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On a completely different note, he was also touched by the tender-hearted side of her; the side that wanted to shield Breanna, to recapture the past, to change and shape the future. He was moved by her unwavering loyalty and commitment to her cousin; to the entire Colby family, actually. He'd seen the sadness in her eyes that first day in Fenshaw's office, watched her reaction during her father's will reading. She'd been heartbroken by the loss of her parents—something that no inheritance could abate.
And she'd adored her grandfather.
Figuring out what made people tick was one of Damen's finest abilities—an ability that made him damned good at his profession. He'd watched Anastasia carefully as Fenshaw told her about the six hundred thousand pounds; first noting her zealous refusal to produce her coin, then perceiving her inner turmoil as she struggled to understand just what her grandfather had wanted of her and Breanna, what he'd hoped to accomplish with his elaborate provisions.
And last night, when he'd come upon her on the balcony, when she'd spoken of a Medford Manor that no longer was—the late viscount was the person she'd been speaking of, the person she'd been missing.
Obviously, Anastasia's grandfather had been very close to his granddaughters—far closer than he'd been to his sons.
But George and Henry Colby were very different people, not only from their father, but from each other. And given George's unfeeling nature—well, there was no doubt in Damen's mind that Anastasia saw herself as Breanna's protector.
The question was, did Breanna need a protector? "Sheldrake. At last."
The very man Damen was about to ponder headed toward him.
"Hello, George." Damen turned, arched a quizzical brow. "I assume you were looking for me."
"Indeed I was." George stopped alongside the tree where Damen was lounging, mopping his brow after the exertion of his walk. "I was beginning to fear you'd left Medford Manor entirely."
"Why would I do that?"
A stiff shrug. "It's just that no one knew your whereabouts. Wells said only that you'd taken a stroll, and it became clear to me that you did so alone. Is everything all right?"
Damen's eyes narrowed. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
George hesitated, as if he were trying to decide how to phrase his answer. "I was concerned that someone might have offended you."
"Anyone in particular?"
"To be blunt, yes. My niece."
"Anastasia?" Damen feigned surprise, although he'd been expecting something like this. "Why would you think that?" A flicker of supposed realization—and a chuckle. "Do you mean because of her preoccupation with business? You know me better than that, George. I'm not bound to convention. Your niece is a very bright young woman."
"But she is a woman," George returned, his tone crisp. "And many of my guests were put off by her inane chatter about investing in an American bank."
Damen smiled, idly adjusting his cuffs. "Then your guests are fools. Because the notion is an excellent one. I've looked into it and I fully support Anastasia's efforts."
George's jaw looked as if it might drop into the peonies at his feet. "Are you saying you're allowing my niece to squander away a portion of Henry's money on a bank? In the States?"
"It's Anastasia's money now, George," Damen reminded him. "All of it. And, yes, I'll be authorizing the release of the necessary funds. In fact, I'll be doing more than that."
His complexion turning a sickly shade, George wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. His heart raced frantically as he tried to fathom just how much of Anastasia's inheritance was about to be lost to him forever. "You aren't suggesting…" He broke off, falling deadly silent as the final part of Damen's statement sank in.
Abruptly, the knot in his gut tightened to the point where he could barely speak. "More than that?" he repeated woodenly. "Are you suggesting that, on top of wasting Henry's funds, you're considering aiding Anastasia, acting as her backer in this absurd venture?"
"Her backer? No, I'm not considering that."
A tinge of relief crept into George's veins. "Thank goodness. You had me worried for a minute. I actually thought you were going to allow her to commit a large chunk of her inheritance to this, then make up the difference by loaning her your own funds…"
"I'm her partner," Damen interrupted. "We'll be investing equally in our new bank."
Another lethal silence.
Then: "You aren't serious."
"Oh, I'm very serious. The papers are being drawn up as we speak."
Unable to hide his outrage, George straightened, his eyes green chips of ice. "Why wasn't I consulted on this matter?"
