Blackhearts

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Blackhearts Page 13

by Nicole Castroman


  Anne waited as he placed the chairs once more inside the cottage. He led the way through the trees, and they found their horses exactly as they had left them. Lifting her back up into her saddle, he allowed his fingers to linger slightly longer than necessary on her waist. She glanced at him sharply, but Teach pretended not to notice.

  He did not truly desire to return to the house, but knew it would not do to remain any longer in the woods.

  They rode back in relative silence. Teach was tired. Perhaps it was a lingering effect from his illness.

  As the house drew nearer, he felt the familiar bands of tightness settling around his heart. Anne’s own face mirrored his, for her eyes were no longer shining, and her cheeks were no longer flushed.

  At the weeping willows on the outside of his father’s property, Anne stopped and dismounted. “Just in case the others have returned, I do not think it’s wise for them to see us arriving together. I will return the riding habit as soon as possible.”

  “You may keep the garments. My only concern is if they see you in them. They’ll know we were together.” He realized too late that he hadn’t thought things through.

  Anne bit her lip. “Perhaps if you went in first, you could arrange some kind of distraction? I could slip in through the kitchen and head upstairs to change.”

  If she entered through the back way, there would be too many opportunities for her to be discovered. Teach shook his head. “No, I will go in first and return the horses to the stables. You go through the front door and enter your quarters from the other side of the house. They’ll be less likely to see you.” He paused. “Unless they’ve already determined that you aren’t in your room.”

  “No, they aren’t so concerned for my welfare that they would go and inquire after me.” Striding away, she disappeared around the corner of the wall.

  Teach led the horses in through the garden, searching for movement near the back of the house. There was no sign of the groom as Teach entered the barn and unsaddled the horses, giving them a cursory brushing before heading for the kitchen door. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He’d sent Anne to the front of the house, and he was stealing in through the back.

  Passing through the kitchen, he was on his way to the stairs when he first heard the shouting. It was Margery. Even from his vantage point down the hall, it was clear she was angry.

  “Don’t lie to me, girl!” Her words were followed by the distinct sound of a slap.

  Teach rounded the corner, just as Margery raised her arm again. Anne reached out and caught Margery around the wrist, clearly unwilling to yield to yet another strike.

  “Stop!” Teach thundered, his voice exploding throughout the entryway.

  Both Margery and Anne turned to see him barreling toward them, his face contorted with rage. “If you strike her again, I will have you removed from this household. You will not find another position for as long as you shall live!”

  Anne released Margery’s suddenly limp arm.

  Margery’s mouth dropped open, the anger in her eyes dying like a flame dipped in water. “But, but . . . sir, I caught her sneaking into the house, dressed like that!” She pointed to Anne, still clothed in the riding habit.

  Teach studied Anne’s appearance from head to toe, looking for any more signs of ill treatment, but thankfully could see none. Rounding once more on the old woman, he leaned forward, speaking through clenched teeth. “It’s a riding habit.”

  Margery blinked. “Yes . . . yes, I know, sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “Is that a crime?”

  The housekeeper flushed beneath the obvious scorn in his voice. “No. Yes. She’s . . . How did she get it?”

  An answering fire flared in Anne’s eyes. “I told you, it was a gift.”

  “Where have you been, dressed like that?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Anne snapped.

  Margery straightened. “As housekeeper, it’s my business to know exactly what is going on—”

  Teach waved his hand impatiently. “She already said it was a gift.”

  “Yes, but you told me several things have gone missing, and—”

  “You will not say another word,” Teach growled. He’d given her specific instructions to keep silent about the stealing, but Margery was too upset to notice.

  “If anyone’s taken anything from your father, it would be that one. She’s the by-blow of some foreign gutter wench and a sailor, no doubt raised on the streets.” Margery turned on Anne once more. “And to think I trusted you. You can’t even follow directions proper like. I ran into the butcher while I was in town. He said you haven’t been to buy meat from him since the young master returned.”

  Anne jumped forward. “Because he wanted more payment than I was prepared to give! If you want his wares so badly, then I suggest you lie with him!”

  Margery dove for Anne’s face, her arms outstretched and her teeth bared. Teach was able to scoop Anne out of the way as she scrambled to get hold of Margery’s sleeves, the two of them clawing like cats.

  A pounding at the front door brought the argument to a halt. Teach, for one, was grateful for the reprieve.

  Holding on to Anne’s arm, he practically dragged her with him, keeping a stern eye on the housekeeper. “Margery, you will pack your bags at once,” Teach said.

  “But who will run your father’s house in the meantime? Her?” Margery shrieked.

  Teach hadn’t thought of the particulars. He only knew he wanted to keep Margery away from Anne. His jaw was clenched so tight, it ached. “Return to the kitchen. I will discuss your position with my father. Until then, you are not to speak to Anne, do you understand? You are not to go near her.”

  Margery nodded, glaring at Anne before turning on her heel and stalking away, her limp pronounced.

  Anne trembled, whether from anger or nerves, Teach was unsure. She tried to wrest her arm from his grip, but he tightened his hold.

  “I still wish to speak with you,” he muttered.

  “And I wish to change.”

  Teach deposited Anne in a nearby chair. “Do not move.” Wrenching open the front door, he came face-to-face with a small boy standing on the front step. The boy jumped at the look on Teach’s face, and quickly handed him a small note. A handsome carriage was waiting in the drive.

  “What’s this?” Teach snapped.

  “A letter from yer father, sir.”

  Teach reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. The boy pocketed it and scurried away. The black carriage did not move, and the driver remained seated.

  Closing the door with a little more force than necessary, Teach wished he’d chosen to stay in bed this morning instead of rising. Despite his enjoyable afternoon with Anne, it had already been a grueling day, and it was not over yet.

  After ripping open the delicate paper, he scanned the contents.

  I know you have recovered, and would like you to come to the Hervey estate at once. I have sent a carriage to collect you. Until this evening. Richard Drummond

  Teach was not surprised by his father’s words. Of course his father would know he’d recovered. Teach was actually surprised it had taken him this long to send for him. His father never had been one to favor sentiment over practicality. There was nothing in the letter about wishing to spend more time with his wayward son.

  No, his father needed him to come and secure the betrothal with the Herveys.

  Truly this day could not get any worse.

  Looking down, he discovered Anne had already moved and was headed up the stairs at a fast pace.

  “Anne!” he called out.

  She cringed, stopping where she was, and turned slowly.

  He took the stairs two at a time, and came to a halt at her side. “What Margery said . . . pay her no heed. I will have my father dismiss
her immediately.”

  Anne met his eyes, her gaze firm. “I was not born in the gutter like she says. Nor was I raised to work in someone’s household. I do not know what my father wished for me, but I do not believe it was this.”

  Teach chose his words with care, not wanting to upset her further. “I’m sure he wanted you to be happy, whatever you chose.”

  “He always told me he loved me, and said he would take care of me,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  “I’m sure he did, in his own way, but now that he’s gone—”

  Drawing a deep breath, Anne squared her shoulders. “My father was Andrew Barrett. My mother was his cook, Jacqueline. He brought her back with him from one of his trips to the West Indies. I did not work for Henry Barrett. We grew up in the same household together. He’s my half brother.”

  Stunned, Teach leaned against the banister, his mouth open, but no words escaped. A thousand questions fought for supremacy, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

  Anne stood before him, her hands clenched, and looking every inch the sixteen-year-old girl that she was.

  “Why didn’t you mention it before?” he managed to ask.

  “What difference would it have made? My father kept my identity a secret. Why, I do not know, but I had no wish to dishonor his memory. Henry knows exactly who I am, and yet he kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known. Why would I think a houseful of strangers would treat me any differently?”

  “But surely if my father had known . . . Andrew Barrett was one of his closest friends.”

  “What makes you think I would be eager to share my story with someone residing under this roof? You said yourself, after your mother’s death their contact was infrequent. Growing up, I heard the name Drummond once or twice in my father’s home, but I never dined with guests. My parents were rarely seen together, and when I spent time with my father, he never spoke of business acquaintances.”

  “I still can’t believe my father didn’t know.”

  “When Henry brought me here, he told me to keep my mouth shut and not to cause any problems, or else he would return me to the workhouse where he’d found me a few weeks after my mother passed. As I did not wish to return to that lifestyle, I did as he said.”

  Teach’s stomach heaved at the thought of Anne spending time in one of those filthy workhouses. “But surely you could have found a different position elsewhere.”

  “Doing what? I have no references. It took my mother weeks to find a job as a cook.”

  “I’ll speak with my father. Come with me. Now. We’ll go and tell him who you are.”

  Anne retreated up one step, shaking her head. “No. I will not go with you to the Hervey estate.”

  “You must. I’ll find you a room somewhere at an inn. You can stay there until I speak with my father—”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have no desire to see Miss Patience again.”

  Teach sucked in a quick breath. “So you wish to stay here with Margery?”

  “I prefer to stay here rather than go to a strange inn and sit in a strange room all day. Or all night. At least here I can go to the city. I can get out.”

  “You can do that there. There’s a small village—”

  “And I will be more out of place there than I am here. I will not go with you.”

  Once again Teach was at a loss for words. They stared at each other for several seconds.

  “Why are you so stubborn?”

  “Why are you so persistent? I will not accompany you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I wish to change.” Anne turned and headed up the stairs.

  Teach called out after her. “I’ll instruct Margery to leave you alone. You will no longer perform any chores. Stay in your room—”

  Anne shot him a dark look over her shoulder.

  “All right, then simply stay out of Margery’s way. I will tell her who you are and that you are no longer employed as a servant.”

  She froze on the top step, one hand clutching the banister. “Then what am I?” she asked in a voice that was barely audible. “And where do I belong?” Not waiting for an answer, she picked up her skirts and fled.

  Teach watched her go, tempted to force her to accompany him. But deep down he knew she was right. Knowing his father’s temperament as he did, Teach understood that it would be best to confront him alone, and find out how Anne had come to work in the Drummond household.

  Unfortunately for Teach, he wouldn’t reach the Hervey estate until later that evening. He could not summon any enthusiasm at the thought of seeing Miss Patience again.

  Entering his room, he grabbed a small trunk from his wardrobe, and then threw several garments inside. Henry Barrett’s words raced through his mind. “I could make your life very uncomfortable if you’re not careful.”

  By the time Teach left his room, his face had settled into harsh lines. What kind of power did Barrett still hold over Anne? Or had that been an empty threat? Why had Barrett brought her there in the first place? He had to benefit from her position in the Drummond household somehow. Otherwise he would not have bothered taking her from the workhouse. A caring older brother he was not.

  It was obvious that Barrett had lied to Anne, and more than likely he’d lied to Teach’s father as well. Either way, it didn’t matter. Teach would make Barrett pay. Stealing his purse had been just the beginning.

  CHAPTER 16

  Teach

  The crescent moon hanging low in the sky cast just enough light to illuminate the Hervey estate as the carriage pulled up the drive. It was an ornate, rectangular building with ivy winding along the sides like spidery veins, and only a few rooms were lit from within.

  Before when he’d come to visit, Teach had always respected its grandeur and opulence. It had reminded him of an elderly duchess who refused to age. Looking at it now for the first time in more than a year, Teach recognized it for what it was. A grandstanding showpiece with very little substance behind the facade.

  The carriage pulled to a stop, and he jumped out, not waiting for the footman to perform his duty. The front door opened, and an elderly butler held a candle aloft, bowing when he recognized Teach’s face.

  “Good evening, Mr. Edward.”

  Teach nodded. “Abraham. How are you?”

  Abraham’s expression was unreadable as he answered, “Fine, sir. Thank you for asking.”

  The butler had been a fixture in the Hervey household for as long as Teach had known them, and Teach marveled that the old man still retained his dignity in this unconventional atmosphere.

  “Tell me, has my father retired for the evening?” It was half past nine. Master Drummond was notorious for going to bed early. Only Teach knew that once he was in the safety of his room, his father would often read for hours.

  “Yes, sir, as well as Lady Hervey. But Miss Patience and the Earl of Lorimar are still with Lord Hervey in the drawing room. Would you care to join them? Miss Patience heard you arrive and is expecting you.”

  Teach wanted nothing more than to see his father, but knew etiquette required that he make an appearance. “Very well,” he said, unable to hide the resignation in his voice.

  Abraham bowed slightly at the waist and turned, leading Teach down the hall. Opening the door to the drawing room, he announced Teach’s arrival. William and Patience stood up from the divan as Teach strode across the carpet toward them. The baron sat in a large chair near a window, his head tipped back and his mouth open, a pronounced snore sounding through the room. Patience’s face flushed a deep red, and her hands fluttered at her side as Teach drew near.

  “Edward,” she said. “You’ve come.”

  “Miss Patience,” he said, bowing over the hand she offered him.

  William’s eyes were red, and it was clear he’d been drinking. His voice sl
urred as he said, “Glad to see you feeling better, old chap. You gave Miss Patience here quite a scare.”

  Teach shook his head. “It was nothing serious. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join you sooner.”

  “That doesn’t matter, now that you’re here. You missed our fête last night. I tried to tell Mama that we couldn’t possibly have it, with you being so ill, but Lord Lorimar convinced me otherwise. We shall have to have another, now that you’ve arrived.”

  “Lorimar never was one to miss out on a party,” Teach said, using William’s proper title in front of Patience. In fact, ­William appeared to still be celebrating.

  William made a face, heading across the room for a crystal decanter filled with amber-colored liquid. “My parents are hosting one of their own in the near future. You’re both expected to put in an appearance.”

  “Don’t drink everything at once. Leave some for Father,” Patience said over her shoulder. Settling herself once more on the divan, she patted the seat beside her. “Well, now that you’re here, we may begin finalizing our arrangements. We’ve decided which property would be best for us.”

  Teach stiffened at her words and remained standing. “We have?”

  Patience laughed, but it sounded forced. “Of course you have final say, but I’m sure you’ll agree with what your father chose. Now it’s just a matter of deciding the date.”

  “Surely it can wait until tomorrow. Teach has only just arrived,” William said, taking a large sip. He smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Ah, but I’m quite sure that it can’t,” she said. “I’ve waited long enough, and I don’t intend to wait any longer. If you wish, you may retire for the evening, Lord Lorimar. I shall be quite all right now that Edward is here.”

  It grated on Teach’s nerves that she continued to use his name with such familiarity in front of his friends. He hoped she wouldn’t be quite so obvious when others were around. “I’m afraid we shall have to postpone our conversation, Miss Patience, for I am quite tired and wish to retire now as well.”

  The look on her face would have been comical if it hadn’t been so disturbing. A mix between a scowl and a smile as she tried to hide her disappointment. “Tomorrow, then,” she said, exhaling loudly. “Father. Father. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

 

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