The Silver Coin by Andrea Kane Page A

integrity and partially because he refused to settle for the mediocrity offered by others. He probed, he challenged, yet he drew his own figurative line—a line he wouldn’t cross to reach his ends.
    In short, reckless or not, Royce Chadwick was a fine man—one Damen admired and, at the moment, needed.
    Pulling his carriage alongside the house, Damen swung down, hastened up the steps, and knocked.
    An older man with ice blue eyes, silver hair, and a cloaked expression answered the door. “Yes? Ah, Lord Sheldrake.” His thin lips pursed so tightly they seemed to disappear into his face. “Forgive me, sir, I didn’t realize you had an appointment.”
    “Don’t apologize, Hibbert.I didn’t.”
    Damen stepped into the entranceway, knowing he had his work cut out for him. Trying to talk his way past this man was akin to single-handedly taking on an army. Hibbert was more than Royce’s butler, more even than his steward and his clerk. He was all three— anda veritable sentry who stood between his employer and the world. Plus, he was Royce’s right hand, his advisor, ofttimes his eyes and his ears. Hibbert’s distinguished, elderly appearance stood him in good stead when he was helping Royce gather information. No one suspected that beneath the aged, benign exterior lurked the intelligence, cunning and agility of a fox.
    “Is Royce home?” Damen demanded without preliminaries. “Because, if so, I need to see him. Now.”
    Hibbert arched a brow. “It’s not like you to become overwrought, my lord.”
    “That’s because I’m usually here because someone’s threatening my money. This time someone’s threatening my wife.”
    A sharp intake of breath. “I see.” HibbertstudiedDamen for one long thoughtful moment. Then, he nodded. “Have a seat in Lord Royce’s office. You know where it is. I’ll see if I can free up some of his time.”
    “I’d appreciate that.” Damen strode down the hall,turning intothe cluster of rooms Royce used for his work. He stepped into the outer office, bypassing the settee and pacing over to the bookshelves. He tapped the volumes impatiently, not really seeing them, then walked over to the window and gazed out.
    Damn, he hoped he was overreacting. Maybe it really had been a thief who’d killed Knox. Maybe it wasn ‘tthat demented assassin. Maybe the incident was totally unrelated to the package Breanna had received. Maybe neither she nor Anastasia were in danger.
    Then again, maybe they were.
    “Hibbert’s right! You aren’t yourself.”
    Damen turned, grateful as hell to see Royce Chadwick lounging in the doorway. “No, I’m not.”
    “Welcome home.” The tall, broad-shouldered man straightened, folding his arms across his chest and studying Damen through penetrating midnight blue eyes that were so dark people often mistook them for black. “Congratulations, albeit belatedly, on your marriage. I’m sorry I missed the wedding. It couldn’t be helped. I was halfway back from India.” Royce ran a hand over his square jaw, missing nothing of his colleague’s distress. “For a man who just returned from his wedding trip, you look wretched. Marriage too much for you?”
    “Hardly.” Damen wasn’t in a lighthearted mood. “In fact, I’m beginning to wish that Stacie and I had never come home. She was finally safe. The biggest worry I had was seeing how weak she became after perpetually kneeling over the chamber pot—”
    Dark brows shot up. “Kneeling over the chamber pot? Does that mean you have another announcement to make?”
    “As a matter of fact, yes.”
    A low whistle. “I’m impressed. After only three months of marriage. No wonder you enjoyed your trip so much.” Royce gave Damen a mock salute before moving into the room, crossing over toward the inner office and gesturing for Damen to follow. “Double my congratulations, then.”
    “Royce, we need to talk.” Damen entered the room, shut the door behind him.
    “So I gathered. Hibbert said it was