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"Ah. You'll just shout for the servants if need be, accuse me of thrashing you within an inch of your life." George walked across the room, stood before his desk, and leaned back against it. "Well, don't worry. I want only to talk."
Breanna's delicate brows rose. "About what—Stacie?"
"No, about Lord Sheldrake. He did visit you today, didn't he?"
"You must know he did. Just as you must know we went for a carriage ride."
"Indeed I do." George folded his arms across his chest, watching Breanna's face. "And tell me, how is your courtship progressing? I did advise you to encourage the marquess as much as possible, if you remember."
"I remember." Breanna never averted her gaze. "But, as I tried to tell you last time, no one can force feelings. Lord Sheldrake isn't in love with me. Nor, to be honest, am I in love with him. He's a fine man. But he's not destined to become my husband." A small smile played about her lips. "However, I do suspect he'll be a member of our family, nonetheless."
George's brows shot up. He'd expected to catch Breanna in a lie. Dammit, was she actually going to tell him the truth? "What does that mean?" he asked carefully.
"It means that Lord Sheldrake and Stacie are in love. I expect they'll be getting married. Whenever Stacie gets home, that is."
"I see." George's fingers dug into his sleeves, anger surging through him in wide, hammering waves. What kind of game was Breanna playing, admitting something she knew would enrage him? Was she testing him to see if he'd strike her?
He wouldn't. Furious or not, he'd keep this to a battle of words.
"Your cousin and Sheldrake," he said icily. "Interesting. Tell me, when did they become so enamored with each other?"
"Over the course of their business meetings, I suppose. I really don't know the details. Stacie hadn't time to divulge them to me before she left."
"If she and Sheldrake are so smitten with each other, why did she leave him and make this trip to the States?"
Breanna sighed. "We already discussed this, Father. I told you: Lord Sheldrake felt Stacie would be the right one to protect their interests in that new banking venture. Frankly, I think Stacie agreed. She's as leery as the marquess is about trusting others with their investments."
George leaned forward, scowling at Breanna. "Why didn't Sheldrake go himself?"
"I couldn't say. Probably because he's a busy man. He has dozens of clients who count on him."
"Yet he found time to see you."
"He came to see you, Father. But you weren't home."
"So he took you on a lengthy carriage ride?"
A grateful nod. "He's a very compassionate man. He guessed how much I miss Stacie, and tried to take my mind off it. Now that I've stopped trying to win his affections, I feel far more relaxed around him."
Good, George thought silently. Then you'll slip easily into the role of the Marchioness of Sheldrake once I've rid myself of your cousin. Aloud, he asked, "What did you and Sheldrake discuss during your ride?"
Breanna shrugged offhandedly. "Nothing special: Stacie. You."
George's insides clenched. "Me? How did I factor into this conversation?"
The slightest hesitation. "To be frank, Lord Sheldrake is relieved that Stacie will be of age when she returns to England. He didn't want to offend you by whisking her off to Gretna Green, but he is determined to wed her. Now you'll have several months to accustom yourself to the idea of their marriage and, upon Stacie's return, it will no longer be an issue. She'll be twenty-one and she and Lord Sheldrake can have the formal church wedding she wants so much, along with the presence and the blessings of those they love."
Over my dead body, George thought bitterly. It's you who will be Sheldrake's bride. He'll get over Anastasia, learn to live with the closest substitute. Just as I did. And I'll get my respectability back, along with Henry's inheritance, and all the benefits of Sheldrake's wealth and acclaim.
"Father?"
George blinked, refocused on Breanna. "What?"
"Was there anything else you wanted?"
Swiftly, he gathered his thoughts. "Sheldrake—did he say when Anastasia would be returning?" A pointed pause. "From the States, that is."
If Breanna felt flustered by the question, she didn't show it. "She'll leave the minute the bank is open and running smoothly. She'll be back before the holidays. After all, she won't want to be away for too many months. She has so many exciting announcements to make, so many life-altering events to look forward to—not only her wedding, but beyond."
