Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(14)

on his face.

“Teach?” Drummond asked.

William nodded. “That’s what we called Edward at school.





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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 senti—

ments.

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?





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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 attain—

ment 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.





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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





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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