Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(93)

grasp. Anne almost wished Mr. Drummond had contacted the

constable. She fought against the men’s hold, but they simply

tightened their grip.





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“After you write the letter to Edward, these men will escort you to the White Stag, where you will stay until you set sail.

Once you reach the West Indies, I’m sure your mother has some

relatives who would take you in. Where you can be with your

own—with people who are your family,” he quickly amended.

“You mean where I can be with people of my own kind.”

“I said ‘family,’” he said, his voice terse.

If Anne had had something to throw, she would have. Pref—

erably at his head. “If I do have any living family, they’re even more of a stranger to me than you are. But I would sooner stay with them than spend another night in this house.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, until Drummond nodded. “Good-bye, Anne. I wish you luck.” With that,

he motioned for the two men to take her. Anne was led out of

the room, her shoulders back and her head held high.





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C H A P T E R 3 3

Teach

Teach stared out the carriage window at the pouring rain and

blackened sky. The ring in his pocket was practically burning a hole through the material. His insides bubbled like a pot boiling over, and he couldn’t wait to give the ring to her. His Anne.

Sweet, strong, beautiful Anne.

Teach’s mother had often told him that good people

brought peace. That was precisely what Anne did for him. Oh,

she could arouse his temper like no other girl ever had, but it was her strength and depth of character that had attracted him to her in the first place.

That and her unmistakable beauty.

Teach’s pulse picked up as he neared his father’s house. The

large, gray exterior no longer filled him with dread. Ever since his mother had died, Teach had felt trapped, unable to do as he chose.





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But now his father could not prevent him from marrying Anne.

The Deliverance would set sail within six days, but he would not be on it. There was no need. He was as happy as

he’d ever been, and nothing was left to stand in the way of his happiness.

He sprang from the carriage and tore up the stairs. Inside

the house all was still. Anne must be upstairs, changing, Teach thought. He headed for her room on the second floor, but stopped in his tracks when he discovered Margery on the landing. She stood in the dim light, a dour look on her face. “Your father is asking for you, sir.”

“I’ll be right there,” Teach said quietly.

“He wishes you to come immediately.”

“I will, as soon as I’ve spoken with Miss Anne.”

“It has to do with her,” Margery said, the distaste in her

tone obvious.

If the old woman wasn’t careful, Teach would still talk to

his father about sacking her. Following Margery to his father’s room, Teach placed Anne’s ring in his pocket. Now would be as

good a time as any to approach his father about marrying Anne.

The room was ablaze with candlelight, and his mother’s

portrait above the fireplace seemed to smile serenely at him.

“Good evening, Father. You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, Edward. Please, sit down.”

Teach noticed the tense lines in Drummond’s shoulders,





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and his instincts told him something was wrong. Not wanting to argue, he took a seat and waited.

Drummond stepped to the side, and it was then that Teach

noticed a small coffer on his father’s dressing table.

“Did you know of Anne’s propensity to go for long walks?”

Drummond asked.

“Yes,” Teach said warily. What a strange question.

“Did you ever follow her?”

“No, I never followed her. There were times when I accompanied her.”

“Have you ever observed her doing anything . . . out of the

ordinary?”

Anxiety settled in Teach’s stomach, like an unwelcome

guest who would not leave. He remembered the time when he’d

caught her returning the items she’d stolen. “Never.”

“Do you recognize this chest?” Drummond continued.

“No.”

“Her name is engraved on it.”

“Then it belongs to her.”

Drummond made an ugly sound. “But the contents inside

do not.” He unhooked the latch and flipped the lid back before tipping the chest forward. Inside were a few pieces of household silverware and coins. There was even an ornate spyglass, one Teach recognized as his father’s favorite. The one his father had claimed was missing.

His heart thundering anxiously, Tech shook his head.





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“There—there must be some kind of explanation,” he stammered, staring at the objects like they were a poisonous serpent.

“Yes, there is a perfectly good explanation. Anne stole