The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

"Tell him, Stacie," Breanna said quietly. "He'll find out anyway."

Anastasia was still puzzling over her cousin's words as she approached Uncle George's study. What exactly had Breanna been urging her to disclose? That she'd opted to invest in an American bank? That she'd formed a partnership with Damen Lockewood?

Or was it more?

Sucking in her breath, Anastasia paused at the study door. She'd get her answer later. Whatever it was, it wouldn't affect her decision.

She raised her hand, rapped on the door.

"Who is it?"

her uncle barked.

"Anastasia."

A dozen purposeful strides sounded from within, after which the door was yanked open, and her uncle stood before her, his expression taut, his eyes burning with suppressed ire.

"You wanted to see me?" Anastasia asked, as nonprovokingly as she could.

"Indeed I did. Come in." He snapped out the words, gesturing for her to enter, then shutting the door firmly in her wake. He stared at the carpet for a moment—doubtless trying to curb his anger—then jerked up his head to meet her gaze. "You went to the House of Lockewood this morning while I was out. You traveled alone, unchaperoned, and you never mentioned to me that you had an appointment. Why is that?"

Anastasia forced what she hoped was an apologetic look on her face. "I'm not accustomed to taking a chaperon with me when I go out for a simple ride. I realize that's inappropriate now that I'm home, and I'll try to be mindful of that in the future. As for my appointment, I intended to tell you about it. But you'd already left. So I asked Breanna to do it for me."

"And what was your business at the bank?"

He's testing me, Anastasia thought. He's trying to catch me in the act of lying; or rather, of hiding the truth. Well, I'm about to surprise him.

"I had business with the marquess," she answered, looking her uncle squarely in the eye. "Regarding an investment I'm about to make. I want to use a portion of Papa's inheritance to invest in an American bank."

A flicker of surprise—one that was quickly replaced by a dark scowl. "An American bank," he repeated icily. "I heard that you approached a number of my guests about financing that ludicrous venture. But I assumed that, once you saw their aversion to the notion—and to the notion of even discussing business with a woman—you'd been wise enough to abandon the idea. Really, Anastasia, isn't it enough that you offended a roomful of prominent noblemen with your unprecedented audacity? Did you then have to force your ideas on Lord Sheldrake?"

"I didn't force my ideas on Lord Sheldrake," Anastasia replied, fighting to keep her temper in check. "I merely presented them."

"Call it what you will." Her uncle's steely tone told her he was unwilling to be deterred. "It still adds up to one thing: you've forgotten who and where you are. You're my niece. You're also no longer in America. Perhaps there it's common for women to take an active role in financial matters, but…"

"It's not," Anastasia interrupted. "I was bolder than American women, too."

George's mouth thinned into a grim line. "I don't find your cheekiness amusing. Need I remind you that this is my home? Therefore, you will abide by my rules. And one thing I will not permit is impertinence."

Silently, Anastasia counted to ten. "I didn't intend to be impertinent," she said at last. "Just honest."

"I don't require honesty, not unless I specifically demand it by way of a direct question. What I do require is obedience. Further, I won't tolerate having my guests insulted."

This was becoming more difficult by the minute.

"Insulting your guests was never my intention, Uncle George. My intention was to gain support for my bank." Anastasia made a wide sweep with her hands. "In any event, I was unsuccessful. Obviously, your guests feel as you do about women in business. So I won't try that tactic again." She literally forced out her next words. "I apologize for any embarrassment I caused you."

"Fine." A terse nod. "Then, let's return to today's meeting at the bank. What is it you hoped to accomplish?"

You already know, Uncle George, she reflected. What you don't know is that I'm aware of that. Very well. There's no harm in reiterating what Damen already told you.

"As that was a direct question, I have to assume you're expecting honesty," she responded, rubbing her skirts between her fingers in a seemingly nervous gesture. "Therefore, I'll provide it. The purpose for my meeting this morning was to sign a partnership agreement with Lord Sheldrake. He's joining me in this banking venture—not as a backer, but as an equal partner."

George started—his surprise prompted not by her news, she fully recognized, but by her unanticipated frankness. It was plain that this was one time he had expected her to lie, after which he'd planned to throw that lie in her face.

"I see." He scowled, clasping his hands behind his back and regrouping his thoughts. "I'm astounded that Lord Sheldrake would agree to involve himself in this pointless endeavor."

"He doesn't expect it to be pointless. He expects it to be profitable. As do I." Anastasia raised her chin a notch. "I realize you and I have differing opinions on this subject, Uncle George. However, with all due respect, you're not my financial guardian. Lord Sheldrake is. So while I'll abide by your rules of behavior, I won't seek your approval on how I invest my money. Fortunately, Lord Sheldrake and I are of the same mind with regard to that."