Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(6)

more, grumbling to herself. It took her twelve trips up the many flights of stairs to fill the large brass hip tub in the young sir’s second-story chamber.

By the time she was finished, her back was drenched with

sweat, her face flushed with heat. The last few buckets had been filled with steaming water. Master Drummond insisted they keep a pot of water in the washing kitchen for such purposes.

He was fanatical about cleanliness, as it was next to godliness

in his eyes.

There was still no sign of the young master, and Anne stuck

her arm into the tub, swirling the water to mix the hot with the cold. She was tempted to climb in herself, and laughed out loud at the thought.

A low voice behind her stopped her heart cold. “So, you’ve

changed your mind, have you? Come to talk to me about the

price of the shrimp after all?”

19

C H A P T E R 3

Teach

The girl jumped to her feet, the backs of her legs hitting the

tub. Water sloshed over both sides, soaking her dress and shoes.

No sound escaped her. She simply stared at him, her mouth

gaping like a cod on a hook.

Teach smiled grimly as he closed the door with a firm hand.

His footsteps were measured as he crossed the distance between

them, despite the fact that he walked with a slight limp.

“So, Anne, you thought you got the better of me,” he said softly, enjoying the look of fear on her face. She reminded him of a rabbit caught in a snare. Served her right after what she’d done to him.

Her eyes widened. She was clearly surprised at his familiarity with her name.

“Oh, yes, I already know who you are. Imagine my surprise

when the fishmonger told me you worked in my father’s house.”

Anne’s mouth snapped shut, but she did not move.


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“I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t downstairs when I arrived.” He could not have planned their reunion any better himself.

Anne licked her lips nervously.

“You’re not so confident now that you aren’t armed, are you?”

Her eyes flicked to the bucket near her feet, but Teach

snatched it away before she could wrap her fingers around the

handle. Like a snake about to strike, he blocked her escape. She stumbled to the other side of the tub, using it as a shield. A smile crossed his face, but it lacked mirth.

“How long have you worked here?”

“Five—” Her voice came out as a squeak, and she cleared

her throat. “Five months.”

“I could have you punished for what you did,” he said,

watching her closely.

She nodded. “Yes, you could.”

“After that, I could have you fired.”

“Yes, you could. But I’d rather you didn’t,” she said.

“And why not?” he growled.

She held her breath but said nothing more.

Scowling, he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of

the tub. “By Jupiter, you’re an arrogant maid. How did you ever

land in my father’s house? More important, how in the world

have you managed to stay for so long?” Teach was surprised his

father had employed someone of mixed race. Richard Drummond was not known for his tolerance and open-mindedness.





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Any reply Anne might have had was cut off by some commotion coming from the hallway. It was Master Drummond’s voice, calling out for his son.

“Damnation!” Teach breathed, closing his eyes briefly. His

father had terrible timing.

A hesitant sound brought his head up sharply. Anne had

moved, and his eyes pinned her to the spot. Pointing a finger at her, as if she were a child for him to command, he said, “Stay,”

before striding to the door. He rested his hand a moment on the

knob, feeling like a guilty schoolboy called before the headmaster.

The minute his head was turned, Anne took the opportunity

to slip through the side door that connected to his sitting room.

He listened as she fled into the back hall and down the stairs.

Although Teach would have liked nothing more than to

chase after her and continue their conversation, Master Drummond’s voice demanded his immediate attention. He would deal with Anne later.

Straightening his shoulders, he pulled open the door and

stepped out to meet his father. It had been a little more than

a year since they’d last seen each other, and time had not been

kind. Richard Drummond was still a handsome man, even in his

advanced years, with his square jaw and rugged looks, but there

was no denying the signs of age. New wrinkles spread out from

his eyes, and dark circles smudged his cheeks beneath.

“It’s good to see you, Father,” Teach said, wondering if the

older man would embrace him. A part of him hoped that he





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would. His father had not been down in the courtyard to greet him upon arrival, and Teach had tried to hide his disappointment.

“You need to hurry,” Drummond said. “You’re late, as

usual.”