The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

Breanna leaned closer, listening for the reply.

"Perfectly normal. And the only time he slipped off was to go to your house. I'm telling you, he thinks she's on her way to the

States. Whatever your niece is doing, she's doing it alone. Or with your daughter."

Clenching her teeth, Breanna stifled the anger that rose inside her.

She knew that other voice. And so did Damen. He knew it well.

* * *

"Dammit."

Damen uttered the word in a hiss of disbelief, his finger tracing the number of purchases listed on the page he was reading: jewelry, clothing—all bought over the past several months. In addition, there was a large quantity of food purchased and people hired—extra footmen, a cook, maids, a trio of musicians—for an extravagant party that had been held a fortnight ago at a private house. The house, whose address Damen had never before seen or heard mention of, was the property of the same man who'd paid for the party, a fact that was verified by the attached documents.

In short, John Cunnings was spending more than ten times what he was earning.

He was also conducting extra business with one of the House of Lockewood's couriers—business the courier believed to be sanctioned by the bank but which, upon closer investigation by Damen's contacts, showed no bank authorization whatsoever. And that business involved the delivery of messages to and from Medford Manor.

"Oh, Damen." Anastasia lifted her head, her stunned eyes meeting Damen's. "I can't believe this."

"Cunnings." Damen dragged both hands through his hair. "Of all people." A bitter laugh. "My senior officer, the man in charge of all my overseas investments. He's been with the House of Lockewood since before my father died, and he was by my side from the day I took over. I considered him to be my right-hand man, my friend. Yet it appears I don't even know him."

Anastasia interlaced her fingers with Damen's. "To some people, money means more than anything, including friendship and integrity," she reminded him softly. "I know that's foreign to you, as it is to me. But just look at Uncle George. Look at the extremes he's willing to go to for wealth and position."

"Yes. George." Damen's jaw set. "I wonder how deeply involved Cunnings is in his sick scheme. Is he just George's spy, his connection to the fastest courier? Or is he fully aware of the cargo George deals with? Worse, is he getting paid to help find you, ship you off on the next vessel to Rouge?"

"I don't know. But we'll have to…" Anastasia broke off, an odd expression crossing her face.

"What is it?" Damen asked.

"I'm not sure." She pressed her lips together, shifting restlessly on Damen's lap. "But I have the strangest feeling something's happening. Something that involves Breanna."

"You think she's in danger?"

Contemplating that possibility, Anastasia frowned, slowly shook her head. "No. At least I don't think so. I don't feel panicked. I feel … fidgety." Her gaze met Damen's. "Whatever it is, it won't be long now. My instincts tell me that this whole nightmare is beginning to unravel."

* * *

In the alehouse, Cunnings straddled his stool, lighting a cheroot and eyeing George warily. "Medford, isn't it time you told me what's going on? I know you want Sheldrake to marry your daughter. You've been doing everything you can to keep him and your niece apart. Well, now she's gone. So why aren't you celebrating?"

"Because I don't think she's gone." George's laugh was bitter. "And because 'gone' is no longer good enough."

"You're talking about your brother's inheritance."

"I'm talking about all of it: the inheritance, the company, Sheldrake. Everything. But I can't get my hands on those things as long as Anastasia's missing."

Cunnings brought the cheroot to his lips, inhaled. "I thought you had a plan."

"I did."

"But you need your niece for that plan."

"Exactly."

Cunnings took a swallow of ale. "She'd have to be dead for you to get any of what you want—including Sheldrake, at this point. I told you, he's head over heels in love with her."

George stared at his clenched hands. "If my plan had worked, the world would have believed she was dead."