Anne reached into her pocket, pulled out a small note, and handed it to him. “Your friend, the Earl of Lorimar, is not without fault in the matter, sir. See for yourself.”
“William? You must be mistaken.”
Anne scoffed, obviously not surprised Teach would come to his friend’s defense. “Yes, William. He has clearly taken advantage of the fact that Mary, as a dependent in your household, has nowhere else to turn. He would compromise her position for his own enjoyment,” she said.
Teach’s eyebrows drew together as he read the note.
My darling,
I can scarce tell you how I felt when I first saw you in this house. I could almost not eat, for my stomach was truly in knots. You cannot imagine the depth of my emotions, and I myself am unable to fully convey to you how strongly I have come to feel for you.
Please tell me you feel the same.
Forever your loving,
William
Teach’s own stomach was in knots, but for entirely different reasons. What a pile of rubbish. How many times had he told William to stop with this nonsense?
“Where did you find this?” he asked Anne.
“I found it while I was cleaning out the fireplace in the earl’s room.”
“And have you asked Mary about this?”
Anne nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “Yes, sir. Just before you called me in, sir.”
So that was what the two of them had been bickering about. “And what did she have to say?”
“She insisted the note wasn’t meant for her, claiming she cannot read.”
Not many maids could read, but there were ways around it, especially if she was trying to impress an interested lover. “But you mean to tell me this note was intended for Mary?” Teach said at length. Teach had noticed Mary making eyes at William during the meal.
Anne nodded.
“Then she’s even worse than I thought.”
Anne blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Teach closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I caught Mary kissing Tom when I returned from my early morning ride the other day.”
“Again?” Anne asked, before clamping her hands over her mouth.
Teach snorted. “So this isn’t the first time it’s happened. Well, William hardly acted the jealous lover, even if the note was meant for her.” In fact, William had appeared quite amused, and Teach had been forced to drag him away.
Anne’s face burned with her embarrassment.
Teach did not bother to mask his impatience. “If it wasn’t Mary, then I have no idea who the intended recipient was. Perhaps he meant for you to find it.”
Anne grimaced.
Ever observant, Teach frowned. “You do not like William?”
Anne shot him a look, as if cursing his watchful eyes. “It’s not my place to either like or dislike your frie—”
“Oh, stop this nonsense,” he said. “If I ask you a simple question, I expect an honest answer. Do you or do you not like the Earl of Lorimar?” he asked. He wasn’t always this ill-tempered. There was something about this girl that touched on his nerves. She was unlike anyone else he’d ever met.
“I fail to understand how my opinion matters, sir.”
“Well, for some reason it matters to me. Answer the question. Please.”
She studied the floor, as if she wished for the flowers in the carpet to swallow her whole. “My father always told me, the enemy is dangerous who wears the mask of a friend.”
“Are you saying William wears a mask? That he is not my true friend?”
“I would not seek out his companionship, sir,” she said at length.
Teach was quiet. He was pleased by her confession, although he did not know why. William was one of his closest friends, was he not? As far as he knew, there’d never been any competition between the two of them. At school Teach had often laughed at William’s antics, for William provided a nice foil for Teach’s more serious nature.
William always joked and said Teach had what William wanted most: good looks, a sharp intellect, and the ability to command respect.
Teach argued back and said that William had what Drummond wanted most: a lofty title, a larger estate, and a life without labor.
Anne broke the silence. “You do not look well, sir.”
His lips twitched. “I did not ask how I looked.”
“I meant no offense, sir. I simply said it out of concern for your health.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re concerned about me, are you?”
“Naturally. As the master of the house—”
“Ah, but you said yourself I’m not the master.”
Anne made a small movement. Teach could imagine her stomping her small foot in frustration.
“Now you’re twisting my words,” she muttered.
He relaxed against the pillows, a chuckle escaping him. He was actually enjoying himself. “What else would you tell me, Anne? What else about my appearance bothers you? Are my eyes too close? Is my mouth too large?”
“At the moment, yes,” she said.
His laughter dissolved into a coughing fit, and his face flamed.
Anne stepped around the foot of the bed, to be of some assistance, but he waved her away. When he stopped, he leaned back, wheezing. Anne remained resolutely near his side. “I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no. You were quite right. I said I wished you to be honest. I should never demand honesty if I’m not prepared to hear it.”
The fact that he had admitted defeat was telling. If he hadn’t been so sick, Teach would not have given in so quickly.
Picking up the book from the table, Anne motioned to his soup. “If you like, I will continue to read for you. But only if you promise to eat,” she said.
Teach bowed his head, much like he had when he’d been little and his mother had told him to finish his meal. “Very well. I will eat my soup. But only if you promise to always tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Agreed,” Anne said.
Teach smiled, pleased with himself.
Anne sat down in the armchair beside his bed and opened the book once more.
CHAPTER 10
Anne
For the next five days Anne divided her time between the kitchen and Teach’s room. Whenever she passed the housekeeper, Margery’s mouth turned down and she sniffed her displeasure. Sara and Mary were beside themselves, wondering why Anne was able to get out of so many chores while the two of them had to compensate for her alleged inactivity.
Anne would have disagreed. If anything, the three of them left her more than her fair share of work. She went to bed even later than usual to make up for the amount of time spent reading to the young master, and was up before dawn to head to the market and start the proceedings all over again.
While she was tired and overworked, Anne hadn’t been this happy since she’d entered Master Drummond’s service. Teach still burned with fever, although his face had regained most of its color and he wasn’t as weak as he’d been on the first day.
Anne brought him broth and continued to wipe his brow, doing her best to nurse him back to health. Master Drummond had sent word that Teach was to travel to the Hervey estate as soon as he was well enough, for Miss Patience was eager to see him again. Anne told herself she was simply facilitating their reunion.
For his part, Teach was quite the model patient. He ate when she told him to eat, and slept when she told him to sleep. And he did not make any untoward advances, appearing to enjoy Anne’s company. She believed he looked forward to the reading almost as much as she did. She grew accustomed to his attentive eyes, surprised that he didn’t disturb her as much as he had when they’d first met. She was far too engrossed in the story.
Dampier’s attention to detail was inspiring,
providing a tempting glimpse of the riches and adventures to be found beyond the shores of England. Much of what he described resembled the stories her mother had told her.
When Anne read that Will, one of the Miskito Indians accompanying Dampier on his voyages, was accidentally left behind on a remote island, she was surprised by the depth of her despair. In a way she felt a certain kinship to the young man, for despite the many people surrounding her, she too knew what it felt like to be left alone.
Three years later, when Dampier returned to the island, he was astonished to see that Will was still alive. He’d waited to greet them and had killed and dressed three goats with cabbage leaves for the shore-going party.
Tears ran down Anne’s cheeks unchecked, and with the edge of her apron, she wiped her eyes. Embarrassed by her show of emotion, Anne cleared her throat but was unable to continue.
Her mother had been taken from her own people but never given the chance to return. Although Jacqueline’s life in England had been better than the punishing work she’d performed as a slave in the West Indies, she had still left a part of herself behind.
If everything worked out, Anne hoped to make the journey back to the island in her mother’s stead.
Teach watched her, his gaze soft, but he didn’t speak. The light from the candles created muted shadows in the room. It was late in the evening.
“I should stop here,” Anne said, closing the book reluctantly.
“Please don’t,” he said.
She managed a tremulous smile. “I think it’s a good note to end on. I’m not sure I could handle any more heartache.”
Teach returned her smile. “Ah, but it turned out all right in the end, didn’t it? The Miskitos are a hearty bunch.”
“They sound very brave. And strong.”
He continued to watch her. “I could easily picture you as a Miskito princess, dressed in animal skins from head to toe.”
Anne’s face flooded with warmth, and she stood, disconcerted by the light in his eyes and the boldness of his words. Perhaps she should remind him of his father’s rules. In the past few days they’d built up a rapport between them. He teased her openly, and while she wasn’t as comfortable teasing him back, there was an undeniable connection between the two of them.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she said, placing the book on the bedside table.
“Why not?” Teach asked.
“Because I am not a princess.” She picked up the supper tray, preparing to leave.
He grinned, unabashed, clutching his hand to his chest. “Oh, forgive me. You’re quite right. You’re not a princess.”
Anne shook her head at him, trying to suppress a smile.
“You’re a queen. From now on I shall refer to you as Queen Anne,” he said, giving her a mock bow, made even more ridiculous because he still lay in his bed.
“Good night, sir,” she said pointedly.
Even from across the room he pinned her to the spot with his gaze. “You’ll come back again tomorrow, won’t you?”
“I’ll do my best,” she said, ignoring the tingle of anticipation that skittered down her spine.
“Until then, Queen Anne.”
Down the hallway she ran into Margery, a basketful of sheets and linens in her arms. Margery glared when she saw the smile on Anne’s face.
“Here,” the housekeeper said, thrusting her load toward Anne. “I was just bringing these to you. You may go and make up the beds and also return some of the master’s clothes to him.”
“Now?” It was a quarter past nine in the evening. Anne’s limbs felt as if they were made of lead, and she could think of nothing besides the comfort of her own mattress.
“Yes, now. Have something better to do, do you?”
Anne shook her head. “No, it’s simply so late. Surely the beds could be made tomorrow morning.”
She did not see the back of Margery’s hand until it connected with her cheek, the force of the blow causing Anne’s eyes to water. Nearly dropping the tray, Anne staggered backward as a cup fell to the floor. It shattered at her feet.
Margery shook with rage, the basket resting on her hip.
“Don’t talk back to me, girl,” she hissed. “I’m still in charge around here, despite what you think.”
The door to Teach’s chambers flew open, and he stood there, his nightshirt stuffed into a pair of breeches, his feet bare. “Is everything all right?” he asked, holding a candlestick aloft.
Anne bent quickly and picked up the broken porcelain, her back to him, the skin below her left eye stinging.
“Fine, sir. The clumsy girl simply dropped a cup,” Margery said.
“What do you have there?” he asked her.
“Sheets and linens, sir. As well as some of your shirts an’ breeches. I was just about to bring them to you.”
“Surely that could wait until morning,” he said.
At last Anne stood, but she kept her face averted. She felt rather than saw the ominous look Margery shot in her direction.
“Aye, it could, sir, but with Anne being gone so much these days, there’s simply no time to rest if we want to get everything done.”
The old witch made it sound as if she and the others were overworked. Without the master in the house and with Teach still sick, the cooking had been kept to a minimum. And Margery had both Sara and Mary to help her with the cleaning.
“Yes, well, why don’t you take that tray from her, Margery, and return to the kitchen. Retire for the evening. I’m sure the beds can wait until morning.”
“Why, thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate it,” Margery said smugly.
It was all Anne could do to keep a civil tongue in her head as Margery smiled, an evil glint in her eyes. They exchanged loads, and Margery strolled down the hallway, toward the back stairs, humming a tune the entire time.
“Bring me my clothing,” Teach said, holding out his hands.
Anne’s chest tightened as she approached him, and she angled her face, careful to keep it in the shadows. But like a Miskito Indian, the young master was far too observant. He sucked in a deep breath when he saw her. Taking her chin in his hand, he brought the candlestick closer.
“She did this to you,” he said, his eyes flashing. Taking Anne by the hand, he led her back into his room. She sat down in the now familiar armchair as he wet a cloth and dipped it into water, before holding it up to her burning skin.
Anne flinched.
He cursed beneath his breath, and a pulse beat at his temple. “I’ll speak to her. I’ll tell her that if she ever lifts a hand to you again, I’ll—”
“You’ll do what?” Anne asked, unable to keep her silence any longer. “Send her packing? Try to replace her with someone else? Who’s to say the next person you hire will be any better?” Anne shook her head, pushing his hand away. “If you say anything to her, it will only make matters worse.”
“This is my fault,” he said, frowning.
“How? You could not help getting sick. You were too weak to—” Anne began, but just then she spied something unusual over his shoulder. In his haste to get up, he’d thrown the coverlet back. At the foot of his bed were two large stones, round and smooth. The sheets were marred with ash. Anne pushed Teach aside and felt one of them. It was still warm to the touch.
Turning on him, her eyes wide with shock, she pointed an accusing finger. “You lied about your fever?”
He straightened slowly, his expression masked. “Not initially. That first day you came to me, I was extremely sick. You saw that.”
“Yes, but by the fourth day some of your color had returned.”
He nodded.
“Were you still sick?” she asked.
He had the decency to flush. “I was truly ill in the beginning, but I might have nursed it along a bit.”
“Why would y
ou do that?”
“Because I needed an excuse to speak with you,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her heart skipped a beat. “About what, sir?”
“About anything. Everything. I enjoy conversing with you. Don’t look at me like that. Is my request so distasteful that you’d choose to return to your chores rather than spend another minute in my company?”
Eight days ago she might have said yes. Now she wasn’t so sure. “If I don’t do my chores, no one else will, sir.”
He waved his hand. “Margery can do them.”
Anne nearly laughed out loud, pointing to the inflamed side of her face. “Yes, we’ve seen how much she enjoys that. Margery is the housekeeper. I’m simply the maid. I would never ask her to fulfill my duties.”
“You said it yourself the other day, you’re not a common maid, now, are you?”
Anne remained silent, for she did not know how to respond. She wasn’t sure what she was most upset about—the fact that he’d prolonged his “illness” and she’d incurred the wrath of Margery as a result, or the fact that she’d enjoyed herself in his company and would most likely do it again if given the choice, despite the fact that he was to wed another.
Alarmed and confused, Anne prepared to flee, but Teach reached out and caught her hand, his thumb smoothing the skin. The movement stole the breath from her lungs.
“This has to stop. You can’t keep running away from me, Anne. I mean you no harm. Truly I don’t. I’ve never met anyone like you before. You . . . intrigue me.”
Anne withdrew from his touch. “You’ve just spent a year at sea, encountering untold dangers, and you find me interesting? I’ve never been anywhere. I’ve never seen anything.” She might have been inexperienced, but she wasn’t so naïve as to believe him.
“And that is precisely what is so fascinating. When you read, your face lights up. Those pages come to life for you, just as they do for me,” Teach said. “Whether you are aware of it or not, you and I are alike, Anne. We feel things differently than others.”
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