Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)



Sitting in the darkened captain’s cabin of the Deliverance, Teach toyed with an open bottle. It had been several hours since he’d left the estate. After the disastrous evening meal, he hadn’t

trusted himself to stay under the same roof as the others.

Despite his request, Anne had retired to her room and

stayed there. Teach had been forced to share a tense supper with Patience, Lord Hervey, and his father.

“Remind me, if I’m ever in trouble, your father would be a

handy one to have in a pinch,” John said.

Teach had told him the outcome of the inquiry.

“Yes, well, my father might have cleared up that problem,

but he’s the reason for another, even greater problem. He and

Lord Hervey set the date for the wedding. In two weeks, they

say I am to wed, the day after the launch of the Deliverance.”

John studied Teach’s expression, a sympathetic look in his

eyes. “You fancy her, don’t you?” John said. “This Anne you’ve

mentioned. The one who tossed the bucket on me.”

Teach trusted his friend well enough to tell him the truth.

“Lord help me, but I do.”

“I could tell. You haven’t stopped talking about her since

you arrived.”

Teach took another sip from the bottle.

“And yet your father expects you to marry a fancy peacock

with a pea brain.”

Perhaps Teach had been a bit harsh in his criticism of

Patience, but she offered little in comparison to Anne. “I can’t 2 7 7

do it, John. I can’t go through with it,” Teach muttered. “My father has already lived his life. Mine has just begun, and yet he would sentence me to death, for my every breath shall be stifled if I am forced to spend the rest of my days with that girl.”

It was John’s turn to take a sip from the bottle. “Have you

told your father you don’t want to marry Patience?”

“Yes.”





“And what did he say?”

Teach scowled, his anger stirring at the memory. “He said it

wasn’t my decision to make.”

John gave a low whistle. “What other options do you have?”

Teach held up the bottle.

“Sorry, mate, but that won’t solve anything.”

Taking a large swig, Teach shrugged. “Perhaps not, but it

can make me forget for a while.”

“What does Anne have to say about any of this?”

“What can she say? She’s living in my father’s house, as his

guest. How can she go against his wishes?”

“Does she love you?”

“I know she does.”

“Well, then. You’re your father’s son. Let’s see you do something about it.”





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C H A P T E R 2 8

Anne

The next morning Anne opened the door to the dining room,

only to discover that Mr. Drummond and Teach were both

already seated. Neither of them spoke, which was why she had

assumed the room was empty. The house was silent, except for

the occasional noise coming from the direction of the kitchen.

She stopped, cursing herself for not ordering another tray to

be sent up to her room. So far she’d done a fair job of avoiding the other members of the household, but she knew it couldn’t last forever.

Teach looked up and saw her, his mouth tightening. Ten—

sion thickened the air. She should have gone for a walk in the gardens instead.

“Good morning, Anne,” Drummond said, motioning her

in. “I wished to speak with you. Come, join us.”

Nodding in Drummond’s direction, she walked to the





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buffet and took a plate. Bypassing the poached eggs and the crisp fried bacon, she took only a handful of blackberries and a hot scone, not sure if she could even stomach that much.

She had not slept well, and her insides were tied in knots.

“Bring me some juice, would you?” Drummond asked, his

question intended for her.

Anne bristled at his words, as Teach pushed back his chair.

“Father, she’s no longer a maid. I will get it for you.”

“Nonsense. The other maids are busy. You don’t mind, do

you, Anne?”

He would never have asked Miss Patience to fetch him a glass.

After a moment’s hesitation Anne set her own plate down,

tempted to walk out of the room altogether. But she intended

to ask for the three thousand pounds, and so she remained,

reaching for the pitcher at the same time that Teach did. His

fingers covered hers.

I’m sorry, his gaze seemed to say.

Anne picked up her plate once more as Teach poured the

juice. Once they were seated, she looked at Drummond, her

hands clasped in her lap. “Yes?” she asked, wondering what he

could possibly wish to discuss.

“I would like you to go to the party with Edward tomorrow

night,” Drummond said.

It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. “I had not

intended to attend—”

“Nevertheless, you shall go. You are of age.”





2 8 0


Alarmed, Anne glanced in Teach’s direction, but his expression was masked. She turned back to Drummond, determined to plead her case. “Please, sir. I prefer to stay home—”

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