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"'I, Henry Colby, being of sound mind, do hereby give, devise, and bequeath…'"
The words droned on, stating her father's last wishes, the provisions he'd made for his sizable assets. Initially, there were no surprises. Henry had left everything he possessed—including his funds in both England and America, together with his share in Colby and Sons—to his beloved Anne. And, in the event that his wife predeceased him, to his daughter Anastasia, and to her children thereafter.
With regard to Anastasia's proper guardianship: Should she choose to remain in Philadelphia upon his and Anne's death, and should she, at that time, be unmarried and under the age of twenty-one, appropriate instructions had been left with Frederick Carter, his American solicitor, and would be read and carried out by the same. Should she, however, choose to return to England as he believed she would, his brother George would assume the role of her guardian, to properly reintroduce her to English society and to do his best to ensure her future happiness and well-being. To that end, and for that sole purpose alone, the sum of ten thousand pounds had been deposited at the House of Lockewood, from which George could withdraw whatever amounts were necessary to provide for Anastasia's coming-out.
At that point, Mr. Fenshaw paused and looked up, something about the intensity of his expression, the gravity of his stare as he glanced from one of them to the other, making them all aware that something unexpected was about to occur.
"Continue, Fenshaw," George instructed, waving his hand impatiently so as to hear the remainder of his brother's provisions.
Fenshaw cleared his throat. "'With regard to the above guardianship, I have several stipulations to make. First, Anastasia shall not be forced to abide any circumstances she finds intolerable; specifically, unduly harsh or unfeeling treatment, or excessive discipline that might result in squelching her spirit. Second, she shall never be forced to marry against her will, for while she needs a guardian's hand to guide her through the portals of society, she must be allowed to wed as her heart dictates.
"'If either of these stipulations is violated, if Anastasia should find herself unhappy or ill-treated in any manner, she will advise Mr. Fenshaw of such, at which point alternate provisions will be made for her guardianship. Should that occur, the funds set aside for Anastasia's coming-out will be transferred to her newly appointed guardian and will no longer be available to my brother, George.
"'Second, and more painful, is the matter of managing my daughter's newly acquired inheritance. It is no secret that my brother, George, and I do not agree about the importance of money, nor about the fervor through which it is earned or hoarded. Therefore, and excepting the sum set aside for Anastasia's coming-out, I specify that George's guidance and control over my daughter's life be limited only to non-financial matters. Specifically, in the event Anne and I should both die either before Anastasia is well and truly wed, or before her twenty-first birthday, I hereby appoint an administrator to oversee my daughter's inheritance, including her interest in Colby and Sons, and to advise her in her capacity as beneficiary. The man I have chosen to serve as that administrator is Damen Lockewood.
"'His lordship is a man of great honor and integrity, as well as one whose knowledge of my assets is surpassed only by his wisdom at investing them. He shall, therefore, be the sole overseer of Anastasia's financial resources, until or unless she weds, at which point the responsibility shall be transferred to her husband, or in the event of her death without husband or issue prior to the age of twenty-one, at which point my funds shall be equally divided between my brother George and his daughter Breanna."'
Halting, Mr. Fenshaw took an uncomfortable sip of water from the glass perched on his desk. "That, in essence, is that."
Scarcely had the words been uttered when George rose to his feet. His movements were controlled, deliberate, but Anastasia could feel the anger emanating from him.
"Those stipulations are absurd, Fenshaw," he stated, pressing his palms flat on the desk and leaning toward the solicitor. "Henry must not have been himself when he devised them."
"I assure you, he was quite himself, my lord," Fenshaw replied with the kind of quiet certainty that indicated he'd readied himself for just such a reaction. "The will was drawn eleven years ago, just before Henry took his family to America. We've been in constant touch ever since, and he remained adamant that the will stay as is. Mr. Carter, Henry's American solicitor, was advised to adhere to the terms and conditions as well, the only difference being he was given different guardianship provisions to comply with in the event Anastasia chose to remain in Philadelphia. However, in either case, the marquess was designated to administer Henry's estate for the next three months."
"Three months?" Damen spoke up for the first time, his tone probing rather than stunned. His expression was intent as he studied Mr. Fenshaw, his entire demeanor suggesting that he liked to be in possession of all the facts before he reacted.
"Yes," Anastasia heard herself reply, her voice sounding thin to her own ears. She was grappling with an onslaught of emotions besieging her all at once—emotions that required all her energy to sort out and master. There was bittersweet comfort that her father had taken the time to so carefully consider her future, weak-kneed relief that her uncle George would have minimal control over her life.
And bone-deep resentment that this total stranger sitting beside her would have ultimate say over her financial decisions. Especially given the plans she'd made in her father's memory.
Just pondering this unexpected constraint made her chin come up a mutinous notch. "Yes," she repeated, staring directly at Damen Lockewood. "Three months. I'll be twenty-one in October."
One dark brow lifted ever so slightly. "I see." His sharp gaze flickered past Anastasia and Breanna, focusing on George and assessing his obvious displeasure. "Does this provision of Henry's will present a problem for you, George?"
The marquess was certainly direct, Anastasia thought, automatically tensing as she awaited her uncle's response. No one spoke so boldly to George Colby—not without expecting to be cut off at the knees. Then again, few if any had Damen Lockewood's power.
She sneaked a peek to her left. Sure enough, her uncle was shaking his head, even as a muscle worked furiously in his jaw.
"No, Sheldrake," he managed to say. "A shock, perhaps, but not a problem."
"Are you certain?" Damen pressed. "Because if so, we'd best discuss it—now."
Curiously, Anastasia angled her gaze at the marquess, noting his unwavering stare and unruffled composure. Doubtless her uncle George noted them, too. "Consider it from my standpoint," he offered. "By appointing you to administer his funds, my brother has all but labeled me a financial buffoon. It's bad enough he intimated—in a less-than-subtle manner—that I might somehow mistreat Anastasia. But this…" He shook his head. "I always knew how deeply he disliked me, and how deeply he disapproved of my preoccupation with our business. But I never thought he'd doubt my judgment to the point where he'd refuse to grant me control, not only of his funds but of his interest in Colby and Sons. It's disgraceful."
Damen frowned. "I don't think Henry is doing any such thing. I think he wants an unbiased eye kept on the family business—which I do anyway, given my involvement in your company—and a knowledgeable banker who will advise Lady Anastasia in a manner that reflects the way her father would advise her were he alive. Dislike is not the issue here, George. Objectivity is."
Even as he spoke, Damen nodded his conviction. "Actually, I think Henry's decision is a prudent one, one that will ensure his daughter's happiness and continued prosperity, as well as that of his company. Remember, I have far more contacts in America than you. I can easily oversee the Philadelphian branch of Colby and Sons." A pointed cough, and Anastasia could swear the marquess was speaking more to her than to her uncle. "Besides, it's only for three months. After that, your niece will be mistress of her own fate." His lips twitched the tiniest bit. "Unless, of course, some gentleman sweeps her off her feet before that time and she decides to wed."
"I seriously doubt that will happen, my lord," Anastasia informed him, torn between annoyance at his absurd comment and admiration at the shrewd, concise way he had of explaining things so as best to soothe her volatile uncle's pride. "My feet are planted firmly on the ground and not likely to be swept anywhere."
This time Damen made no attempt to hide his grin.
"Very well, then, three months it is." He made to rise. "Shall we set up an
appointment to review your newly acquired assets?"
"Wait." Fenshaw forestalled Anastasia's reply, holding up a deterring palm. "There's another matter to be addressed before you leave."
