gave us the coins, he told us to put them in a safe place—permanently. Which is what we've done."

"I see." Mr. Fenshaw turned a quill over in his hands. "That presents a problem."

"What coins?" George bit out. "What problem? What is this all about?"

"In a minute, my lord," Mr. Fenshaw assured him. He continued addressing the girls. "You say you don't have the coins with you. Let me explain why you need to produce them. At the time your grandfather gifted them to you, did he not tell you the coins had great significance, if not great value?"

"He did."

"You're about to discover what he meant. In order to collect your inheritances, you must both turn your coins over to me. At that time, I will sign the money over to you, due and payable on your twenty-first birthdays."

Neither girl moved.

"Breanna, what coin is Mr. Fenshaw referring to?" George demanded, turning to face his daughter. "You've never spoken a word to me of a coin."

Breanna paled but didn't falter. "Grandfather asked that we keep it between us. No one was to know about the coins but him, Stacie, and me."

Her father drew a harsh breath, looking as if he wanted to lash out at her for deceiving him, yet unwilling to do so given the advantageous outcome of her silence. "An odd arrangement," he said at last, his syllables clipped. "However, there's no point in berating you for something you did as a child. We'll simply go home, get the coin, and you can give it to Mr. Fenshaw, thus satisfying your grandfather's peculiar terms."

"I can't do that, Father."

George started. "What did you say?"

"We can't turn over the coins, Uncle George," Anastasia confirmed. "Not even for an inheritance, no matter how vast. Grandfather's instructions were for us to keep the coins safe, and to never, under any circumstances, give them to anyone else." An uncomfortable pause. "Not even to our fathers."

Her Uncle George swore softly under his breath.