Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)

Henry stared at Teach, peering in the darkness up at his

face. “I know you,” he mumbled, his speech slurred.

“Hand over the coins,” Teach said, undeterred. The chances

of Henry remembering this encounter were slim.

After a moment Henry reached into his pocket and tossed

the drawstring bag several feet away.





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Teach slid to the side and bent down, his eyes never leaving his victim. Once he secured the pouch in his hands, he hefted it, testing its weight.

In that instant Henry lunged forward, diving toward Teach’s

feet. Expecting just such a move, Teach sidestepped the tackle,

but Henry still managed to hook an arm around one leg. Teach

landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him. Momentarily stunned, he lay there until he saw the large rock in Henry’s hand.

Teach scrambled out of the way and jumped to his feet.

With a deft movement he grabbed Henry by the hair and

slammed his fist into his face. Henry splayed in the dirt, like a pig on a spit, and didn’t move again.

“You should have listened to me,” Teach muttered, getting

to his feet. He picked up his hat and dusted it off before retrieving the drawstring bag. He took out one coin and flicked it, and it landed near Henry Barrett’s face. With one last disgusted look in Henry’s direction, Teach turned and disappeared into the dark.





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C H A P T E R 1 2

Anne

When Anne got up the next morning, the sky was a light gray,

the sun hidden just below the horizon. She discovered a note

addressed to Margery on the small sideboard in the hallway near

the kitchen. She would have read it if it hadn’t been sealed. The handwriting was bold and strong, and Anne wondered when Teach had returned, for there was no question it was from him.

Was it a reprimand for Margery’s behavior the previous

night? A part of Anne hoped it was, even though she knew that

would create more problems than it would solve.

Anne had not heard Teach return last night. Or perhaps it

had been in the morning. She couldn’t help wondering where

he’d been.

When Margery saw the note, she ripped it open, clearly

uneasy, and scanned the contents. With a sigh of relief she

stuffed it into her pocket and turned to the three girls, who





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stood nearby awaiting their assignments for the day. “It appears the young master has an errand for me in the city. You will continue with your chores until I return.”

Anne exchanged looks with Sara and Mary, but the three

remained silent. Margery turned on her heel and started up the

stairs.

In a matter of minutes the sound of the carriage could be

heard as it drove away, taking Margery with it.

The girls collected their cleaning supplies, and Mary and Sara

started whispering. “She forgot to tell us what to do,” Sara said.

“Aye, she was off in quite a rush.”

“What do you suppose the note said?”

“Don’t know. Just be glad to have her out of the house,”

Mary muttered, her plump face flushed from the exertion of

washing the hall floor.

Anne shook her head and left the two girls to their duties.

She usually polished the furniture in Master Drummond’s

room but hadn’t been able to get to it that week because of the

time she’d spent tending Teach. She hoped to finish before he

awakened.

The upstairs was silent as Anne began her labor. Starting at

one end of the room, she worked as quickly and efficiently as

possible. She’d been at it for some time when the sound of footsteps approached, but they were too light to belong to Teach.

Sara poked her head in the doorway as Anne knelt beside

Master Drummond’s armchair.





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“Have ye seen Mary?” Sara asked.

Anne shook her head. “No, I thought she was with you.”

“Aye, she was, but she said she left a candle burning in her

room and ran to put it out. That was a while ago, and I haven’t

seen her since.”

Anne was not surprised. With Margery gone, Mary would

take any opportunity to shirk her responsibilities. “Have you

checked in the pantry? Or perhaps the stable?”

Sara made a face. “Of course. I suppose I’ll have to go and

get her away from Tom again.”

Shaking her head, Anne listened to the footsteps fade down

the hallway. She didn’t want to think about what would happen

if Master Drummond ever found out about Mary and Tom.

Somehow Mary had managed to keep her liaisons a secret even

from Margery.

As Anne bent over to smooth one corner of the rug, her

foot connected with the bottom of the bedside table, and something dropped with a solid clank. Turning, she discovered a tur-tle-shell spyglass, inlaid with silver and gold, wedged between the table leg and the wall. It was covered in dust. Picking it up, Anne felt her pulse accelerate at the find. From the looks of it, it was quite old, and the metal was tarnished, but Anne still recognized a valuable item when she saw one.

It appeared to have been there for quite some time. When

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