The Silver Coin (4 page)

“But I’m not…”

Damen stopped Anastasia with a gentle squeeze of her arm. “Thank you,” he called to the guard, gesturing for their driver to continue on his way.

“Why did you silence me?” Anastasia demanded, turning to her husband. “He thought I was Breanna.”

“I know,” Damen responded. “I wanted it that way. It got us inside faster, without further explanation. The sooner we reach the manor, the sooner we find out what the hell’s going on here.”

Anastasia opened her mouth to reply, then gasped, her attention captured by another, far more enticing sight. She pointed out the window as the carriage rolled down the drive toward the house. “Damen, look.” Her eyes widened, and she stared at the graceful structure to their left, workmen swarming all around it. “That’s our house—and it’s already standing. Why, it’s practically completed.”

“I’ll be damned.” Damen shook his head in amazement, as stunned by the progress that had been made during their absence as was his wife. “Breanna must have had these people working day and night.”

“Breannamust be working day and night,” Anastasia amended. “If I know her, she’s overseen all this construction herself. In fact…” She scrutinized the area carefully, searching until she saw the bright spot of burnished color that was her cousin’s hair. “Theresheis!” She whipped around. “Dixon, stop,” she instructed the driver.

The bewildered driver brought the carriage to a screeching halt.

“Take our bags to the house,” Damen advised him, stifling a grin. “We’ll follow on foot.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Dixon alighted, intending to properly assist his passengers, only to have Anastasia fling open her door, knocking him flat on his back as she leapt down from the carriage herself.

“Oh, Dixon, forgive me. Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, relief flooding her face as the driver squirmed to a sitting position.

“Fine, m’lady,” he assured her, brushing dirt off his uniform.

“Thank goodness.” She gathered up her skirts, looking like a thoroughbred at the starting gate. “Then if you’ll excuse me …”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

She took off at a run, shouting, “Breanna!” and waving her arm.

Damen swung down from the carriage, offering a hand to the half-crouched, half-sitting driver. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Dixon,” he consoled, his lips twitching as he helped the still-dazed driver to his feet. “Keeping up with my wife is next to impossible.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Dragging his sleeve across his brow, Dixon stared after Anastasia’s rapidly moving figure. Then, with a hard shake of his head, he jumped back into his seat and drove on.

Chuckling, Damen watched Stacie rush towardhercousin, shouting over the din and waving frantically.

Breanna glanced up, spotted her, and broke into at immediate run.

“Stacie!”

The cousins embraced, laughing as they broke apart, saw all the workmen gaping at them, and realized what a spectacle they were making.

“You’re home. I can’t believe it!” Breanna grasped Stacie’s hands, surveying her from head to toe. “You look wonderful. Positively radiant. Marriage agree; with you.” She glanced beyond Stacie and smiled as Damen approached them. “And here’s the man responsible for your radiance. Welcome home, Damen.”

“Breanna.” He kissed her hand, then gave her a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Home, indeed,” Stacie piped up, moving excitedly about as she assessed the manor that was fast taking shape. “I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished. My God, have you slept since September?”

A hopeful look lit Breanna’s eyes—eyes that seemed unusually puffy, lined, with heavy dark circles beneath them.

For reasons of her own, she disregarded Stacie’s question in lieu of her own. “Do you like it? I was half afraid you’d object to the artistic liberties I took. But you were so preoccupied before the wedding, and couldn’t get you to sit still and look at the sketches. And with winter nearly upon us, we had to lay the foundation right away. Either that or we’d have to wait until spring, which would mean your home wouldn’t be ready until next fall. I couldn’t bear having you in London until then. So I got things started. You’ll do all the decorating yourself, of course.”

“Of coursenot,”Stacie corrected. “I have no talent at decorating, and you know it. I need your help— with every last piece of furniture.” She gazed at the half-finished manor again, her eyes growing damp. “You did all this for us… Breanna, what would I ever do without you?” She gulped back a sob.

Breanna blinked in surprise. “Stacie, you’re crying. Why?”

“Because I’m touched. Because I’m so glad to be home. Because I missed you. Because I can’t believe how much you took on while we were away. Because—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Breanna interrupted, inclining her head in puzzlement. “I know why you’re happy. And I’m as thrilled as you—that you’re home, that you like what I’ve done. But you never cry. At least you never used to.”

“That was then,” Stacie informed her ruefully, dabbing at her eyes. “This is now. I seem to be doing a fair amount of crying these days. Crying and swooning and retching. It’s completely unlike me.”

Their gazes met.

“You’re with child.” Breanna’s words were a statement, not a question, and she seized Stacie’s hands again, staring insightfully at the spot where her mantle covered her abdomen, as if she could see through to the changes beneath. “I knew it. Oh, Stacie, I’m so happy for you.” She hugged her cousin, then Damen, tears glistening on her own lashes. “I’m going to be an aunt. Not a second cousin, mind you, because as far as I’m concerned, you’re my sister, not my cousin. So, this babe will call me Aunt Breanna.” She grew serious for a moment. “Are you all right—you and the babe?”

“We are . But Damen’s not.” Anastasia shot her husband a teasing look. “He’s been overwrought the en tire trip home. The ship’s doctor nearly tossed bin overboard several times. Not to mention that the doctor was the first one to disembark when we docked He nearly knocked down three elderly women in hi; haste to get away. By now, he’s probably at some out of-the-way alehouse, in a drunken stupor and planning how to avoid the House of Lockewood for the next six months.”

Breanna laughed—a small, strained sound. “I’ll take that as a warning. Wells will make sure Damen has a full snifter of brandy each night before bed to calm his nerves.” Her expression grew hopeful. “That is, if you stay here. You will stay here, won’t you? You won’t go to London? I know it’ll mean less privacy fa you, but—”

“I’ve already sent our driver on to the manor with our bags,” Damen interceded, dismissing her concern with a wave of his arm. “Knowing how much Stacie missed you, I’d never think of separating you two again. Besides, this way we can take over supervising the building of our home. Correction,I can take over supervising the building of our home. Stacie is to get no closer to the construction than we are now. Please Breanna, I’m counting on you to keep an eye on your cousin during the hours I spend at the bank. I’ll be forever in your debt.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Damen not incapacitated. Fine.” She held up her palm to ward off his tirade. “I’ll be as docile as a lamb.”

“That’ll be the day.”

“I’ll take care of Stacie.” Breanna smoothed he hand over her hair—and Stacie could have sworn her fingers shook. “You have my word, Damen. I’ll never let any harm befall her. Never.”

Breanna’s oddly somber tone, her seemingly extreme reaction struck an uneasy chord in Stacie’s mind. But before she could open her mouth to respond, her cousin had rushed on.

“I have so much to tell you,” she declared, feeling Stacie’s quizzical stare, and averting her gaze to avoid it.

Nonetheless, Stacie saw the worried shadow flicker across her face.

“We’re hosting that party you and I discussed,” Breanna informed her brightly. “Right here. The week after Christmas. Wells, Mrs. Charles, and Mrs. Rhodes planned the whole thing. It will be a holiday party, birthday celebration, and welcome home gathering all in one. I’m sure it will be the talk of theton.In  addition,we’ve also been invited to a dozen holiday parties elsewhere. Of course, you’ll have to tell me which invitations you want to accept and which you don’t—”

“Breanna.” Stacie had had enough. This sort of aimless babbling was as unusual for Breanna as crying was for her. It was time to get to the bottom of this.

Silencing her cousin’s chatter, Stacie lifted Breanna’s chin and studied her—closely—for the first time. No, she hadn’t imagined the dark shadows beneath Breanna’s eyes, nor the strain tightening her face. And her cheeks, when she wasn’t smiling, were pale.

“What’s wrong?” Stacie demanded. “And don’t tell me nothing. I won’t believe you. I’ve had the oddest feeling for over a week now—like something ominous was going on here. Tell me what’s happened.”

Shoulders sagging, Breanna gave up the pretense.

“I prayed I wouldn’t have to tell you,” she said, lacing her fingers tightly together. “I prayed it would all be resolved by the time you got home. But it isn’t. And now, there’s a babe to consider … so you have to know.”

“Know what?”

“A little over a week ago I received a package—a package and a note.” A weighted pause. “They were a warning.”

“A warning?” Stacie echoed. “From whom?”

“From the man Father paid to kill you.““What?”Stacie blanched. “From that assassin who tried—?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so certain?” A muscle flexed in Damen’s jaw. “What was in the package? What did the note say? What land of warning?” Damen’s questions sliced the air like a knife, and he slid a protective arm about his wife. “Breanna, I think you’d better tell us everything.”

With a weary nod, Breanna did, eliminating none of the details, including the trip she’d made to Bow Street and the lack of information they’d turned up. “But I know in my gut it washewho sent them. I think Bow Street agrees, even if they’ve washed their hands of the matter.”

“That explains the extra security,” Anastasia concluded aloud. ” And my uneasy feeling.”

“Yes. Wells arranged for guards.”

“How can Bow Street just dismiss such blatant evidence?” Anastasia asked, twisting around to gaze up at her husband.

“No crime has been committed,’ Damen returned quietly, his forehead creased in thought. “Did they talk to the messenger who delivered the package?”

“Yes.” Breanna nodded. “He had no contact with whoever sent it. The lad was given the box by his supervisor when he reported for work. And, according to the supervisor, the package was left, along with an envelope containing delivery instructions and a ten pound note, on his doorstep.”

“Then Bow Street’s exhausted their clues. Also, judging from the headlines of the newspaper we bought in London, they’re consumed with this murder investigation.” Damen pursed his lips. “There’s got to be something we can do. And there is always the chance Marks is right—that this madman will stop his threats as quickly as he started them,”

“You don’t believe that,” Stacie said quietly.

Soberly, Damen met her gaze, deliberately masking the full extent of his worry, yet unable to demean what they had together by offering her a barefaced lie. “No. I don’t.”

A heartbeat of silence.

Breanna drew herself up—a gesture that proclaimed she was battling her own fears, and determined to master them. “This is the first day I’ve ventured out since Mr. Marks delivered his report,” she admitted “I’ve been too alarmed and too preoccupied to go about my business. But when I awakened this morning, I made a decision. I refuse to become a prisoner in my own home— again .Father’s gone. No one’s going to do to me what he did.

“Besides,” she continued, the edge in her tone softening, giving way to anticipation—and more than a touch of eagerness. “I was impatient to come out here and see how much work had been done on yourhome.” She clasped Stacie’s hands, hoping against hope that she and Damen might still salvage the pleasure of watching their new home take shape—a surprise she’d relished giving them long before the threatening package arrived. “Let’s not let this ruin your homecoming. Come. I want to show you your new manor—or at least the portion of it that’s completed.”

“Of course.” Anastasia tossed Damen a beseeching look—one that spoke volumes. She was asking him to grant Breanna the measure of peace she needed—for the moment. There would be plenty of time to dwell on the horrid possibilities suggested by the threatening package. But for now, it was time to savor the joys of being home. For all their sakes.

“All right.” Damen’s taut nod told her he understood, although he did pause long enough to scan the grounds with an unsettled eye. “But,” he added, unable to totally dismiss the worry that still gnawed at him, “after that I want to inspect those dolls and read that note.”

“Of course.” Breanna agreed at once, more grateful than she was unnerved. “Oh, and Damen? If you could convince Wells that your being here means there’s another strong and able-bodied man to see to our safety, I’d be forever in your debt. That poor man has taken on the roles of guardian, overseer, and sentry. I worry about his strength holding out.”

“I’ll talk to him the minute we get to the manor.” Damen’s lips thinned into a tight, unyielding line. “As for you and Stacie, nothing and no one will get near you. You can count on that.” He cleared his throat, deferring this conversation for later. “Now, let’s take a tour of our home.”

He guided the two women forward, pausing only long enough to peer over his shoulder, his penetrating gaze raking the grounds in one more exhaustive sweep.

Other than the crew of workmen toiling in their immediate vicinity, everything seemed quiet. Safe, he thought. At least for now.

So this is Lady Breanna’s bedchamber .

He smiled darkly, hovering near the doorway and surveying the feminine decor.

Immaculate mahogany furniture .Canopiedbed .Pristine bedcovers.A n array of tiny porcelain figures decorating the night-stand, dresser, and fireplace mantel.

Orderly, delicate, and intact. Just like its owner.

She wouldn’t stay intact for long.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass, and smiled at the bizarre image he made. Workman’s clothes. They hardly suited him. Still, the disguise had gained him entry to the estate. He’d known today would be the day. The minute he heard the gossip in London—that the Marquess of Sheldrake had returned from his wedding trip—he knew she’d finally be leaving her sanctuary today. If only to show the partially finished manor to the newly married couple.