Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(47)

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 dis—

tinct 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!”





16 6


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.

167

“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.”





16 8


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,