Blackhearts (4 page)

was useless to lie. “No, you are correct. I went to see the ship.”

“And?” Drummond asked.

“It’s a beautiful vessel and will serve the fleet well,” Teach

said, choosing his words carefully.

It was clearly the correct thing to say. His father’s face

beamed with pride. “They thought a ship that large couldn’t be

built,” he said, his tone arrogant.

Teach nodded. “Yes, even William said—”

2 3

Drummond frowned. “William? You mean the Earl of

Lorimar?”

Too late Teach realized his mistake. He stuttered, regret-

ting his hasty response. “Yes, I—I saw William . . . I mean,

I saw Lorimar briefly.” The world of the English peerage was

confusing, with its many names and customs, and Teach had a

hard time bringing himself to call his former schoolmate by his

proper title. Thankfully, William did not stand on ceremony, at

least not in private. In fact, it was William who had first started calling him “Teach.”

As the only son of the Duke and Duchess of Cardwell, Wil-

liam had been given a courtesy title at birth, the Earl of Lori-

mar. Upon his father’s death, William would then become the

next Duke of Cardwell.

“What was so important that you went to see your friend

first?” Drummond demanded, clearly not pleased.

Teach winced. If it hadn’t been for Anne, he would have

been home sooner. As it was, he’d been so angry at the time

that he’d decided to head to William’s, since the duke’s estate

was closer to the center of town. “He said in a letter that he had something important to tell me.”

“And? What was it?”

“William—I mean Lorimar—was accepted into Cam-

bridge,” Teach said, saying the first thing that came to mind. In truth, he’d not kept up any correspondence with William.

Drummond exhaled loudly. “Yes, I already knew that.

2 4

Surely that could have waited until this afternoon? The earl will be dining with us, after all.”

Teach shrugged. “I was unaware of that until I spoke to

him. And he is on the route home. I’m sorry, Father.”

“Yes, well, so am I. I’m not sure I’ve ordered enough food

to satisfy his hunger.” He gave his son a shrewd look. “Does he

still enjoy his sweets?”

“He looked . . . well,” Teach said, aware of his friend’s ten-

dency to eat anything within sight. “It appears he has his weak-

ness firmly in hand.” “Firm” might have been a bit of a stretch, but William had lost some weight since the last time Teach had

seen him.

Drummond was clearly unconvinced. “I still don’t under-

stand what you hope to gain by his acquaintance. I should have

put a stop to your friendship long ago.”

“Mother liked him well enough,” Teach said.

“Your mother always saw the good in people, whether it

was there or not. If she could see what Lorimar has become, I’m

quite sure she would agree with me. He doesn’t take anything

seriously; he’s lazy and under the misconception that you can

cure the world of its ailments simply by throwing a pastry at it.”

Teach knew his father’s dislike of William had more to do

with William’s father than with William’s affinity for overin-

dulgence.

The Duke of Cardwell had been opposed to the
Deliver-

ance
, claiming its size would give Richard Drummond an unfair 2 5

advantage over the other merchants when it came to com-merce and trade. In the end the duke had lost the argument,

and he’d also lost Drummond’s respect.

Teach decided to keep his mouth shut. He suspected the

only reason his father had invited William was so the earl could relay to the duke how impressive the ship was and what a grand

vessel it had turned out to be.

Drummond pulled out his gold pocket watch to check the

time. “You must shave. Miss Patience and her family will be

here shortly,” he said.

He wished he had more time to prepare for her arrival, but

there was a part of Teach excited to see Patience again. Although she was a baron’s daughter, when the two of them were alone

together, she acted more like a scullery maid, allowing him to

do things no lady of noble breeding should agree to.

But at the moment he was exhausted and wished for noth-

ing more than to soak in the tub and rid himself of weeks of

filth and grime. As much as he loved being at sea, there were

benefits to coming ashore. “Can you not write and ask them to

come tomorrow?”

His father snorted. “They are already on their way and

should be here within the hour. You’ve known about this for

quite some time, Edward. Why do you insist on provoking me?”

“I do not control the skies, Father. You cannot blame me for

weather postponing my return,” he protested.

“I blame you, because you insisted on this foolishness in the

2 6

first place. What did you hope to learn by spending a year at sea? Nothing has changed since you’ve been gone.”

“Everything has changed! When will you realize I am no

longer a boy and start treating me like a man?”

“When you behave like one,” was the cold response.

“How can I behave like one when you’re still making my

decisions for me? It’s time you allowed me to determine my

own fate, Father.” Although Drummond didn’t know it, Teach

planned to be aboard the
Deliverance
when it set sail, with or without his father’s consent.

Drummond drew himself up to his full height, forgetting

that his son had surpassed him long ago. “What nonsense.

The baron and I have discussed this at length, and even Miss

Patience is in agreement. The sooner the two of you are wed,

the better it will be, for everyone involved.” Not waiting on his son’s response, he turned on his heel and strode away.

Left alone in the hallway, Teach watched his father’s back,

resentment boiling within. He should have known it would

be like this. His father had always pushed him to be more

mature than his friends. Perhaps that was why Teach had always

enjoyed William’s company. Although he carried the title of an

earl, William acted every bit like the eighteen-year-old he was, and his father, the duke, did not seem to object.

Richard Drummond did. He claimed he wanted only the

best for his son, and no child of his would work on a merchant

ship. He’d eventually agreed to let Teach try it out for a year, 2 7

thinking it would rid Teach of his “unhealthy obsession” with the sea.

But his father’s plan had backfired.

Teach was more determined than ever to set sail once more.

The boy looked longingly out the window at the swirling gray

sky, wishing for the hundredth time that the storm had post-

poned his return for at least one more day.

2 8

C H A P T E R 4

Anne

Downstairs in the kitchen Anne was having the same thoughts,

but for entirely different reasons. Anne pulled up sharply at the look on Margery’s face, her heart pounding in her chest.

“They’re here! They’re here! The baron and his family are

here. Quick, make sure Sara and Mary have the chambers ready.

No, wait, have you added the shrimp yet? The water is boiling.”

Margery turned in a circle, wringing her hands in her apron, her limp more pronounced than ever. “No, no. First I need you to

check the pheasants. Oh, we should have venison. The master

wanted— Stop! What in the world happened to your dress? You

were supposed to set a bath for the master’s son, not take a dip in it yourself.”

Margery’s mouth continued to run, and Anne had a hard time

concentrating. Anxious, she constantly checked over her shoulder, convinced the young Mr. Edward would come charging after her.

2 9

It took considerable effort on her part to focus on the tasks at hand. Her movements were jerky as she took the birds from

the spit. She nearly dropped them, and burned her thumbs in

the process. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she dunked her seared flesh into a bucket of water near the door.

The chaos surrounding her matched her insides, and it was

all she could do not to run from the house.

He was here. The ragged sailor whom she’d hoped never to

see again had reappeared, to live in this very house.

He was the master’s son.

And he was angry.

How long could she hide from him? How long would it be

before he exacted his revenge?

The next hour was torture, as Anne was forced to listen

to Sara’s and Mary’s constant chatter with a combination of

pity, fear, and disgust. They went on and on about how they

wished they were a baron’s daughter and how they’d heard that

the young master had come downstairs to await dinner, looking

very sharp, and what a fine pair he and Miss Patience would

make, as they were both so handsome.

By the time the platters of food stood ready and waiting,

Anne’s head pounded. Margery had already spoken with the

master about the meal. While he wasn’t pleased, Margery said

he hadn’t said much else, occupied as he was by his houseful of

guests.

Anne was grateful for the distraction they created.

3 0

Five months ago Henry Barrett, her half-brother from her father’s marriage, had brought her to the Drummond household

to work. Given a choice between starvation and employment,

she’d naturally stayed. Henry had said he would make her pay

if he heard she’d caused any problems for Master Drummond.

Hitting the master’s son between the legs with a pail was cer-

tainly problematic.

She wondered how Henry could possibly carry out his

threat. No one knew they were related. Henry’s mother had

died when he was an infant, shortly before Andrew Barrett had

brought Anne’s mother back from one of his trips to the West

Indies. Anne was born two years later. Although Andrew Bar-

rett had provided a roof over Anne’s head and taught her to read and write, he had never openly claimed her as his daughter, and

as a servant, she rarely had need of a surname.

Nevertheless, she didn’t wish to test Henry. She’d often been

the target of Henry’s anger and had spent much of her child-

hood locked in a closet. It was his favorite form of punishment

and one of the reasons Anne enjoyed spending her time out-

doors.

Sara and Mary pushed each other aside, each one trying

to glance into the small looking glass that hung near the back

door and check her appearance. They straightened their caps

and collars, pressing their lips together in the hope that they

would stay red. The two of them would assist Margery with the

serving of the food.

3 1

Mary had a steady beau, a sailor by the name of John, and was soon to be married, though her engagement did not seem

to prevent her from flirting with Tom, Master Drummond’s

groom. More than once Anne had noticed bits of hay stick-

ing out of Mary’s hair, despite the fact that involvement among

staff was strictly forbidden.

The moment Sara and Mary left the kitchen with the first

course, Anne escaped out to the garden to hide the coins she’d

kept from that morning’s trip to the market, her skirts whirling about her ankles. The rest of the chores demanding her attention could wait. She had a favorite place on the other side of the back wall, in a shelter of trees. It was there that she kept a small chest with her growing treasure.

Within the property, the level ground, clipped hedges, and

molded trees all showed the master’s desire to reshape nature to his specifications. But in her little corner, through a low archway, two willow trees grew together, wild and untamed, their

branches hanging down, the leaves forming a curtain behind

which she could hide. Her space was an unoccupied piece of

land that led out of the city, one that very rarely received any traffic.

The chimney tops of the manor were barely visible from

her vantage point. Anne remembered the first time she’d found

the spot, the same day she’d arrived at the house more than five months ago. It had been after supper, and Margery had slapped

her for dropping one of the dishes. Anne had taken off, deter-

3 2

mined to leave that awful house. She’d made it only as far as the two willows, for she’d realized she had nowhere else to go. A girl with no funds, and no family to claim her, she’d been helpless

and at the mercy of Master Drummond.

She had decided she would scrimp and save money, even

steal if she had to, in order to leave this place. Somewhere out there, Anne hoped she had family—people who would accept

her, despite their differences. Although she’d been born and

raised in England, not on one of the far off isles of the West

Indies, that was where she planned to go.

Once the coins were safely tucked away in the chest, Anne

returned it to its hiding place in the trunk of the tree. She hoped to visit the market within the week and sell more of the items

she had stolen. The goblet and two silver spoons she’d sold had

already earned her a tidy sum, but not enough to start her own

life elsewhere.

Anne sat down on a small stump, relieved to be away from

the house. The air surrounding her smelled like freshly cut hay, and a small beetle crawled on the ground. She watched its progress through the blades of grass, until a cry pierced the air.

It was Mary, and her voice was frantic.