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Anastasia watched her cousin weave her way across the room. "Sometimes I forget how much Breanna is deprived of," she murmured to herself. "So much so that a chat with a group of women is like an extraordinary gift. How in God's name can Uncle George…" She broke off, realizing she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.
"I don't know," Lord Sheldrake surprised her by answering. "But it can't stay that way. Nor will it, now that you're home. You're very good for Breanna. I've never heard her speak her mind before. It's a healthy sign."
Before Anastasia could respond or even contemplate the marquess's words, he dropped the subject. Turning on his heel, he tightened his grasp on her arm and began drawing her toward the refreshment table. "Come. It's time to accost Lord Dutton."
Anastasia complied, although Lord Sheldrake's subtle taunt was not lost on her. In response, she tossed him a saucy look. "I'm not going to accost him," she retorted. "I'm going to offer him the chance of a lifetime."
* * *
Chapter 5
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Unfortunately, Lord Dutton didn't seem to share Anastasia's opinion. Oh, he gleefully acknowledged Lord Sheldrake's introduction, swaggered his fat little body when he heard she wanted to speak with him alone, then gobbled her up with his eyes when the marquess walked away. But when he heard the nature of her business—or rather, that all she wanted to discuss was business—his entire demeanor changed. He looked shocked, then offended, and finally scornful, not even waiting to hear the details before he brought the conversation to a rapid close and made his way back to the desserts.
She received similar responses from the other eleven businessmen she approached—from Edgar Lyman, the shipbuilder, to Arthur Landow, the wealthy manufacturer, to Viscount Crompton, a retired military general who invested his inherited fortune just for diversion, even to William Bates, a London magistrate who received huge stipends for keeping dangerous criminals off the streets and who reputedly had a knack for making large amounts of money through various business ventures—to every other prospective investor on her list.
No one was interested in conducting business with a woman, much less investing their funds in an American bank.
An hour later, Anastasia was more discouraged than she could bear.
Easing her way through the throng of intoxicated guests, she slipped out onto the balcony, hoping to have a few minutes to herself. She needed to collect her thoughts before her uncle summoned her for the inevitable formal introduction to the room at large—an introduction that would be happening at any moment, given that almost all the guests had now arrived.
The night sky was clear, and filled with stars. Anastasia leaned against the railing, gazing up at the bright specks of light and remembering when she and Breanna used to count them, trying to get closer to the heavens by climbing that favorite oak of theirs.
Somehow Anastasia never felt she'd climbed high enough.
But Grandfather always believed she would someday, that both she and Breanna would reach their own symbolic peak.
With a wistful smile, Anastasia gazed off to the right, fond memories of her grandfather and her childhood surging to the forefront of her mind.
It was too dark to make out the outlines of specific buildings, but she knew the stables were in the direction she was facing. She remembered the dawn when she and Grandfather had walked there to see a new foal being born. Life, Grandfather had explained to her, was the most precious gift God offered. And the ties born of that life were equally precious. Even animals knew that, he'd explained. Even they possessed that unique, priceless instinct to love those who belonged to them.
He'd shown her the natural affinity between mare and foal, a bond that was only a fraction of what human beings felt toward their young.
Family. That was even more important than personal accomplishments—not only to Grandfather, but to her. But what if one was integrally tied to the other? What if accomplishing a feat was the first step in carrying on a lineage, perhaps even in restoring ties that should never have been broken?
Anastasia massaged her temples, contemplating not only her immediate goals—to pay tribute to her father and unite and expand Colby and Sons—but the enormous sum of money Grandfather had left her and Breanna. How would they put that money to work in order to do their grandfather justice, to reap the rewards he was determined that they reap, not only for themselves, but f
or their children, their future?
If tonight was any indication, then Anastasia feared Grandfather's hopes and dreams would fall by the way-side.
Dear God, what if she let him down?
"Here you are."
Damen Lockewood strolled out onto the balcony, coming up to stand beside her. He leaned his elbow on the railing and angled himself to face her. "You're discouraged. After twelve fruitless efforts, I can't blame you."
Anastasia continued to stare off into space, hovering somewhere between dejection and nostalgia. "Have you come out here to gloat?"
"Hardly." He fell silent for a moment, studying her profile intently as he chose his next words. "Tell me something, my lady. Is your original offer still open—the one regarding a potential partnership between us?"
Whatever Anastasia had been expecting, it hadn't been this.
She whirled about, her eyes wide. "What did you say?"
"I asked if your original offer still stands. Because if it does, if you're still interested in having me co-finance this venture of yours, I'd like to accept."
