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Reluctantly, the viscount signaled Breanna, then strode out of the salon. Breanna followed suit, but hovered in the doorway for an instant, tossing Anastasia an I-can't-wait-to-hear-the-details look. Then she followed her father into the hallway, shutting the door in her wake.
Lord Sheldrake waited until the quiet click heralded the privacy he'd sought.
"Have a seat," he instructed Anastasia, gesturing offhandedly at the mahogany settee opposite the sofa. Brow furrowed, he resumed perusing his stack of papers. "This shouldn't take long. I'll explain all your father's assets to you as simply as I can, then give you my recommendations with regard to investments. Or, if you'd prefer, I can just take care of things myself, and not trouble you at all. Whatever your preference, I will, of course, keep records of all the transactions I conduct on your behalf in the event you want to see where your inheritance has been invested and how its value grows."
"Stop." Anastasia held up her palm, certain she'd scream if he continued for one more moment. "First, you needn't exert yourself searching for simple words of explanation. I am very familiar with financial terms. I'm also well acquainted with the options available to me—especially those I'd be interested in pursuing. In addition, given that the money in question is mine and not yours, I insist not only on being apprised but on approving each and every investment decision involving my inheritance. And last, I have some recommendations to offer you."
Damen Lockewood's head came up, and he stared at her, utter astonishment written all over his face. "Do you now?" he murmured at length. Abruptly, his lips twitched. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise me."
"But it does."
"Yes, it does—this time. Which is quite a coup for you, given that I'm rarely caught off-guard. However, what I never am is stupid—stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. So, from here on in, I won't be surprised."
He tossed down his papers and folded his arms across his chest—scrutinizing her in a way that indicated he was abandoning his customary tactics. Then he advanced toward her, a challenging gleam in his eye. "Very well, my lady. I suggest we try a different approach. You tell me what you already know of your assets, what additional information you need, and how and where you suggest investing them. First, I'll listen. Then I'll give you my input, after which decisions will be made. How would that be?"
Anastasia's brows rose. "You'd really agree to that kind of exchange? You'd actually hear me out?"
"I would." A slow smile spread across the marquess's face. "It appears that now I've surprised you."
"I have to admit you have. Somehow, I didn't expect you to be so … so…"
"Open-minded?" he supplied.
Anastasia nodded. "Yes. Open-minded."
"Well, I am—sometimes. Other times, I'm every bit as rigid as you anticipated I'd be. Which quality I demonstrate depends upon the wisdom of what I hear. Fair enough?"
"I suppose it will have to be."
One dark brow shot up. "Meaning?"
"Meaning you were careful to say that decisions would be made. I notice you didn't qualify who would make those decisions."
A corner of Lord Sheldrake's mouth lifted. "No, I didn't, did I?" He chuckled, gesturing toward the sofa. "Nonetheless, I did agree to listen to your ideas, if not to defer to them. So, can we sit down, or must we continue to do battle standing up?"
Reluctantly, Anastasia gathered up her skirts and crossed over, perching at the edge of the settee and waiting, stiff-backed, until the marquess had followed suit. Only after he'd lowered himself to the adjoining sofa did she relax. Bad enough that the man towered over her when they were both on their feet. But with him standing and her seated, she felt dwarfed by his size and power—a perception that made her feel at a distinct disadvantage, something she was unwilling to allow.
"I'm neither armed nor dangerous," he interrupted, as if reading her mind.
"I realize that." Anastasia started, taken aback by the magnitude of his insight. She eyed him intently. Armed? Dangerous? That was a matter of opinion. This man needed no weapon to be a formidable adversary. He was intelligent, powerful, and self-assured. He also had an impressive array of contacts and an unrivaled level of success—both of which she intended to profit from, and which had factored heavily into the amended strategy she'd devised last night.
"Is it true you privately convene with kings all over the Continent to offer them financial counsel?" she blurted out, inspired by the possibilities her own thoughts had conjured up. "Is your courier system really faster than that of any sovereign? Is that one of the reasons for your success? Do you get advance information that gives you an edge in determining your own investments, as well as those of your clients'?"
At first, amusement flickered in his eyes, but as the questions continued to be fired, it faded, eclipsed by a hint of wariness. "What inspired this deluge of questions?" he asked when she'd paused for air. "Is it idle curiosity? Or is it more? Because if you're prying, I don't discuss my clients or the nature of their business ventures with anyone. And if you're verifying my credentials, I assure you, I'm as qualified as your father deemed me to be."
Anastasia couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for the marquess's integrity. "Part harmless curiosity, my lord," she assured him candidly. "And part personal interest. I wasn't doubting you, nor was I prying. I'm simply fascinated by how extensive your dealings are, and how notable your contacts. As I told you yesterday, your reputation precedes you."
The wariness vanished as quickly as it had come. "In that case, I'll merely say thank you." A twinkle. "I'm glad I've piqued your interest—and equally glad I've impressed you."
"I didn't say I was impressed," Anastasia amended, her own eyes dancing. "Not yet, anyway. You'll have to work harder to accomplish that feat."
To her surprise, Lord Sheldrake laughed aloud. "You, Lady Anastasia, are quite a handful. Physical resemblance aside, it's hard to believe you and Breanna are related."
"Breanna has had more restrictions than I," Anastasia said, defending her cousin swiftly. "I was fortunate. I lived in America, and my parents encouraged my curiosity and, to a great extent, my independence. Breanna's situation is quite different."
"Yes, I know. Quite different." The marquess pursed his lips, diverting the subject before Anastasia had a chance to figure out his underlying meaning. "Tell me, what makes you think I meant that as a compliment?"
"Pardon me?"
