The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

Ruefully, she tucked a stray tendril of her own hair behind her ear, almost laughing aloud at the realization that, in this one way, little had changed since their childhood. She was still the hoyden, Breanna the lady.

And while Breanna might admire her for her forthrightness, Anastasia was in perpetual awe of Breanna's natural grace and composure.

Still, Anastasia knew her cousin better than anyone. And, composed or not, Breanna looked very strained at the moment, almost as if she were silently willing the minuet to end.

Or was that only wishful thinking on her own part?

Stop it, Anastasia admonished herself. Whatever you think happened last week in the yellow salon was all in your mind. Lord Sheldrake is the overseer of your inheritance—and the main obstacle in your path. He's fervent in his beliefs, which explains the intensity you felt during those unexpected final moments of your meeting. Stop reading anything more into it.

As if on cue, Damen Lockewood raised his head, his gaze spanning the ballroom and finding hers.

Their eyes met—and held.

Feeling that same warmth shimmer through her, Anastasia jerked her gaze away. This reaction was unacceptable, for many reasons. Least of all was the role the marquess had been assigned to play in her life. Most of all was the role he'd been assigned by Uncle George to play in Breanna's.

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 a

nd 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."