The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

"I doubt you need to ask. But I'll answer anyway. I'm going to Damen."

"So I assumed." Breanna peered over her cousin's shoulder, read her words. "Ah, you're telling Father that you're traveling to Philadelphia at Damen's request. That sounds believable. After all, half that investment money is his."

"Exactly." Anastasia paused, frowning. "I'll have to reach Damen right away, not only so he can make provisions to hide me, but so he'll know what I've told Uncle George and can play along."

"So you're going straight to the bank."

A hard shake of the head. "That would be too easy for Uncle George to trace, in the event he decides to verify my story. He could simply ask his driver, who'd say he drove me to the House of Lockewood. And why would I be going there if I'm leaving the country? No, I'll send Damen a note, asking him to meet me at the docks. I'll have Uncle George's driver deliver me there. That way, everything will appear legitimate."

"Fine. I'll find a way to get the message to Damen."

"Oh, no you won't. Getting you involved is the last thing we need. Wells will take care of it for me, quickly and discreetly. I'll pen the note to Damen as soon as I'm finished writing the one to your father. I'll give both notes to Wells as I leave the manor, ask him to dispatch Damen's right away, then wait a bit before handing Uncle George his. Damen will be at the docks before I know it."

"Not soon enough." Breanna frowned. "Those docks aren't safe."

"It's broad daylight. The warehouses will be swarming with activity."

"They'll also be swarming with lowlifes like that Meade person," Breanna countered. "Face it, Stacie—you're female, you're pretty, and you're alone." She leaned forward, snatching up another sheet of paper and motioning for Anastasia to make room for her at the desk. "You finish the note to my father. I'll write the message to Damen. Then, I'll give it to Wells while you pack the rest of your things. Wells will make sure the letter is on its way to London before you climb into that carriage. With any luck, Damen will be waiting for you when you get to the docks."

Reluctantly, Anastasia nodded. "You're right." She hesitated a minute, chewing her lip as she studied her cousin, contemplated Breanna's status in all this. "You did fetch that pistol from the library, didn't you?"

Breanna nodded, pivoting slowly to meet her cousin's gaze. "It's in my nightstand."

"Good. Keep it close by at all times."

"Stacie…"

Anastasia waved away whatever protest Breanna was about to make. "Your father is unstable. He must be, to actually sell women for profit. We don't know how he'll react to my bolting like this. He might panic at the thought of losing out on his profit, or explode at the realization that I've eluded his sick attempt at revenge. In either case, he'll probably vent his emotion at you or, if he decides to try to stop me from leaving, he might try forcing you to tell him details of my departure—details you're going to claim not to know. I'm not sure what tactic he'll take. But, servants or not, you must keep up your guard. Promise me."

"All right. I promise." Breanna swallowed. "How will I contact you? How will I know you're all right? When will I see you?"

Anastasia squeezed her hand. "Damen is courting you, remember? He'll be sure to take you for many carriage rides. Well, I'll be the destination of those rides." Her jaw set. "It will be a matter of days, Breanna, not weeks. With what we overheard in that study, I have more than enough incriminating information to pass along to Damen. He'll use it to dig up whatever evidence we need." A frustrated sigh. "If we only had that evidence now, I'd go straight to the authorities, rather than dropping out of sight. But all we have is a conversation we'd attest to having heard. Your father would, of course, deny everything."

Pondering her own words, Anastasia gave an ironic laugh. "Not only would he deny everything, he'd probably arrange for his friend Bates to hear our charges. And we both know how that would turn out. Uncle George would walk out of that courtroom a free man, and you and I would bear the brunt of his rage. No, when we confront your father, I want to be sure we have all the evidence we need to send him to Newgate for a long, long time."

"I agree." B

reanna dipped her quill into the inkwell, gesturing for Anastasia to do the same. "And speaking of time, let's not waste it. You have to leave Medford Manor—before it's too late."

* * *

Damen's carriage sped to a stop.

Leaping out, he stalked down to the wharf, peering between the masts of ships and rows of warehouses, pushing his way through the crowds of workers and searching for Anastasia.

Where the hell was she?

What was going on?

Why did she have to meet him here, now, without a single word of explanation?

And why had the note he received been written by Breanna rather than by Anastasia herself? What in the name of heaven had happened?

"Damen."

As if in answer to his fears, Anastasia called out to him, her voice shaky, barely audible above the surrounding din.

But Damen heard it.