Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(52)

“How long had it been since you’d last had contact with

Andrew Barrett?”

Drummond was silent, fingering a small frame on the night

table with the painted likeness of his wife. He’d had it commis—

sioned when Teach had been a boy, and Drummond never left

the house without it. It matched the large portrait hanging over 18 3

the fireplace in Drummond’s bedchamber back at the estate.

“A year or two before his death, Andrew sent me a letter

asking me to look after Jacqueline and her daughter should anything happen to him. We hadn’t had much contact for some

time, but I told him I would.”

Teach knew Andrew Barrett was one of the few men his

father had called a friend. The two had been close, or as close as Drummond would allow.

“After his death I received a letter informing me I was the

executor of an account under Jacqueline’s name. I replied to the solicitor, who said he would send word once he learned more.”

“But you didn’t hear anything else?”

“No. When Henry came to the house with that girl, I asked

after Jacqueline. Barrett told me she had decided to return to

the West Indies for a time and had taken her daughter with

her. I remembered Andrew once telling me the name of the

town when Jacqueline had been born, and I sent a letter there,

hoping to learn of their fate, but all to no avail. They’re quite primitive, I believe.”

“So you never heard from Henry Barrett again?” Teach asked.

“No. Perhaps that’s why he came by.”

“No, that’s not the reason. He was looking for something.”

Drummond’s eyebrows drew together. “What was he looking for?”

“Nothing of significance. So Barrett told you that Anne had

worked for him?”





18 4


“Yes, which was why I hired her to help Margery in the kitchen. Since I’d failed to fulfill Andrew’s other wishes, I felt it couldn’t hurt to employ one of his servants. I had just fired my own cook and was on the lookout for a new one.”

“Did Henry say anything else? Anything about Anne’s

background or where she came from?”

Drummond looked up. “Heavens, no. Nor did I ask. The

girl is a servant. All I care about is that she performs her duties satisfactorily. Why the devil are you asking all of these questions?”

“Because Henry lied to you, Father. Anne isn’t a servant.





She happens to be Andrew Barrett’s daughter.”

His father’s face turned red, and his eyes widened with

shock. “Good Lord! That girl is Andrew Barrett’s daughter?” he

asked, clearly stunned.

Teach should have known better. He could accuse his father

of many things, but Drummond would never have employed

the daughter of one of his closest friends. Especially not when he’d been asked to look out for her.

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Drummond asked. Teach

was fairly certain his father had barely spoken a word to many

of his servants, including Anne, and he could not imagine a

sixteen-year-old maid asking to speak with the master of the

house. It simply wasn’t done.

“She doesn’t trust easily. When her father died, Henry Barrett

kicked them out onto the street. I believe they had a hard time of 18 5

it, and no one came to their aid. Anne didn’t think it would make a difference if you knew her true identity.”

“They?”

“Yes, Anne and her mother, Jacqueline.”

Visibly shaken, Drummond sat on the edge of the bed.

“Where is her mother now?” he asked, his voice subdued, as if

he already knew the answer.

“Anne said she passed away. I don’t know how or when, but

it must have been before Henry brought Anne to you.”

Closing his eyes, Drummond leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Oh no. Oh no. I see it now. Good Lord, why

didn’t I see it before? She has his eyes. His eyes,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Teach was surprised at the depth of emotion on his father’s

face. “You couldn’t have known. If Barrett didn’t say anything—” Teach began, but his father wasn’t listening.

“I’ve failed him. He asked me to look after her, after them, and I failed him.”

Teach stepped forward, a surge of sympathy washing over

him. “It’s not your fault. You had no idea. Barrett never said she was his daughter—”

“No, but I should have seen the resemblance. The minute

she entered my house, I should have noticed the similarities.

The cooking, the attention to detail.” His eyes had a distant

look in them. “Anne is just like her mother and is as proud as

her father. And I have failed them all.”





18 6


The room was eerily silent. Teach’s mind filled with visions of what he would do to Henry when he found him. Not just on Anne’s behalf but also on his father’s. And his own.