Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(48)

Teach wished he’d chosen to stay in bed this morning instead

of rising. Despite his enjoyable afternoon with Anne, it had

already been a grueling day, and it was not over yet.

After ripping open the delicate paper, he scanned the contents.

I know you have recovered, and would like you to come

to the Hervey estate at once. I have sent a carriage to

collect you. Until this evening. Richard Drummond





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Teach was not surprised by his father’s words. Of course his father would know he’d recovered. Teach was actually surprised it had taken him this long to send for him. His father never

had been one to favor sentiment over practicality. There was

nothing in the letter about wishing to spend more time with

his wayward son.

No, his father needed him to come and secure the betrothal

with the Herveys.

Truly this day could not get any worse.

Looking down, he discovered Anne had already moved and

was headed up the stairs at a fast pace.

“Anne!” he called out.

She cringed, stopping where she was, and turned slowly.

He took the stairs two at a time, and came to a halt at her

side. “What Margery said . . . pay her no heed. I will have my

father dismiss her immediately.”

Anne met his eyes, her gaze firm. “I was not born in the

gutter like she says. Nor was I raised to work in someone’s

household. I do not know what my father wished for me, but I

do not believe it was this.”

Teach chose his words with care, not wanting to upset her

further. “I’m sure he wanted you to be happy, whatever you

chose.”

“He always told me he loved me, and said he would take

care of me,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I’m sure he did, in his own way, but now that he’s gone—”





17 0


Drawing a deep breath, Anne squared her shoulders. “My father was Andrew Barrett. My mother was his cook, Jacqueline.

He brought her back with him from one of his trips to the West

Indies. I did not work for Henry Barrett. We grew up in the same household together. He’s my half brother.”

Stunned, Teach leaned against the banister, his mouth

open, but no words escaped. A thousand questions fought for

supremacy, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

Anne stood before him, her hands clenched, and looking

every inch the sixteen-year-old girl that she was.

“Why didn’t you mention it before?” he managed to ask.

“What difference would it have made? My father kept my

identity a secret. Why, I do not know, but I had no wish to

dishonor his memory. Henry knows exactly who I am, and yet

he kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known. Why would

I think a houseful of strangers would treat me any differently?”

“But surely if my father had known . . . Andrew Barrett was

one of his closest friends.”

“What makes you think I would be eager to share my story

with someone residing under this roof? You said yourself, after

your mother’s death their contact was infrequent. Growing

up, I heard the name Drummond once or twice in my father’s

home, but I never dined with guests. My parents were rarely

seen together, and when I spent time with my father, he never

spoke of business acquaintances.”

“I still can’t believe my father didn’t know.”

171

“When Henry brought me here, he told me to keep my mouth shut and not to cause any problems, or else he would return me to the workhouse where he’d found me a few weeks after my mother passed. As I did not wish to return to that lifestyle, I did as he said.”

Teach’s stomach heaved at the thought of Anne spending

time in one of those filthy workhouses. “But surely you could

have found a different position elsewhere.”

“Doing what? I have no references. It took my mother

weeks to find a job as a cook.”

“I’ll speak with my father. Come with me. Now. We’ll go

and tell him who you are.”

Anne retreated up one step, shaking her head. “No. I will

not go with you to the Hervey estate.”

“You must. I’ll find you a room somewhere at an inn. You

can stay there until I speak with my father—”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have no desire to see Miss Patience again.”

Teach sucked in a quick breath. “So you wish to stay here

with Margery?”

“I prefer to stay here rather than go to a strange inn and sit

in a strange room all day. Or all night. At least here I can go to the city. I can get out.”

“You can do that there. There’s a small village—”

“And I will be more out of place there than I am here. I will

not go with you.”





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Once again Teach was at a loss for words. They stared at each other for several seconds.