“Ruth, sir.”
“Let her go,” he said.
Patience’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”
“Because you’re hurting her.”
“I asked her where her grandfather, the gardener, was, because I wanted to speak with him,” Patience said.
“Please, sir. He’s worked here for several years and won’t work for anyone else,” Ruth said, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
“But when Edward and I are married, he would still be working for a Drummond.” Patience turned on Teach. “Tell her. Convince her that her grandfather could make more money if he came to work for us.”
Teach didn’t appreciate the fact that Patience was already planning to take one of his father’s staff with her when they married. And he didn’t like her talking about their upcoming nuptials so soon. He’d arrived only a few hours ago. “You heard her. Her grandfather enjoys working here. Now let her go.”
“She merely said he’s worked here for several years,” Patience insisted.
“But she also said her grandfather won’t work for anyone else.”
“But my father is a baron.”
There it was, the insidious reference to the aristocracy. Teach recognized the disapproval in her voice. He’d heard enough at school to recognize it. William was the only aristocrat who didn’t seem to mind Master Drummond’s low birth.
“Excuse me, sir, but Master Drummond would like to see you.” The voice came from behind them.
The three turned and saw Anne standing there, a cross look on her face. Patience released Ruth’s ear, and Ruth ran to Anne’s side, her small hand finding Anne’s.
“How dare you,” Patience said, her eyes narrowing.
Anne ignored her and nodded to Teach. “Your father would like to see you in the library, sir.”
Frustrated, it was all Teach could do not to yell at the sky. He swore his father planned his interruptions. “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
Anne pursed her lips. “He thought you might say that. He said you are to come immediately. It is important and has something to do with the Deliverance.” Her message delivered, she turned on her heel and returned to the house, Ruth stuck to her side.
“Are you going to let her talk to you like that?” Patience demanded, her hands on her hips. “If she were my maid, I’d have her dismissed at once, with no severance and no recommendation for another situation. Who does she think she is, the little . . .”
Patience’s voice droned on and on, but Teach paid her no attention. Anne had been quite discourteous, but he would have been more surprised if she’d been civil. She didn’t bother hiding her dislike, and would need to be reprimanded at some point.
But his mind was occupied with more pressing matters.
Like what his father wished to discuss with him. Teach had often hinted that he would like to captain one of his father’s ships, but his father had never taken him seriously.
Perhaps he’d had a change of heart.
Teach dismissed himself from Patience and followed after Anne, vaguely aware of Patience hurrying after him.
“If I didn’t know better, I might begin to think you didn’t want to spend time with me,” Patience said.
“That’s not true. I’ll come find you later.” Teach felt a twinge of guilt for dismissing Patience so quickly. He would make it up to her, he assured himself, but refused to dwell on the matter. It didn’t take much for Patience to get upset. Then again, it didn’t take much to make her forget her anger.
At the door to the library, Teach paused and took a deep breath. Lifting his hand, he rapped three times with his knuckles.
“Come in.”
Teach stepped inside the book-filled room, inhaling the familiar odor of leather and the clean, sharp scent of linseed oil. The dark wood paneling gleamed in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. Drummond sat in his favorite leather armchair decorated with brass studs. In his hands he held his worn, dog-eared copy of the Bible.
Ever since Teach had been little, his father had retired to his library at this time in the afternoon to read several chapters and drink his favorite tea. He must have just gotten settled, because the tea tray was noticeably absent.
“You wanted to see me?” Teach said, wishing his voice hadn’t broken on the last word. At forty-three, his father was still a formidable figure.
Drummond held up a finger and continued reading. When he was finished with the last verse, he closed the book and set it on the table beside him. “Yes. I wanted to ask you to keep an eye out for me.”
“An eye out for what?” Teach asked, puzzled. What did this have to do with the Deliverance?
“I believe some things in the house have gone missing, and I would like you to see if you notice any of the staff acting oddly.”
“Acting oddly,” Teach repeated.
“Yes. I’ve checked each of their rooms numerous times, but I haven’t been able to find anything.”
“Father, you didn’t.”
Drummond raised his chin. “I most certainly did. This is my house, and those are my things. Nobody steals from me and gets away with it.”
“Have you asked Margery?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She might be the one doing it.”
“But are you sure they’re missing? Perhaps you are mistak—”
“Do not insult me. I know what I’m talking about. A goblet is gone, one that I gave your mother that she admired. And I cannot find my favorite spyglass, the one with the silver-and-gold inlay. Someone in this house has taken them, and I intend to find out who it is. If you can’t assist me with that simple request, then you’re not the young man I raised you to be.” Despite the cutting edge to his words, fatigue showed in Drummond’s hollowed cheeks, and Teach felt a stab of compassion for him.
“All right, Father. I will keep an eye out for the thief.” Teach didn’t think anything would come of it, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure nothing was amiss. It would also give him an excuse to watch Anne more closely.
“Good. Thank you. Now I wish to discuss something else with you. As you know, I’ve spent quite a bit of time working on the Deliverance’s completion. Nearly two years of my life.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Now that its launch is almost here, I find myself looking toward the future.”
Teach’s pulse accelerated, but he knew better than to say anything. He remained motionless, his hands locked behind his back.
“I’ve decided to step down as the head of the company and leave its maintenance to my solicitors.”
This was not the conversation Teach had expected. “But they know nothing about seafaring,” Teach blurted out.
“True, but then, neither did I when I began. Knowledge can be acquired.”
Teach should have stayed with Patience. Preparing for an argument, he drew himself up to his full height. “Knowledge doesn’t need to be acquired when I’m fully capable of running things myself. I’ve just returned from a year at sea and would be more than qualified to take over for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I know what it takes to be a merchant. From the office work you taught me before I left, to the running of the ship itself. I can help you if you would let me.”
“Are you saying you want to become a captain?” Drummond asked, clearly horrified.
“Why not? I’m as capable as the next person.”
“But you’re going to marry Miss Patience. Does she know you want to command a ship?”
Teach shrugged. “Well, no, not yet—”
“Good. She never will.”
“Your father never stood in your way.”
“Because my father could not afford to give me a better life. If I’d stayed home instead of joining that merchant crew, my mother would have died.
I could not stand by and watch her starve to death.” It was rare that Drummond showed any emotion other than anger or disdain, but whenever he mentioned his mother and how she’d always given him her portion of their meager meals when he was a small boy, the look in his eyes softened and the lines in his face were not as pronounced.
Teach was filled with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. It was truly amazing what his father had accomplished in thirty years. At the same time, it was maddening that he refused to let Teach determine his own future.
A knock at the door prevented further discussion.
“Yes?” Teach and his father called out simultaneously. Anne entered the room with Drummond’s tea. She walked to the small table situated between them and set it down.
“I don’t wish to have this conversation again,” Drummond said, his mouth tightening.
Teach shot Anne a dark look. He didn’t want to have it in front of her, but his father never noticed his staff. The only time he paid any attention to them was if they did something wrong. Like stealing silver from him.
“Father, please—”
“You will not set foot on the Deliverance. Is that understood?” Drummond fairly boomed.
The full teacup dropped to the tray, and Anne, clearly startled by the outburst, bit her lip as the scalding water splashed over her hand. Teach cringed and moved to help her, but Drummond waved them both away. “Go. I’ll pour my own tea. I don’t wish to discuss this any further.”
Teach practically wrenched the knob from the door in his haste to exit the room. Outside, he whirled on Anne the minute the door was closed behind them.
“Are you all right?”
“Excuse me?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Let me see your hand.”
She held it behind her back. “It’s nothing.”
“It is not. That water was hot enough to boil an egg. Now, show me your hand.”
With obvious reluctance she held it out to him. The skin was an angry red in one spot, and small blisters were already forming. He dragged her several steps to a small sideboard. Atop was a large vase with several red roses resting inside. He threw the roses down. “Is it fresh?” he asked her.
Anne nodded. “Yes, from this morning.”
“Good,” Teach said, and stuck her hand into the water. He had seen quite a few burns in the last year. Working on the ship, several sailors had had to take turns manning the kitchen. More than one had left the encounter scarred for life.
For some reason Teach felt responsible for her injury. If he hadn’t pressed his father about captaining the ship, he wouldn’t have become so upset. “I’m sorry my father startled you.”
Anne glanced down at her feet. “He meant you, didn’t he? About not stepping foot on board the Deliverance?”
It was a strange question to ask, for a maid would never be banned from a ship. More than likely, she would never set foot on one in the first place, unless she was accompanying a lady. “Of course he meant me.” Teach couldn’t help the bitterness that crept into his voice.
The look she gave him could be described only as pity. “And yet you’re his only son,” she said, almost to herself. Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand, and then cupped it inside her apron so as not to drip water across the floor. “I . . . I’m sorry. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
Teach watched her dart away. Only after she was gone did he realize he had yet to put her in her place. It would have been the perfect opportunity, for the two of them had been alone.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t as keen on it as he had been before. He had a disconcerting feeling that despite their short acquaintance, Anne, the maid, understood him better than Miss Patience, the baron’s daughter, ever would.
CHAPTER 7
Anne
The next morning Anne stood in the kitchen, kneading the dough for breakfast scones, her arms covered in flour. She was not usually one to make a mess while she cooked, but the kitchen appeared as if the flour bag had exploded. She continued to pound the table and form the round shapes.
The rest of the house was quiet. Neither the masters nor their guests were awake, and she was grateful for the reprieve.
The burn on her hand was no longer painful. Anne had been so shocked yesterday, thinking Master Drummond had meant her when he’d actually meant his son wasn’t to step foot on one of his ships.
She’d stood between the two of them and thought Master Drummond had figured out her plans to get aboard.
Thankfully for her, that wasn’t the case. Unfortunately for Teach, Master Drummond controlled him, like everyone else under his roof. And Teach appeared just as helpless to do anything about it.
To be banned from his father’s own ship, she couldn’t imagine what that must feel like. Nor did she want to.
It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him.
Still, Teach had a roof over his head. He would always have plenty of money to spend and food to eat. And he would soon be married to the daughter of a baron.
From what Anne had seen of Miss Patience, she wished Teach luck. He would certainly need it.
Throughout the evening meal the previous day, Miss Patience had taken every opportunity to make Anne look like a fool or drop things. Several times she had even attempted to send Anne sprawling.
Margery eventually took pity on Anne and had Mary serve Miss Patience the cold meats and cheeses instead.
Teach sat on the opposite side of the table, and Anne was unsure which situation was worse. He’d guessed correctly that she had placed something in the tartlet, although he would have a hard time proving it. Anne had thrown out the seeds as soon as she’d returned to the kitchen, and had vowed not to try anything so foolish again.
The rooster in the yard crowed, signaling sunrise. Sara walked into the kitchen and regarded Anne for a moment. “Do you need some help?” she asked.
Anne stopped to catch her breath, blowing a thick strand of hair out of her face. “Thank you, I would appreciate it.”
Sara nodded and grabbed a rag, then cleared the eggshells and excess flour from the table. At least one good thing had come out of Anne helping serve the meals. Sara was kinder to her now than she had been in the past few months. Unsure how long Sara’s behavior would last, Anne was grateful to her for the moment.
While Sara finished cleaning, Anne baked the scones, and their hot buttery scent filled the air. Once they were ready, she covered them with a cloth. After pulling out the scraps of cold meat from the previous night’s meal, as well as a carrot, she walked out to the stable, signaling to the cat. The master didn’t care much for animals, but Margery had proven a valuable employee, so he allowed her to have her pet if she kept it away from the main house and fed it in the stable.
Margery had saved the cat from some street urchins who’d been torturing it, and had nursed it back to health. Anne suspected the housekeeper cared more for the cat than she did for her fellow humans.
Hurrying to the low brick building on the other side of the courtyard, Anne glanced up at the clear sky overheard. The air was brisk.
Leaving the door ajar to allow some light into the dark interior, she dumped the meat onto the floor and watched as the cat pounced, her back rippling with pleasure. From her pocket Anne pulled out the carrot. Then she approached the stall that housed the young master Drummond’s horse. The stallion pawed the earth when he saw her and nipped at the treat in her hand.
Patting his black neck, Anne breathed in his smell. “You weren’t meant to be cooped up like this, now, were you? Barely a chance to get out, with your master gone to sea. What would he do if I took you away from this place?”
“Perhaps you should try it and see what happens.”
Gasping, Anne clutched her chest as she spun around. Leaning against the wall in the shadow of the door was the young master himself, dressed
in a riding jacket, breeches, and riding boots.
“You should have made your presence known,” she said, hating the breathlessness in her voice but unable to stop it.
“And ruin all the fun?” he asked, strolling toward her.
“It’s not right to sneak up on someone.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he said, his eyes not leaving her face.
Taking a few steps to the side, she attempted to reach the doorway. “I have work to do.”
Once again he blocked her path. “Your work can wait.”
“I don’t think Margery or your father would agree.”
“I don’t care what Margery or my father thinks. I’ve been looking for you. Now stand still. I’m getting tired of this constant cat and mouse,” he said.
“Well, I’m tired of being chased,” she snapped, forced to tip her head back and look up at him.
“Then stop running,” he said. “I merely wanted to inquire after your hand.”
In the dim light, half of his face was hidden in shadow. The other half looked tired and ashen. Gone was the arrogance from the previous day. He didn’t appear as intimidating as before, with his shoulders now slightly hunched.
Anne spoke without thinking. “Does your future wife know you’ve been looking for me?”
His eyes widened in surprise, and he paused for a moment, before a look of annoyance crossed his face. “You forget your place,” he said.
“And you, yours.”
He laughed shortly, his teeth flashing white in the gloom. “Tell me, Anne. How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“And where did you serve before coming here?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I want to know how you’ve made it this far with that tongue in your head. You don’t speak like a common maid, and you certainly don’t act like one. I intended to give you a good tongue-lashing, yet I find myself on the defensive where you’re concerned. Why is that?”
“Perhaps you are too used to people bowing to your believed superiority, and don’t understand when your presence is not desired.”
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