Authors: Nicole Castroman
“You thought wrong. I made my instructions clear. Anne is
the only one to bring me my food,” Teach continued. His justi-
fication for the demand was that she had already been exposed
to him. He didn’t want to risk anyone else getting sick.
“But don’t you want—”
“I want you to leave. From now on Anne is the only one to
wait on me. You may go.”
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Mary still hesitated, clearly unwilling to give up so easily. She moistened her lips and glanced back at the door. He
watched her through narrowed eyes.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?” she
asked, her voice full of innuendo, as she placed the tray on his bedside table.
Teach’s head pounded. “Absolutely sure. Now I suggest you
leave. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to tell your beau, John, about
your cheating ways.”
Mary blinked in surprise at the rebuff. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about,” she said, holding her hand up to her gen-
erous bosom.
Teach took a deep breath, wishing, not for the first time,
that he were still at sea. “Yes, you do. When William and I
came back the day before yesterday from our morning ride,
you and the groom were . . . how shall I say it? Otherwise
engaged. If I catch you doing that again, I will have no choice
but to let my friend John know exactly what kind of girl he
plans to marry.”
“I . . . Tom, he . . . he helped me . . . because I fell . . .”
Teach watched, unimpressed, as Mary tried to defend her-
self. She was clearly not quick-witted. “It appears you both fell,”
he said.
Scowling, Mary stomped toward the door, muttering some-
thing beneath her breath about seeking a different position elsewhere.
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“Tell Anne to come here,” he commanded before she closed the door with a loud bang.
Teach sighed, hoping Mary would make good on her threat
and leave. He wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be the
crook. The less he knew about her exploits, the better. When
he’d met John last year on the merchant ship, they had become
close friends. John had mentioned that his girl was seeking a
situation within a respectable household.
Unfortunately, there was nothing respectable about Mary,
and Teach now regretted having asked his father to give her a
job. Even if he hadn’t been engaged to Patience, Teach would
never have considered Mary as a prospect. She was too eager.
Teach liked a challenge.
He remembered fondly his first few attempts at wooing
Patience. She’d played hard to get in the beginning, but he knew she’d enjoyed the attention. If there was one thing Patience
loved
, it was being the center of attention.
A knock at the door brought him back to the present.
“Come in,” he said.
Anne poked her head in, a wary look on her face. The girl
was constantly on edge. He had the distinct impression that it
took her a while to trust someone.
She stepped inside, rubbing her hands down her apron. It
was covered with gray ash, and several strands of hair had crept out of her cap.
Teach’s hand itched to touch them. She reminded him of
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an exotic flower growing on the islands of the West Indies and seemed out of place in this cold, sterile environment.
“Sir?” she said.
His eyes met hers. Teach was aware how he must look, with
his jaw covered with stubble, his face flushed. Everything was
as she’d left it a few hours earlier, with the exception of one
window being open, allowing a cool breeze to drift through the
room. The chicken broth steamed in the bowl, filling the air
with its scent. “You’re late,” he said, his voice rough.
She pointed to the tray at his side. “You have your soup,”
she said.
“Yes, but you are the only one I wish to bring me my meals.
That includes breakfast, dinner, and supper.”
“But surely the others are capable of bringing you your
meals?” she asked incredulously.
“No doubt.”
“If you’d like me to read to you, I can come later—”
“I do want you to read to me, and that is precisely why I
wish for you to bring me my food, no one else,” he said, pulling at the collar of his nightshirt. “Especially not that fool Mary,”
he muttered beneath his breath. “You’re to let me know at once
if you catch her anywhere near Tom, the groom. Is that under-
stood?”
Anne bristled at his words. She opened her mouth as if to
say something, but quickly shut it again.
“What?” Teach asked.
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“Nothing, sir.”
“That’s not true. You were about to say something. Does it
have anything to do with Mary?”
“It’s not my place to say.”
“It is if I’m asking. What do you know about Mary?”
There was a long pause before Anne spoke. He could see
the uncertainty in her eyes.
“Out with it,” he said.
“I have reason to believe that she engaged in an inappropri-
ate relationship with one of your guests.”
Teach’s eyes widened in surprise. A guest? “You do? Why?”
Once more she hesitated.
“Come closer. Now tell me why you suspect that.”
Anne took a few steps forward until she came to stand at
the foot of his bed. Teach was keenly aware that he did not look his best. Sweat glistened on his brow, and he could feel the heat in his cheeks.
“Your father has made it very clear that he doesn’t want any
sort of
involvement
among the household staff. I’m sure that extends to your guests as well.”
Teach squirmed beneath her steady gaze, remembering his
earlier conduct. “I’m well aware of my father’s rules. You don’t need to remind me,” he said.
Anne reached into her pocket, pulled out a small note, and
handed it to him. “Your friend, the Earl of Lorimar, is not without fault in the matter, sir. See for yourself.”
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“William? You must be mistaken.”
Anne scoffed, obviously not surprised Teach would come to
his friend’s defense. “Yes, William. He has clearly taken advan-
tage of the fact that Mary, as a dependent in your household,
has nowhere else to turn. He would compromise her position
for his own enjoyment,” she said.
Teach’s eyebrows drew together as he read the note.
My darling,
I can scarce tell you how I felt when I first saw you
in this house. I could almost not eat, for my stomach
was truly in knots. You cannot imagine the depth of
my emotions, and I myself am unable to ful y convey
to you how strongly I have come to fe l for you.
Please tell me you fe l the same.
Forever your loving,
Wil iam
Teach’s own stomach was in knots, but for entirely different
reasons. What a pile of rubbish. How many times had he told
William to stop with this nonsense?
“Where did you find this?” he asked Anne.
“I found it while I was cleaning out the fireplace in the earl’s room.”
“And have you asked Mary about this?”
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Anne nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “Yes, sir.
Just before you called me in, sir.”
So that was what the two of them had been bickering about.
“And what did she have to say?”
“She insisted the note wasn’t meant for her, claiming she
cannot read.”
Not many maids could read, but there were ways around it,
especially if she was trying to impress an interested lover. “But you mean to tell me this note
was
intended for Mary?” Teach said at length. Teach had noticed Mary making eyes at William
during the meal.
Anne nodded.
“Then she’s even worse than I thought.”
Anne blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Teach closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I
caught Mary kissing Tom when I returned from my early morn-
ing ride the other day.”
“Again?” Anne asked, before clamping her hands over her
mouth.
Teach snorted. “So this isn’t the first time it’s happened.
Well, William hardly acted the jealous lover, even if the note
was meant for her.” In fact, William had appeared quite amused,
and Teach had been forced to drag him away.
Anne’s face burned with her embarrassment.
Teach did not bother to mask his impatience. “If it wasn’t
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Mary, then I have no idea who the intended recipient was. Perhaps he meant for
you
to find it.”
Anne grimaced.
Ever observant, Teach frowned. “You do not like William?”
Anne shot him a look, as if cursing his watchful eyes. “It’s
not my place to either like or dislike your frie—”
“Oh, stop this nonsense,” he said. “If I ask you a simple ques-
tion, I expect an honest answer. Do you or do you not like the
Earl of Lorimar?” he asked. He wasn’t always this ill-tempered.
There was something about this girl that touched on his nerves.
She was unlike anyone else he’d ever met.
“I fail to understand how my opinion matters, sir.”
“Well, for some reason it matters to me. Answer the ques-
tion. Please.”
She studied the floor, as if she wished for the flowers in the
carpet to swallow her whole. “My father always told me, the
enemy is dangerous who wears the mask of a friend.”
“Are you saying William wears a mask? That he is not my
true friend?”
“I would not seek out his companionship, sir,” she said at
length.
Teach was quiet. He was pleased by her confession, although
he did not know why. William was one of his closest friends,
was he not? As far as he knew, there’d never been any com-
petition between the two of them. At school Teach had often
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laughed at William’s antics, for William provided a nice foil for Teach’s more serious nature.
William always joked and said Teach had what William
wanted most: good looks, a sharp intellect, and the ability to
command respect.
Teach argued back and said that William had what Drum-
mond wanted most: a lofty title, a larger estate, and a life without labor.
Anne broke the silence. “You do not look well, sir.”
His lips twitched. “I did not ask how I looked.”
“I meant no offense, sir. I simply said it out of concern for
your health.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re concerned about me,
are you?”
“Naturally. As the master of the house—”
“Ah, but you said yourself I’m not the master.”
Anne made a small movement. Teach could imagine her
stomping her small foot in frustration.
“Now you’re twisting my words,” she muttered.
He relaxed against the pillows, a chuckle escaping him. He
was actually enjoying himself. “What else would you tell me,
Anne? What else about my appearance bothers you? Are my
eyes too close? Is my mouth too large?”
“At the moment, yes,” she said.
His laughter dissolved into a coughing fit, and his face
flamed.
1 0 0
Anne stepped around the foot of the bed, to be of some assistance, but he waved her away. When he stopped, he leaned
back, wheezing. Anne remained resolutely near his side. “I’m
sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no. You were quite right. I said I wished you to be
honest. I should never demand honesty if I’m not prepared to
hear it.”
The fact that he had admitted defeat was telling. If he hadn’t
been so sick, Teach would not have given in so quickly.
Picking up the book from the table, Anne motioned to his
soup. “If you like, I will continue to read for you. But only if you promise to eat,” she said.
Teach bowed his head, much like he had when he’d been
little and his mother had told him to finish his meal. “Very well.
I will eat my soup. But only if you promise to always tell me
what you’re thinking.”
“Agreed,” Anne said.
Teach smiled, pleased with himself.
Anne sat down in the armchair beside his bed and opened
the book once more.
1 0 1
C H A P T E R 1 0
Anne
For the next five days Anne divided her time between the
kitchen and Teach’s room. Whenever she passed the house-
keeper, Margery’s mouth turned down and she sniffed her dis-
pleasure. Sara and Mary were beside themselves, wondering
why Anne was able to get out of so many chores while the two
of them had to compensate for her alleged inactivity.
Anne would have disagreed. If anything, the three of them
left her more than her fair share of work. She went to bed even
later than usual to make up for the amount of time spent read-
ing to the young master, and was up before dawn to head to the
market and start the proceedings all over again.
While she was tired and overworked, Anne hadn’t been this
happy since she’d entered Master Drummond’s service. Teach
still burned with fever, although his face had regained most of
its color and he wasn’t as weak as he’d been on the first day.
1 0 2
Anne brought him broth and continued to wipe his brow, doing her best to nurse him back to health. Master Drummond
had sent word that Teach was to travel to the Hervey estate as
soon as he was well enough, for Miss Patience was eager to see
him again. Anne told herself she was simply facilitating their
reunion.
For his part, Teach was quite the model patient. He ate