Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(38)

“You have no proof.”

“Oh, but I do. I returned the coins to their rightful owners.

The men you cheated were quite interested to know about your

deck of cards. You might want to avoid the docks for a time. I

believe some of your friends might be looking for you.”

While Henry sputtered to find the right words, Teach strode

toward the door and pulled it open. If Henry didn’t leave, Teach could not guarantee his safety. “Good-bye, Henry.”

Henry sniffed, puffing out his chest like a peacock. He

crossed the floor with less assured steps, and then paused on the step outside the door. “I want my money. I’ll make you pay—”

The only response was the slamming of the door and Teach’s

colorful expletive. It was a good thing he didn’t have his cutlass with him. He wouldn’t have hesitated in cutting the oaf down.

Teach strode toward the back of the house to find Anne.

For some reason, seeing Henry Barrett had clearly unnerved

her, and he meant to get to the bottom of it. He found her

leaning against the wall around the corner from the entryway,

her eyes closed. She’d listened to the entire conversation.

“Anne. Are you all right?”





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She took a steadying breath. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine, sir. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he said, searching her expression. “He upset you,

didn’t he?”

“He is rather unpleasant,” she replied, straightening from

the wall and heading toward the kitchen.

Teach walked alongside her. “I’ve known him for several

years now. ‘Repulsive’ would be a more apt description.” Tilting his head, he gave her a hard look. “What did he mean when he said he could make your life difficult? Did you work for him

before?” The thought turned his stomach.

“What did he mean he saw you last night? When you left,

did you go to the tavern as he claimed?”

Teach’s lips twitched, and he leaned against the kitchen

table. “I thought I heard you following me.” He watched as

she sliced into a loaf of fresh bread. Her posture let him know

she wished he would leave. “All right, Anne, don’t answer my

question, but we both know the truth. At some point you must

have worked in Barrett’s household.”

“It’s a story I’m not ready to tell,” she said.

“Did he hurt you?” I’ll kill him.

“The past no longer matters.”

“It does if he caused you harm.”

Anne put the knife down and looked him in the eyes. “I do

not wish to discuss Henry Barrett with you.”

“Well, whether you wish to discuss him or not, this was not





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the first time you’ve seen him. And unfortunately, knowing him as I do, it might not be the last.” Anne’s face showed her dismay.

Teach was quick to reassure her. “Don’t worry. If I give him his money, he won’t have any reason to come back.”

“I thought you said you’d returned it.”

“I lied.”

A slight smile played on Anne’s lips as she resumed cutting

the bread, and warmth spread throughout Teach’s limbs, knowing he was responsible for it.

“You’re impossible,” Anne muttered.

“I’m a Drummond.”

“Oh yes, I’m quite aware of that fact.”

“You do realize this is just one more thing you and I have

in common.”

Anne shot him a curious look. “What is?”

“Our dislike of Henry Barrett.”

“I don’t think many people like him.”

“True,” Teach said. “Which is a shame. His father, Andrew

Barrett, was a good man and one of my father’s closest friends.

Before my mother died, they did quite a bit of business together.

They kept in touch off and on in the years since. When I left

England a year ago, it was on one of Barrett’s merchant ships.”

The knife stopped moving. “You sailed on one of Andrew

Barrett’s ships?”

“Yes, although not many people knew about it.”

“Why didn’t you sail on one of your father’s ships?”





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Teach looked down at his boots. “Because I didn’t want to be treated differently. If they’d known I was the owner’s son, the experience wouldn’t have been the same. I wanted to make

my own path. On Barrett’s ship I went by the name of Edward

Teach. I arranged it with him, shortly before he died. Only my

good friend John knew who I was.” On board the Deliverance, Teach might continue with that tradition. It was why he was so comfortable here in the back of the house, talking to a member

of his kitchen staff as if it were nothing.

Teach tried to picture Henry Barrett setting off to sea, performing menial jobs such as swabbing the deck and raising a