Blackhearts

by Nicole Castroman

  No one had come to their aid then. Why would strangers care about her now? Especially in this cold house.

  “Please, Anne. Will you do it for me?” Sara asked, her voice pleading. Her mother was sick, and it was up to Sara to earn money for the family. She could not afford to lose her job.

  “All right. I’ll go.”

  Sara gave her what she no doubt thought was an encouraging smile but actually resembled a grimace, before turning back to the dishes.

  Impulsively Anne slipped into the pantry and scanned the different earthenware jars that lined the shelves. She settled upon a small, red one. Ginnie pepper. Her mother had often used it in her cooking. The seeds were very hot and dry. She grabbed a few and slid them into her apron pocket, determined to return to the fight with her own form of ammunition.

  CHAPTER 5

  Teach

  The dining room door swung open, and Teach watched as Anne reentered, her back straight, her expression closed. She kept her gaze on the carpet, crossing to the buffet and following the other maid’s movements.

  He wondered what was going through her mind at the moment, amazed she had the nerve to come back after Patience’s and his father’s comments. His father no doubt believed he was helping Anne by allowing her to work in his household.

  Patience was another matter. Teach noticed the frown on his betrothed’s lips, a sure sign of her unease. He was quite certain it had more to do with Anne’s beauty than with her suitability as a maid, or her race. Patience did not take well to competition, especially in the form of a house servant.

  When Teach had been younger and had first been attracted to Patience, he’d found her caustic nature amusing. He’d never been on the receiving end and had often laughed at her cutting remarks when she’d discussed other members of the aristocracy.

  But now he recognized her comments for what they were: a way to make herself feel better when confronted with a rival.

  Despite his irritation with Anne, even he had to admit that Patience’s words had been in poor taste.

  “The food is simply wonderful,” William said, taking a portion of potatoes from the platter in Anne’s hands.

  Anne hesitated before moving on to Patience.

  “Drummond demands the best,” Lord Hervey boomed, taking a hearty bite of pheasant. “Have you not seen his ship?”

  Lady Hervey laughed, a shrill sound like breaking glass, much like her daughter’s laughter. “I, personally, have not. Would you be so kind as to show it to me?” she said, leaning toward Teach. “My own private tour.”

  Teach chanced a glance at the baron, surprised the baroness would speak to her future son-in-law in that manner. The baron didn’t seem to notice his wife’s boldness.

  His daughter certainly did. Patience cleared her throat. “Mr. Edward doesn’t have time for such things, Mama. We have much more pressing issues to discuss.”

  Lady Hervey leaned back in her seat, a frown between her brows. Teach could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to come up with something to break the strained silence. It was clear from Patience’s reaction that she was accustomed to her mother’s flirtatious behavior. Only the baron appeared unaffected. If her daughter’s marriage hadn’t been planned for two years, Teach had the distinct feeling the baroness would likely have made a play for him herself.

  It had been more than a year since Teach had last seen the Hervey family. He was trying to decide if they had changed so very much in that time, or if the change lay solely with him. Before, he’d found their eccentricities amusing. Now he was annoyed.

  The maids retired to the side of the buffet, and Teach found his eyes drawn to Anne over the course of the meal. Her expression was oddly calculating. She appeared to be watching the group, waiting for something, but he was unsure what.

  All he knew was that her expression did not match that of the other girl. The two could not have been more different. The plump one made eyes at William, blushing a pretty pink when he returned her stare. Anne looked like she wished the entire dinner party would fall off the end of a dock, with nary a boat in sight.

  “Tell me about your year at sea, Mr. Edward,” Lady Hervey said, reaching over and touching Teach on his sleeve.

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” he said, his face lighting up at her request.

  “Was it terribly difficult?”

  “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. In the past twelve months I’ve encountered more danger than some men experience their whole lives. We nearly sank in a storm off the coast of Jamaica. We were attacked by a Spanish sloop with ten guns and a crew of fifty, and barely made it to port before our captain died from his injuries,” he said, aware he held the entire room captive with his voice. “Yet if the chance were to present itself, I would leave again tomorrow.”

  Teach wasn’t sure who appeared more displeased at his statement—Patience, Lady Hervey, or his father. Anne, for one, looked thrilled. She was no doubt wondering if she could go to the docks herself and commission a captain and a ship if it meant she would be rid of him. Teach’s irritation with the girl took on illogical proportions. She definitely needed to be taught her proper place in this household.

  “But surely you don’t mean that,” Patience said, leaning forward and revealing a dangerous amount of décolletage, no longer content to let her mother steer the conversation.

  It was Drummond who spoke next, his face hard. “No, he does not mean it. Edward’s time at sea has passed. I granted him one year, to get it out of his system,” he said, glowering. “He had a bit of excitement and adventure, but now it’s time to get serious again about his future.”

  Lord Hervey took a sip of wine before turning to Teach. “You spent several years at Eton, didn’t you? A most excellent school. I remember my days there,” he said fondly, clasping his hands in front of him. “What was your favorite subject?”

  Teach shrugged but made no comment, knowing his father would not take kindly to his saying he cared more for navigation than Latin.

  Drummond sat up straight. “At my request Edward was exposed to many different subjects, and he enjoyed them all. He excelled at Greek and Latin. Mathematics also appeared to be to his liking,” he said. “He read the works of John ­Milton and other renowned authors. While I do not approve of ­Milton’s disdain for Catholicism, Edward learned a great deal.”

  Lord Hervey slapped Drummond on the back. “If he went to Eton, it was more likely gambling and drinking that he learned.”

  Only the slight tightening of his lips displayed Drummond’s displeasure, but he was discreet enough not to correct the baron’s statement.

  It was William who added a bit of levity to the conversation. “Oh, no, he was a model student. Despite my attempts to lure him into shocking dens of greed, your son stayed clear of the gaming tables and drinks so that the rest of us had something to be good at,” he said, with a self-deprecating smile.

  Some in the party laughed, and the moment passed.

  Teach shook his head, wondering how much longer this inanity would continue. He did not feel well and wished to retire as soon as possible. His head pounded, and he was uncomfortably warm. But it was the lesser of two evils to obey his father and simply remain where he was, a helpless bystander in this farce.

  Not to be forgotten amidst the talk of personal edification, Patience cleared her throat. “Who is John Milton?”

  Teach groaned inwardly. She was a baron’s daughter. How could she not know of Milton? Teach’s mother had often read Milton’s works in the evening. He remembered sitting near the fire, listening, inspired by the prose so full of passion for freedom and self-determination.

  He glanced at his father, wondering not for the first time if he was still intent on joining his line with the Herveys’.

  The fork in Drummond’s hand stopped midway to his mouth, for Teach wa
s not the only one surprised by her lack of knowledge. “John Milton was a poet,” he said, speaking as if to a child.

  Patience nodded, pretending understanding. In truth, Teach knew she cared far more about her appearance than her education. She could paint a pretty landscape or stitch an altar cloth, but she’d once told him that literature and poetry would likely blemish her complexion with concentration lines.

  Teach felt an inexplicable need to break the uncomfortable silence. “Don’t worry, Miss Patience. I’d be happy to introduce you to the works of Milton. Paradise Lost is one of my favorites, and I believe you’ll be a very quick study.”

  “I look forward to it,” she said, smiling, no doubt remembering the last time they had been alone.

  William spoke up. “That’s Teach for you,” he said, a grin on his face.

  “Teach?” Drummond asked.

  William nodded. “That’s what we called Edward at school. If you were willing to learn, he was always willing to teach you.”

  “Well, I’m a very willing pupil,” Patience said.

  Lady Hervey glanced between the two of them, a frown on her face. “I wrote a poem once, when Patience was just a child.”

  “Oh, no, Mama, please—” Patience began.

  Ignoring her daughter’s protest, Lady Hervey launched into her text. “Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace. Both put together, make a pretty face.”

  William choked on his food, his face turning red. ­Drummond and Lord Hervey smiled politely. Lady Hervey beamed as if lauded with praise. It took considerable effort on Teach’s part not to burst out laughing, for he could not tell if the mother had been trying to outshine her daughter or praise her with that poem. In either case, the poem was a disservice.

  His gaze found Anne. It was apparent by the frown on her face that she thought the entire group beneath her contempt. It didn’t help his temperament that he partly shared her sentiments.

  At the moment the group did appear silly, their comments trivial and unimportant. The fact that a maid recognized it did not sit well with him.

  He pierced a potato with his fork and chewed with vigor. How dare she stand there and look back at him like that? He could feel her judgment of everyone, himself included, and found he was on the defensive.

  What was so wrong with the people seated at the table? Yes, Lady Hervey and her daughter had led sheltered lives, and seemed rather ignorant, but it was not their fault. It was a result of their station.

  And, admittedly, mother and daughter were not above competing with each other. It was sometimes hard to tell who flirted more with the male members of the party. But Teach didn’t mind it so much when he was on the receiving end. Who wouldn’t want two beautiful women fighting over him?

  And William could be a bit overbearing, but that was because he was the son of a duke. There were three things in life William could not live without. Bad poetry, sugary treats, and women. In his case, two of those vices prevented the attainment of the third. William recognized his flaws and was often self-deprecating, the complete opposite of Teach’s father, which explained why Teach had always enjoyed spending time with his old school friend.

  In truth, the Earl of Lorimar was no more of a gentleman than Patience was a gentlewoman.

  By the time dessert was served, Teach was as tightly wound as a top. He declined the tartlet placed before him and gritted his teeth, waiting for the meal to be over.

  The other guests, unaware of his suffering, dug into their desserts with enthusiasm.

  Across the table, Patience’s eyes grew wide with the first bite. While everyone around her enjoyed the dessert, the veins in her neck began to bulge, and tears streamed down her face. She emptied her goblet and motioned for Anne to pour more.

  “I’ll have to go and fetch some, miss,” Anne said, her lips twisting into what appeared to Teach to be a smug grin.

  From his vantage point, it looked as though the decanter in Anne’s hands was half-full, but she left the room so quickly, he couldn’t be sure.

  He jumped up, but when he reached Patience’s side of the table, he did not quite know how to ease the situation. William, too, stood next to them, for once at a loss for words. By the time Anne returned to the dining room, Patience’s face was a deep shade of red, and she was fanning herself with her napkin, gasping for breath.

  Lady Hervey was bent over at the waist next to Patience, pushing the tartlet around on its dish. “I don’t see anything. I can’t imagine what it could be.”

  Anne removed the offending plate and returned it to the sideboard. Lord Hervey insisted on calling a doctor. Drummond was the only voice of reason, contending that a doctor wasn’t necessary.

  “She simply ate something that didn’t agree with her,” he said. “Perhaps she is not used to the variety of cinnamon the cook uses.”

  It took Patience three more goblets of wine before she stopped choking and was able to recover somewhat. Everyone took their seats once more.

  After that, Drummond kept a tight rein on the afternoon’s proceedings. The conversation revolved around the ­Deliverance, and everyone recognized just how passionate ­Richard ­Drummond was about his ship.

  By the time the meal was over, Teach wasn’t the only one sorely in need of a drink.

  Everyone stood, the men moving in groups toward the library, the women to the drawing room. Teach held the door open as William exited. He made as if to follow him, but stopped in the doorway.

  Mary and Anne moved in to clean up the table. Mary was nearest the door that led from the dining room to the kitchen and slid out before Anne could stop her. The door swung shut behind her.

  Teach heard Anne curse, clearly annoyed, her arms full of dishes. She held out her hand for the knob but couldn’t extend enough to reach it. Teach crossed the floor behind her, reached over her, and pulled the door open.

  Trapped between the door and his body, she froze. He knew he was using his size to intimidate her, but nothing else seemed to work where she was concerned. She was as bold as a badger and just as fierce. He could feel the heat emanating from her.

  Anne swallowed, turning to meet his gaze.

  “What did you put in the tartlet?” he demanded.

  Her face paled, and her blue eyes flitted to the door on the other side of the room before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You put something in Miss Patience’s apple tartlet. I want to know what it was.”

  “Margery was the one who baked the tartlets. I suggest you go ask her,” she said.

  “We still have unfinished business to discuss.”

  “You should concentrate on Miss Patience,” Anne said. “Just like fair Eve in Paradise Lost, she is the one searching for knowledge. Not I.”

  Teach was surprised that Anne knew the details of the poem, but he kept his features guarded. “Are you saying you’re above temptation?”

  Relief washed over Anne’s face when she saw something over Teach’s shoulder. “I’m saying I don’t have to partake of the fruit to understand the difference between good and evil.”

  Teach glanced at the room behind him, annoyed when he saw who it was. The scowl on Patience’s face no doubt matched his. “This isn’t finished between you and me,” he whispered through clenched teeth.

  As if emboldened by Patience’s presence, Anne scooted beneath his arm and backed out through the door, her eyes flashing defiance. “In that case I’ll be sure to keep my pail handy.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Teach

  The sun was warm overhead. Too warm, and Teach felt sick to his stomach. He leaned against the rough wood of the gardener’s shed, fingering the large red bloom in his hand. He’d never cared much for roses but knew Patience liked them.

  He moved impatiently from one foot to the other, wishing he’d chosen a different spot t
o rendezvous with his fiancée. The rose garden had been her idea. Not very original, but after two hours of interruptions by both Drummond and Lady Hervey, he was willing to go just about anywhere to get some time alone with her.

  Twirling the flower in his hands, he wrinkled his nose at the scent. It was heavy and cloying, so very different from his mother’s favorite blossom. He remembered how she used to decorate the house with delicate snowdrops, their light perfume filling the rooms. When they bloomed, it was like a blanket of white, signaling the arrival of spring.

  After her death five years ago from a prolonged illness, his father had ripped up that section of the estate, letting the entire staff go. For several months Drummond had lived in seclusion, allowing the house and grounds to deteriorate. Teach had been off at school at Eton but had come home and managed to talk his father into rehiring the gardener and acquiring new staff. He’d pointed out that his mother would have been appalled at the estate’s condition, and it hadn’t taken long for the neglect to be repaired.

  Now there were stone figures standing as sentinels throughout the gardens, much like the stone wall around Drummond’s heart.

  At length Teach heard Patience’s voice, and he straightened, anticipation coursing through his veins. It had been too long since their last tryst. Although he didn’t feel well, he was sure Patience could renew his spirits.

  As long as she didn’t say much.

  Except she wasn’t alone. Walking beside her was a young girl, her ear held in a painful grip by a tight-lipped Patience. “Where is he?” Patience demanded.

  “I told you, my grandfather isn’t here,” the girl wailed, leaning her head to the side in an effort to lessen the pain.

  Teach took a step forward. “What’s going on?” he asked, uncomfortable at the sight of Patience using unnecessary force. The girl’s ear was bright red, and she had tears in her eyes. “What’s your name?”