Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(92)

“Not if you go willingly. You will leave within the hour.”

“But I can’t—”

Drummond held up a warning finger. “Unless you wish to

go to jail, you can and you will. Margery will help you. She has already gathered your things. I will have your solicitor send part of your inheritance to the White Stag Inn. Once you reach your destination, you may let him know where he may send the rest.”

“But that could take months.”

“You should have thought of that before you stole from me.





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I will allow you to pack all of the dresses I have given you, but nothing more. You will stay at the White Stag near the docks for the next few days. When the Deliverance sets sail, you will be on it. My debt to your father has been paid in full.”

Anne pressed the knuckles of her clenched fist against her

stomach, a fierce pain slashing her heart. “And Teach—” she

said, almost afraid to mention his name.

“You will write Edward a note, telling him you harbor no

genuine feelings for him and that you only used him.”

“But that’s not true!” she cried, her blood turning to ice

water. She didn’t want to believe he could be that cruel.

“Regardless of whether it’s true or not, you will declare it so.”

“He won’t believe it,” she said.

“Yes, he will. Oh, I know he was fond of you, but that was

before he knew you were a thief and a liar. In time he will get over you. As he did Miss Patience.”

Anne flinched at his words, but anger and hurt pride drove

out some of the pain. She’d once accused Teach of the same

thing. Now, of course, she knew better, but there was no way

she could convince Mr. Drummond of Teach’s feelings for her.

“After you are gone, he will go on and marry someone else,

someone who will bring out the best in him.”

“You mean someone with a title.”

“Yes, someone with a title. Someone more suited to him.”

“If you knew him, you would know that he doesn’t want that.”

Drummond snorted. “And you know my son so well?”





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“I do. I know he understands and accepts people, regardless of their circumstances or backgrounds. He’s independent and forthright and appreciates it when others are as well. And the last thing in this world that your son cares about is marrying into the aristocracy.”

He glared at her, his eyes hard. “I admit, I made a mistake

with Miss Patience. Thanks to you, that disaster was averted.

But I believe I know what’s best for him, and that person is

most certainly not you.”

“Have you ever thought to ask your son what he wants?”

Drummond turned from her. “I have hired two gentle—

men to see you to the docks and then safely onto the Deliverance. They will make certain you arrive at your destination and nowhere else. Once you are gone, my son will once again become the boy that I remember.”

Anne shook her head incredulously, wondering at his con—

ceit. “You can’t continue to control his life. At some point you will lose him.”

“On the contrary. When you’re gone, everything will return

to normal. When he saw William attack you, Edward was . . .

wild, half-crazed. I’ve never seen him act like that before. He was clearly not himself. You brought out those primitive responses in him. At the time, I was angry with William as well. I had no idea of the depth of Edward’s feelings for you.”

“And you are obviously opposed to such feelings.”

Master Drummond spun to face her. “Of course! How





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could I be otherwise? Such a union would be impossible.”

“Why is that?” Anne shot back, her voice laced with acid.

“Because of your position in society.”

Anne was beyond caring what she said. In that moment,

she realized there wasn’t anything from the outside that could beat her. If she let it, it would come from within, but not if she fought against it. “My position in society?”

He pulled at his collar but remained silent.

“Despite what you think, I’m not a criminal. I made a mistake, yes, but what makes you think you’re so superior to me?

You’re a merchant, just like my father.”

“Yes, but your mother was a—a . . .” He clearly couldn’t

bring himself to say the word.

“A slave,” Anne said proudly. She would not allow him

to slander her mother. Jacqueline, at least, had done nothing

wrong. “You would blame her for the color of her skin?”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Drummond snapped. Going to

the door, he called for Margery.

Suddenly Anne’s desire to act was like a physical pressure,

pushing from within. The rope that she felt around her neck

when she was under this roof had tightened into a noose.

She raced for the door, but was brought up short by the

appearance of two men. They caught her arms in a painful