Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(83)

“Why is that?” one man asked.

“With the war over, think of the soldiers and sailors who

will no longer be employed. What will they do now that they

are no longer fighting for a united cause? You cannot tell me

they will be content to return to the fields or attempt to learn a new trade.”

“What do you think they will do, Edward?”

“They will take to the seas, doing what they do best,”

Teach said.

“Do you mean they’ll become privateers?”

Teach looked at each man carefully. “Either that—or

pirates.”





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“Are you concerned about your father’s new ship? Once the Deliverance sets sail, every pirate on the seas will be after it.”

Anne broke away from the group as their discussion continued, keeping to the side of the room so as to avoid the dance floor. A manservant walked by, and she accepted the goblet he offered, savoring her first taste of champagne as she observed the small clusters of landed gentry and wealthy merchants, each intent on their own conversations.

A few men attempted to approach her, but Anne quickly

learned that if she turned away, pretending interest in a nearby group, they lost their nerve and left her in peace. Her father had taught her many things, but how to dance was not one of them.

The last thing she wanted was to embarrass the Drummonds.

One set of French doors was opened to the balcony, allowing

the brisk October air to blow through the crowded hall. Anne

slid outside and found an unoccupied bench hidden behind a

potted plant. Closing her eyes, she ignored the muted voices

coming from the interior of the house, wondering if it was too early in the evening to return to the Drummond household.

The moon overhead was full, giving light to the manicured

gardens and casting long shadows across the lawn.

Anne watched the graceful figures dancing inside, their

movements smooth and flowing. She wished she could join in

the festivities, but knew she would stand out like the interloper she was.





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“Your Majesty,” a familiar voice muttered into her ear.

Anne jumped up, nearly dropping the goblet in her hand,

and glanced over her shoulder. Teach stood beside her, a sly grin on his face.

“Why do you insist on frightening me?” she demanded,

irritated at his smirk.

“Why do you insist on being alone?” he countered, folding

his arms across his chest. “Do you not know a solitary woman

wandering through the garden unaccompanied will quickly

develop a reputation?”

Anne blushed at her own ignorance. “No one was concerned for my welfare when I was a maid and walked to the

market alone.”

Her words found their mark, and Teach winced.

“Besides, it was too crowded in there,” she said.

He glanced behind them before raising his eyebrows at her.

“What did you expect at a ball?”

Anne smoothed her gown, her fingers reaching automat—

ically for the gold watch in her pocket. She’d had a pocket

sewn into every dress. “I certainly would never have agreed

to come if I’d known it would be like this,” she said. “I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you do. There are visitors inside from around

the world.”

“You don’t understand. You grew up this way. I did not.”





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“You forget, I’m just the son of a merchant.”

“Yes, who is invited to balls hosted by a duke.”

Teach made an impatient sound in his throat. “I would

much rather spend my time with you than with any of them.

Come back inside with me.”

“I don’t know how to dance,” she said.

“I’ll teach you.”

She glared at him. “Do you wish to make a fool of me?”

“No, I simply wish to dance with you. Nothing more.

Nothing less. Just a simple dance.”

Looking down, she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just . . . I . . .” Her voice trailed off, finding it difficult to put her feelings into words. No matter where she went, she felt out of sorts.

She was unable to prevent the tears shimmering in her blue

eyes, and Teach muttered something under his breath. “Why

are you always so sad?” he asked.

Noting the tenderness in his features, it was difficult to

speak around the lump in her throat. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. When we are married, I shall make you smile,

every day for the rest of your life.”

She pulled away, wiping her damp cheeks. “Do not speak

of such things.”

“Why not? I only speak the truth.”

“Yes, but I asked you not to.”

He gazed at her from head to toe. “No, you asked me not





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to kiss you. Can I help it if I want to tell the world how I feel about you? You’re my queen.”