Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)

“Aye, he was sick all over Miss Patience,” Sara said, unable

to hide the smile on her face. “You should have heard her when

she came in. She swears like a sailor when she thinks no one

is near.”





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Margery came back down the stairs just then, carrying a dark blue dress. Even if Anne hadn’t recognized it, the smell alone would have been enough to tell her it was Miss Patience’s

garment.

Thrusting it into Anne’s arms, Margery said, “Here. Do

what ye can with this. It’s new, and the missus doesn’t want to

throw it away.”

Anne retreated to the washing kitchen, grateful to be out

of the chaos but resentful that she was left to clean up the

mess. Miss Patience was nothing more than a spoiled child,

and Anne was sick of everyone treating the girl as if she were

a queen.

Once the water in the large pot had boiled, Anne removed

it from the fire and dunked the entire dress into it. It would

need to soak for several hours, if not a few days.

The mark was large, the color of burgundy, and despite the

dark shade of the dress, Anne didn’t hold out much hope of

ridding the garment of the stain. Anne had packed their picnic

lunch.

While salt and wine could get out a grease stain, she doubted

that salt and grease would remove a wine stain. From the looks

of it, the young master had had his fair share of the liquid that afternoon.

With a stout stick she stirred the water, lifting the material

out every once in a while to check its progress. It was indeed a beautiful gown, although on closer inspection she saw that the





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material wasn’t as rich as she’d first thought, the workmanship not of the highest quality.

Anne left the wash kitchen for a time to help Margery serve

supper. Neither Teach nor Miss Patience was present during the

evening meal, and the conversation was subdued. Lady Hervey

picked at her food, while Lord Hervey and Master Drummond

shot each other dark looks.

It was left to William to try to lighten the mood.

When Anne returned to the kitchen later in the evening,

after the guests had retired, she removed the dress and held

it up to the candlelight. Just as she’d suspected, the stain was still there, although it had faded somewhat. About to return it to the water, she noticed that the seam on one of the sleeves had come undone. She yanked at the thread, but instead of the thread breaking, the material simply continued to unravel.

Glancing over her shoulder, she quickly returned the dress to

the pot, feeling as if she’d been tricked.

The dress might have been new, and Anne could do her

best to return it to its former splendor, but there was no denying that it was poorly made.

Much like Miss Patience herself.





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C H A P T E R 8

Anne

The carriage drove away the next day in the pouring rain,

the last of the houseguests safely inside it, along with Master

Drummond himself. He was going with the Herveys in an

attempt to smooth things over between the baron’s daughter

and his son. Their estate was a few hours’ ride from the city,

and they planned to discuss in which Hervey property Miss

Patience and Teach would live. Coming from one of the oldest

baronies in the country, the Herveys maintained four separate

properties.

Standing alone in the doorway, Anne stared after them,

wondering what she’d done to deserve such a heinous punishment. She was to tend to Teach until he was well, because he

was too ill to travel with the rest of the party. Lady Hervey and Miss Patience had practically pushed each other out of the way to exit the house once Teach’s illness had been confirmed.





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Anne was not sorry to see them go and hoped they would not return before she quitted the house for good.

Behind her, Margery clucked like a mother hen, handing

her some tea. “Here you go, Anne. Take this up to Mr. Edward

now. See if his fever is any worse.”

Resigned, she took the tray from Margery’s hands. “I don’t

see why Sara can’t take it up to him,” Anne said. “Now that the

master is gone, she should be free to leave the kitchen.”

Margery shot her a sharp look. “Last night the young master requested that you bring the tea up to him in the morning,

not Sara.”

With his father no longer at home, Teach apparently got

what he wanted. Anne was quite sure the Drummond men

wouldn’t know what to do if somebody outside the family ever

said no to them.

The back stairs were dim, the rain hitting the windows with

an intensity that rattled the panes. The sky outside fit her mood perfectly.

Anne reached the door and tapped it with her foot.

There was no response.

Should I take the tea back down? Or simply leave it by his bedside and hope that he wakes up before it’s too cold?

Pushing the knob, Anne stepped into the shadowy interior, the

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