Blackhearts (9 page)

William was a most disagreeable fellow.

And he was Teach’s closest friend. Her mother had often

told her that good clothes did not make an evil man more kind,

and in William’s case it was true.

She needed to remember to keep her thoughts to herself.

Ever since Teach had arrived, she’d been far more outspoken

than her position allowed. Her father had enjoyed her outspo-

kenness and had even encouraged her to express herself openly,

but Anne doubted anyone in this household appreciated it.

Teach and his guests would be gone soon. Only two more

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days here at the Drummond estate, and then they would journey to the countryside, to the Herveys’, where Teach could con-

tinue to woo his future bride and his old school chum could

annoy their maids for the next fortnight.

Until they left, she planned to keep a civil tongue, avoid

Miss Patience’s feet, and make sure she was never left alone in

Teach’s company.

Anne had no talent for planning. If she had, she would have

stayed behind in the kitchen later that afternoon instead of

venturing outside the garden walls. The master and his guests

had just returned from a picnic and had gone upstairs to prepare for supper.

She took that moment to steal away, knowing that every-

thing was ready and waiting for the evening meal. Beneath the

shelter of the branches of her favorite tree, she rested against the trunk and closed her eyes. It felt good to get away from the flurry and commotion of the house, if only for a few moments.

She was so exhausted, she could hardly think straight. Despite

having lived here for more than five months, she still considered it a strange house and was constantly stressed and tense. These

short breaks of solitude were what helped keep her going, and

she relished every second she could find.

Her rest was short-lived, for she heard the sound of a horse

and approaching voices.

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“You should not have waited for me, Miss Patience,” a familiar voice called out. “I told you I would return momentarily.”

“But I wanted to have a word with you, Edward. In pri-

vate.” Miss Patience’s voice was breathless.

Anne was not surprised Miss Patience used his Christian

name. It was obvious to all that they admired each other. As

Miss Patience neared, Anne could make out her shape through

the leaves. She was dressed in a handsome gown of deep blue.

The young master sat astride his stallion, still dressed in

his riding clothes. Anne had been under the impression that all

of the occupants of the house were either changing or resting.

Apparently she’d been mistaken.

Teach slid down from the saddle as Miss Patience walked

up to him. “And I told you, now is not the most opportune

time. Perhaps it could wait until later,” he said.

Anne froze. The trunk of the tree no longer seemed an ade-

quate hiding spot for her small money chest. She sent up a silent prayer that neither of them would notice her and that the shade

of the willow branches was sufficient to conceal her presence.

“I don’t understand. It’s almost time for supper. Where did

you go?”

“To retrieve my book,” he said, his voice weary.

“Your book?”

“Yes, my book. I made the mistake of allowing William to

look at it while we were out this afternoon, and he misplaced it.

I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to recover it.”

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Miss Patience laughed, obviously unsure if she’d heard him right. “You were prepared to miss supper because of a silly

book?”

The lines of tension in Teach’s body were visible in the eve-

ning light. He had a faint growth of stubble, and his skin was

sallow.

“I have no appetite,” he said.

Miss Patience took another step forward. “Are you unwell?

Perhaps I can think of a way to make you feel better.” She gave

him a sly look, running her fingers up his arm. “If you’d like, we could stay out here and discuss
Paradise Lost
. William said it’s all about Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Since we were

so rudely interrupted before, we could make this little spot our very own Eden.”

Anne did not imagine the shudder that ran through Teach.

He took Miss Patience’s wrist and removed it from his shoulder.

“I think it would be best if you went back inside. Your mother

would not like you being out here without a chaperone.”

“Do you think I care?” she asked.

“You should. It’s not prudent for you to be in a man’s pres-

ence without an escort.”

Anne rolled her eyes. No one ever worried about
her
safety when she went to the marketplace all by herself. Was it possible she had more freedom than Miss Patience?

“You weren’t concerned about that yesterday afternoon

when you agreed to meet me in the rose garden,” she said.

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“I know. And I apologize for that.”

“What is there to apologize for? Nothing happened,” she said.

It was impossible for Anne to determine if Teach was disap-

pointed or not. He gave no response.

“You used to enjoy our private conversations, Edward.

What has changed?”

Teach ran a hand through his hair. “Being gone for a year

has . . . changed me, as I’m sure it’s changed you. We should

spend some time reacquainting ourselves—”

“What nonsense is this?
Reacquainting
ourselves? You used to enjoy our kisses just as much as I did,” Patience purred, leaning closer, her body pressed against the length of his. “We need to discuss our engagement.”

“I’ve only just returned home. Surely there’s no rush.”

She took a step back, her bottom lip jutting forward. “Not

for you, perhaps. While you’ve been off enjoying your adven-

tures, I’ve been forced to remain at home, searching for some

kind of entertainment. Now that you’re back, I no longer need

any distractions.”

He frowned, a small muscle working in his jaw. “Is that all

I am to you? A distraction?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I care about you. Only

yesterday you were willing to meet me in private. What has

changed? Do you not still find me attractive?”

In answer, Teach’s shoulders hunched forward in a violent

spasm. Anne jumped to her feet, tempted to call out, but there

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was nothing to be done. Teach turned his head too late, spew-ing his portion of the picnic down the front of Miss Patience’s

dress.

Anne’s hands flew to her mouth.

Miss Patience froze, a look of horror spreading across her

face. The only sound to escape her lips was a repeated whimper,

like a sick pup, her bottom lip quivering.

Teach was no help, for he continued to retch by her side.

At least he’d had the decency to turn himself slightly, so that

she was no longer in the line of fire. The damage, however, was

done.

The two stood next to each other, each one caught up in

their own misery. It would have been difficult to decide who

appeared more upset at the moment.

Shaking with suppressed laughter, Anne watched as Miss

Patience eventually turned in the direction of the house, slightly bent at the waist. With mincing steps she disappeared through

the archway back into the gardens, muttering beneath her

breath the entire time.

Only when the young master dropped to his knees was

Anne brought up short. By now, dry heaves racked his body,

but still he did not stop.

Anne vacillated for a second more before sweeping the

branches out of the way and going to him. Until now the stallion had stood quietly by his side, but he whinnied and approached

as Anne bent over his owner.

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Sweat soaked Teach’s brow as well as his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw her.

Reaching forward, Anne grabbed him under the arms and

attempted to help him up, careful to stay out of range. After

hesitating, he threw a heavy arm over her shoulders, leaning on

her as she directed him back to the house. She picked up the

reins, and the stallion followed behind.

Their advancement was slow. He was at least a head taller

than Anne, and she felt like a child next to him. He certainly

resembled an old man at the moment, not the vibrant young

man he was. By the time they reached the stable, the sun was

low in the sky.

The groom rushed out when he saw them, and Anne

stepped to the side. “Here, Tom, take him to his room,” she

said, for she could not have made it up the stairs under Teach’s weight. The two of them disappeared while Anne took the

stallion back to the barn. Once she removed his saddle, she

brushed him down and gave him fresh grain, before returning

to the house.

Mary and Sara rushed by her, each carrying a bucket of

water.

“Mr. Edward is sick,” Mary said over her shoulder.

“Aye, he was sick all over Miss Patience,” Sara said, unable

to hide the smile on her face. “You should have heard her when

she came in. She swears like a sailor when she thinks no one

is near.”

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Margery came back down the stairs just then, carrying a dark blue dress. Even if Anne hadn’t recognized it, the smell

alone would have been enough to tell her it was Miss Patience’s

garment.

Thrusting it into Anne’s arms, Margery said, “Here. Do

what ye can with this. It’s new, and the missus doesn’t want to

throw it away.”

Anne retreated to the washing kitchen, grateful to be out

of the chaos but resentful that she was left to clean up the

mess. Miss Patience was nothing more than a spoiled child,

and Anne was sick of everyone treating the girl as if she were

a queen.

Once the water in the large pot had boiled, Anne removed

it from the fire and dunked the entire dress into it. It would

need to soak for several hours, if not a few days.

The mark was large, the color of burgundy, and despite the

dark shade of the dress, Anne didn’t hold out much hope of

ridding the garment of the stain. Anne had packed their picnic

lunch.

While salt and wine could get out a grease stain, she doubted

that salt and grease would remove a wine stain. From the looks

of it, the young master had had his fair share of the liquid that afternoon.

With a stout stick she stirred the water, lifting the material

out every once in a while to check its progress. It was indeed a beautiful gown, although on closer inspection she saw that the

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material wasn’t as rich as she’d first thought, the workmanship not of the highest quality.

Anne left the wash kitchen for a time to help Margery serve

supper. Neither Teach nor Miss Patience was present during the

evening meal, and the conversation was subdued. Lady Hervey

picked at her food, while Lord Hervey and Master Drummond

shot each other dark looks.

It was left to William to try to lighten the mood.

When Anne returned to the kitchen later in the evening,

after the guests had retired, she removed the dress and held

it up to the candlelight. Just as she’d suspected, the stain was still there, although it had faded somewhat. About to return

it to the water, she noticed that the seam on one of the sleeves had come undone. She yanked at the thread, but instead of

the thread breaking, the material simply continued to unravel.

Glancing over her shoulder, she quickly returned the dress to

the pot, feeling as if she’d been tricked.

The dress might have been new, and Anne could do her

best to return it to its former splendor, but there was no deny-

ing that it was poorly made.

Much like Miss Patience herself.

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C H A P T E R 8

Anne

The carriage drove away the next day in the pouring rain,

the last of the houseguests safely inside it, along with Master

Drummond himself. He was going with the Herveys in an

attempt to smooth things over between the baron’s daughter

and his son. Their estate was a few hours’ ride from the city,

and they planned to discuss in which Hervey property Miss

Patience and Teach would live. Coming from one of the oldest

baronies in the country, the Herveys maintained four separate

properties.

Standing alone in the doorway, Anne stared after them,

wondering what she’d done to deserve such a heinous punish-

ment. She was to tend to Teach until he was well, because he

was too ill to travel with the rest of the party. Lady Hervey and Miss Patience had practically pushed each other out of the way

to exit the house once Teach’s illness had been confirmed.

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Anne was not sorry to see them go and hoped they would not return before she quitted the house for good.

Behind her, Margery clucked like a mother hen, handing

her some tea. “Here you go, Anne. Take this up to Mr. Edward

now. See if his fever is any worse.”

Resigned, she took the tray from Margery’s hands. “I don’t

see why Sara can’t take it up to him,” Anne said. “Now that the

master is gone, she should be free to leave the kitchen.”

Margery shot her a sharp look. “Last night the young mas-

ter requested that you bring the tea up to him in the morning,

not Sara.”

With his father no longer at home, Teach apparently got

what he wanted. Anne was quite sure the Drummond men