position with my father. Until then, you are not to speak to
Anne, do you understand? You are not to go near her.”
16 8
Margery nodded, glaring at Anne before turning on her heel and stalking away, her limp pronounced.
Anne trembled, whether from anger or nerves, Teach was
unsure. She tried to wrest her arm from his grip, but he tightened his hold.
“I still wish to speak with you,” he muttered.
“And I wish to change.”
Teach deposited Anne in a nearby chair. “Do not move.”
Wrenching open the front door, he came face-to-face with a
small boy standing on the front step. The boy jumped at the
look on Teach’s face, and quickly handed him a small note. A
handsome carriage was waiting in the drive.
“What’s this?” Teach snapped.
“A letter from yer father, sir.”
Teach reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. The
boy pocketed it and scurried away. The black carriage did not
move, and the driver remained seated.
Closing the door with a little more force than necessary,
Teach wished he’d chosen to stay in bed this morning instead
of rising. Despite his enjoyable afternoon with Anne, it had
already been a grueling day, and it was not over yet.
After ripping open the delicate paper, he scanned the contents.
I know you have recovered, and would like you to come
to the Hervey estate at once. I have sent a carriage to
collect you. Until this evening. Richard Drummond
16 9
Teach was not surprised by his father’s words. Of course his father would know he’d recovered. Teach was actually surprised it had taken him this long to send for him. His father never
had been one to favor sentiment over practicality. There was
nothing in the letter about wishing to spend more time with
his wayward son.
No, his father needed him to come and secure the betrothal
with the Herveys.
Truly this day could not get any worse.
Looking down, he discovered Anne had already moved and
was headed up the stairs at a fast pace.
“Anne!” he called out.
She cringed, stopping where she was, and turned slowly.
He took the stairs two at a time, and came to a halt at her
side. “What Margery said . . . pay her no heed. I will have my
father dismiss her immediately.”
Anne met his eyes, her gaze firm. “I was not born in the
gutter like she says. Nor was I raised to work in someone’s
household. I do not know what my father wished for me, but I
do not believe it was this.”
Teach chose his words with care, not wanting to upset her
further. “I’m sure he wanted you to be happy, whatever you
chose.”
“He always told me he loved me, and said he would take
care of me,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I’m sure he did, in his own way, but now that he’s gone—”
17 0
Drawing a deep breath, Anne squared her shoulders. “My father was Andrew Barrett. My mother was his cook, Jacqueline.
He brought her back with him from one of his trips to the West
Indies. I did not work for Henry Barrett. We grew up in the same household together. He’s my half brother.”
Stunned, Teach leaned against the banister, his mouth
open, but no words escaped. A thousand questions fought for
supremacy, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.
Anne stood before him, her hands clenched, and looking
every inch the sixteen-year-old girl that she was.
“Why didn’t you mention it before?” he managed to ask.
“What difference would it have made? My father kept my
identity a secret. Why, I do not know, but I had no wish to
dishonor his memory. Henry knows exactly who I am, and yet
he kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known. Why would
I think a houseful of strangers would treat me any differently?”
“But surely if my father had known . . . Andrew Barrett was
one of his closest friends.”
“What makes you think I would be eager to share my story
with someone residing under this roof? You said yourself, after
your mother’s death their contact was infrequent. Growing
up, I heard the name Drummond once or twice in my father’s
home, but I never dined with guests. My parents were rarely
seen together, and when I spent time with my father, he never
spoke of business acquaintances.”
“I still can’t believe my father didn’t know.”
171
“When Henry brought me here, he told me to keep my mouth shut and not to cause any problems, or else he would return me to the workhouse where he’d found me a few weeks after my mother passed. As I did not wish to return to that lifestyle, I did as he said.”
Teach’s stomach heaved at the thought of Anne spending
time in one of those filthy workhouses. “But surely you could
have found a different position elsewhere.”
“Doing what? I have no references. It took my mother
weeks to find a job as a cook.”
“I’ll speak with my father. Come with me. Now. We’ll go
and tell him who you are.”
Anne retreated up one step, shaking her head. “No. I will