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"I have to give it a thought. More than a thought, in fact." George's hands balled into fists at his sides, his mutterings only half audible. "If she does anything else to ruin my life…" He stopped, sucked in his breath. "Just take care of the warrant," he snapped at Bates. "I'll deal with Anastasia."
* * *
Chapter 8
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The House of Lockewood was even more impressive than Anastasia had imagined. Running almost the full length of Bishopsgate Street
, it was a veritable world unto itself—a dignified world, with high, molded ceilings, polished marble floors and, at the head of the room, a bronze plaque of a coin bearing the Lockewood family crest, set on a pe
destal and flanked by twin columns. One side of the bank boasted a triple set of doors that admitted patrons, and between the doors were rows of floor-to-ceiling windows, adorned by deep-green velvet drapes.
The uniformed staff, properly spaced along the entire periphery of the room, stood behind walnut gates, ready to assist the bank's clientele. In the rear of the room were small, private cubicles, where bank officers could meet with customers on matters that required additional attention. Behind the cubicles stood a towering walnut door bearing a bronze plaque etched with the word PRIVATE—a clear divider between the main room and whatever lay beyond.
Anastasia wandered farther into the bank, her gaze shifting to the bustle of activity taking place around her. How many dozens of people must come and go from here over the course of a day, contributing to the aura of importance that permeated the House of Lockewood? How many of those people had Damen Lockewood advised, turned profits for, vitally impacted with respect to their financial success?
"My lady." A reedy gentleman, whose sleek top hat and dark green uniform heralded him as an employee of the House of Lockewood, hurried forward, bowing the instant Anastasia entered the bank. "We've been expecting you."
As he spoke, the bank's clock chimed eleven, precisely the hour Anastasia had told Damen she'd be arriving.
Curiously, she inclined her head. "Forgive me, sir, but how do you know who I am?"
A polite smile curved his lips. "I'm the head gatekeeper here. It's my job to recognize all our clients. Lord Medford visits our bank often, sometimes with Lady Breanna. And Lord Sheldrake told me how much alike you and your cousin look."
Anastasia smiled back. "I'm impressed, Mr.…?"
"Graff," he supplied. Another bow. "And it's my pleasure to assist you, my lady." He stepped back, making a grand sweep with his arm. "If you're ready, I'll show you to Lord Sheldrake's office. Mr. Fenshaw is expected shortly."
"Thank you, Mr. Graff." Anastasia cast another awed look around, then gathered up her skirts and followed him across the marble floors, past the individual cubicles, and through the massive walnut door.
A semicircular expanse of imposing offices loomed before her.
"This way, my lady." Graff gestured toward the farthest—and, clearly, the grandest—office; the one nestled in the corner by itself. He paused, knocking briskly on the gleaming door.
"Yes?" Damen's deep baritone rumbled from within.
"Lady Anastasia is here, my lord."
"Show her in, Graff."
"Yes, sir." Graff turned the handle and eased open the door. "Go right in, my lady," he instructed, carefully remaining outside.
"Thank you." Wondering what on earth to expect, Anastasia gripped the folds of her lilac gown, and crossed the threshold.
Instantly, the door shut behind her—so firmly that she jumped.
Chuckling, Damen rose from behind his desk, smoothing his striped silk waistcoat as he walked around to greet her. "Alone in the lion's den," he teased, taking her gloved hand and kissing it.
"That's a bit what I feel like." Anastasia studied her surroundings, taking in the walnut furnishings and green velvet drapes, similar to the ones that accented the rest of the bank, along with a few personal touches: stacks of leather-bound books on the desk and shelves, an Oriental carpet atop the polished floor, and two magnificent landscape paintings adorning the walls.
"Are you pleased with what you see; actually, with everything you've seen throughout the bank thus far?"
Anastasia nodded in amazement, her gaze returning to his. "I'm astounded. In fact, it's good I met you elsewhere first, or I'd probably be very intimidated."
Laughter rumbled from Damen's chest. "I can't imagine anyone or anything intimidating you."
"You're right." An impish grin. "Then let's just say I wouldn't have been nearly as relaxed around you as I have been." A bright flush stained her cheeks. "By relaxed, I didn't mean…"
