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  Even if he had, why on earth would the fishmonger have brought the whole barrel to the house? Anne had told him she needed only two pounds, not the whole lot.

  Masking her confusion, Anne brushed past Margery and emptied the contents of her pail. “I’ll get to the shrimp as soon as I dress the pheasants and start the vegetables,” she said, a knot of unease forming in her chest. What would the fishmonger demand in return, she wondered. Would she have to look for another stall at the docks as well?

  Pushing those unsavory thoughts aside, she worked quickly and efficiently for the next few hours. An excellent cook, Anne’s mother had taught Anne how to prepare delicious meals, and Anne took special care to make sure things were done according to Master Drummond’s specifications. Most of the time there weren’t any problems.

  That day, Margery had hired a young girl to help with the cooking. Normally Margery and Anne were able to handle all the duties in the kitchen themselves—Master Drummond typically ate alone and never had much company. But the return of the master’s son was an important occasion, and Anne was grateful for the extra help.

  Twelve-year-old Ruth peeled and chopped the potatoes with practiced ease. She was slight in stature and pale, her light blond hair plaited down her back in a thin rope. Anne felt the girl studying her as they worked.

  “Do you have any family?” Anne asked, trying to fill the awkward silence between them.

  Ruth dipped her head, her small hands flying. “Aye, ma’am.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  “Aye, ma’am. Three brothers and two sisters.”

  “Are you the eldest?” Anne asked.

  “No, ma’am, the youngest. My sister Elizabeth is the eldest. My grandfather is the gardener here.”

  “Ah, so that’s how you came to get the job.”

  Ruth nodded.

  Trying to extract information from her was painful. Anne bit her lip, working silently for a few minutes. Once the vegetables and pheasants were roasting, they turned their attention to the shrimp. Anne showed Ruth where the cistern was to gather water to fill the large pot.

  “All right, then. We just wait for the water to boil, and then we’ll add the shrimp. Have you ever tasted shrimp before?” Anne asked.

  Ruth shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Anne,” Anne said gently. “I’m not much older than you and much too young to be called ma’am.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ruth said automatically.

  Anne laughed. “Tell you what. Once the shrimp are ready, I’ll let you try one. It can be our secret.”

  Ruth’s brown eyes lit up, and she gave Anne a timid smile. “Yes, ma—”

  Anne raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Yes, Anne,” she said.

  “Good girl. But don’t tell Margery.”

  “Don’t tell Margery what?” came a shrill voice behind Anne.

  Anne’s back stiffened. “That I might have added too much salt to the water.” It was the first thing that came to mind.

  “Well, that’s easily fixed. Go and get fresh water,” Margery said gruffly.

  Making a face at Ruth, Anne dutifully took the heavy pot and dumped the perfectly good water out the back door, effectively washing the step for the second time that day. Instead of making Ruth take the trip down to the cistern again, Anne filled the pot herself. It was cool and dark in the lower story, and she enjoyed the solitude.

  While there she heard a commotion coming from upstairs. The master’s son, Mr. Edward, had apparently returned. He had been expected the previous evening, but a storm had delayed his arrival, and Master Drummond had not been pleased, especially with company coming later that afternoon.

  Anne stayed where she was. If he was anything like his father, she certainly wasn’t in a hurry to greet him. The master was a cold and angry man, preoccupied with improving his social status in the community, and he was well aware that many aristocrats mocked him behind his back. Wealth wouldn’t be enough if Master Drummond were ever to attain the higher circles to which he aspired, which was why he’d arranged for his son to wed Miss Patience Hervey, the daughter of a local baron.

  Although Anne had yet to meet either party, she thought it might be a most fortuitous match. She’d heard it said that God had made men and women, and then he’d made the Herveys. The family was known for their overbearing and overconfident manner.

  Margery had said the master would have liked nothing more than to set his sights higher and have his son marry the daughter of an earl or a duke. But a baron was one of the few peerages that could descend through female lines, and by Mr. Edward’s marrying Miss Patience, any Drummond offspring would be titled.

  Once Anne returned to the kitchen, she set the pot in the hearth. It would take some time for the water to boil. She looked around for Ruth, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

  The two housemaids were in the washing kitchen, fighting over the flowers in one vase, each girl wanting to take the large red blossoms to the respective guest rooms.

  “I heard the young Miss Patience likes red roses,” Sara spat, her slender fingers white from holding the vase so tightly. She was a handsome girl with dark hair and wide brown eyes.

  Leaning back, Mary, the plumper of the two, shook her head, her blond curls shaking. Her normally pretty face had turned pink from exertion. “I don’t care. The baroness should have them.”

  Rolling her eyes, Anne marched past them on her way outside. She debated about telling them that the female members of the Hervey family would most likely bring their own lady’s maids, and any attempt on the housemaids’ part to take over that position would surely be wasted.

  She had no sooner finished her thought than there was a loud crash from behind her, followed by two shrill cries.

  Now they’ve gone and done it.

  Anne returned to the scene and discovered both girls crying and wringing their hands. There were glass shards everywhere, and the water was forming small puddles on the stone floor. The stems and blossoms of the flowers were unharmed, and Margery swooped in and plucked them up, turning on both girls. She gave them each a swift smack upside the head. Both Sara and Mary clutched their ears, recoiling from Margery’s rage.

  “What do you think you’re doing? We don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Sara, you clean up this mess. Mary, you go and find another vase, and don’t you dare touch any of the tartlets in the pantry. Those are for dessert.” She pointed an accusing finger at Anne. “Where were you earlier when Mr. Edward arrived?”

  “I didn’t know my presence was needed.”

  Margery took a threatening step toward her, the glass crunching underfoot. “Don’t act so smart with me. Take the young master some water, since you’re so fond of the cistern. He’ll be wanting a bath.”

  Relieved to leave the bickering behind, but loath to face the new master, Anne headed down the cold, stone steps once more, grumbling to herself. It took her twelve trips up the many flights of stairs to fill the large brass hip tub in the young sir’s second-story chamber.

  By the time she was finished, her back was drenched with sweat, her face flushed with heat. The last few buckets had been filled with steaming water. Master Drummond insisted they keep a pot of water in the washing kitchen for such purposes. He was fanatical about cleanliness, as it was next to godliness in his eyes.

  There was still no sign of the young master, and Anne stuck her arm into the tub, swirling the water to mix the hot with the cold. She was tempted to climb in herself, and laughed out loud at the thought.

  A low voice behind her stopped her heart cold. “So, you’ve changed your mind, have you? Come to talk to me about the price of the shrimp after all?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Teach

  The girl jumped to her feet, the backs of her legs hitting the tub. Water sloshed over both si
des, soaking her dress and shoes. No sound escaped her. She simply stared at him, her mouth gaping like a cod on a hook.

  Teach smiled grimly as he closed the door with a firm hand. His footsteps were measured as he crossed the distance between them, despite the fact that he walked with a slight limp.

  “So, Anne, you thought you got the better of me,” he said softly, enjoying the look of fear on her face. She reminded him of a rabbit caught in a snare. Served her right after what she’d done to him.

  Her eyes widened. She was clearly surprised at his familiarity with her name.

  “Oh, yes, I already know who you are. Imagine my surprise when the fishmonger told me you worked in my father’s house.”

  Anne’s mouth snapped shut, but she did not move.

  “I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t downstairs when I arrived.” He could not have planned their reunion any better himself.

  Anne licked her lips nervously.

  “You’re not so confident now that you aren’t armed, are you?”

  Her eyes flicked to the bucket near her feet, but Teach snatched it away before she could wrap her fingers around the handle. Like a snake about to strike, he blocked her escape. She stumbled to the other side of the tub, using it as a shield. A smile crossed his face, but it lacked mirth.

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “Five—” Her voice came out as a squeak, and she cleared her throat. “Five months.”

  “I could have you punished for what you did,” he said, watching her closely.

  She nodded. “Yes, you could.”

  “After that, I could have you fired.”

  “Yes, you could. But I’d rather you didn’t,” she said.

  “And why not?” he growled.

  She held her breath but said nothing more.

  Scowling, he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the tub. “By Jupiter, you’re an arrogant maid. How did you ever land in my father’s house? More important, how in the world have you managed to stay for so long?” Teach was surprised his father had employed someone of mixed race. Richard ­Drummond was not known for his tolerance and open-mindedness.

  Any reply Anne might have had was cut off by some commotion coming from the hallway. It was Master Drummond’s voice, calling out for his son.

  “Damnation!” Teach breathed, closing his eyes briefly. His father had terrible timing.

  A hesitant sound brought his head up sharply. Anne had moved, and his eyes pinned her to the spot. Pointing a finger at her, as if she were a child for him to command, he said, “Stay,” before striding to the door. He rested his hand a moment on the knob, feeling like a guilty schoolboy called before the headmaster.

  The minute his head was turned, Anne took the opportunity to slip through the side door that connected to his sitting room. He listened as she fled into the back hall and down the stairs.

  Although Teach would have liked nothing more than to chase after her and continue their conversation, Master ­Drummond’s voice demanded his immediate attention. He would deal with Anne later.

  Straightening his shoulders, he pulled open the door and stepped out to meet his father. It had been a little more than a year since they’d last seen each other, and time had not been kind. Richard Drummond was still a handsome man, even in his advanced years, with his square jaw and rugged looks, but there was no denying the signs of age. New wrinkles spread out from his eyes, and dark circles smudged his cheeks beneath.

  “It’s good to see you, Father,” Teach said, wondering if the older man would embrace him. A part of him hoped that he would. His father had not been down in the courtyard to greet him upon arrival, and Teach had tried to hide his disappointment.

  “You need to hurry,” Drummond said. “You’re late, as usual.”

  Teach nodded, doing his best to control his temper. He should have known better. His father had never been an affectionate man. Teach hadn’t wanted to come home in the first place. He would have remained at sea, but his father had threatened to cut him out of his will if he did not return.

  Ever since he’d set foot on land this morning, Teach had been met with nothing but obstacles. First in the form of the arrogant maid. Now with his own father. He wondered if his inheritance was worth all of the trouble. “It couldn’t be helped. The storm was too strong to attempt reaching the shore.”

  “But when you landed this morning, you didn’t come home immediately, did you?”

  Teach was convinced his father had some mystical ball through which he looked and controlled everyone else’s life. It was useless to lie. “No, you are correct. I went to see the ship.”

  “And?” Drummond asked.

  “It’s a beautiful vessel and will serve the fleet well,” Teach said, choosing his words carefully.

  It was clearly the correct thing to say. His father’s face beamed with pride. “They thought a ship that large couldn’t be built,” he said, his tone arrogant.

  Teach nodded. “Yes, even William said—”

  Drummond frowned. “William? You mean the Earl of Lorimar?”

  Too late Teach realized his mistake. He stuttered, regretting his hasty response. “Yes, I—I saw William . . . I mean, I saw Lorimar briefly.” The world of the English peerage was confusing, with its many names and customs, and Teach had a hard time bringing himself to call his former schoolmate by his proper title. Thankfully, William did not stand on ceremony, at least not in private. In fact, it was William who had first started calling him “Teach.”

  As the only son of the Duke and Duchess of Cardwell, ­William had been given a courtesy title at birth, the Earl of Lorimar. Upon his father’s death, William would then become the next Duke of Cardwell.

  “What was so important that you went to see your friend first?” Drummond demanded, clearly not pleased.

  Teach winced. If it hadn’t been for Anne, he would have been home sooner. As it was, he’d been so angry at the time that he’d decided to head to William’s, since the duke’s estate was closer to the center of town. “He said in a letter that he had something important to tell me.”

  “And? What was it?”

  “William—I mean Lorimar—was accepted into Cambridge,” Teach said, saying the first thing that came to mind. In truth, he’d not kept up any correspondence with William.

  Drummond exhaled loudly. “Yes, I already knew that. Surely that could have waited until this afternoon? The earl will be dining with us, after all.”

  Teach shrugged. “I was unaware of that until I spoke to him. And he is on the route home. I’m sorry, Father.”

  “Yes, well, so am I. I’m not sure I’ve ordered enough food to satisfy his hunger.” He gave his son a shrewd look. “Does he still enjoy his sweets?”

  “He looked . . . well,” Teach said, aware of his friend’s tendency to eat anything within sight. “It appears he has his weakness firmly in hand.” “Firm” might have been a bit of a stretch, but William had lost some weight since the last time Teach had seen him.

  Drummond was clearly unconvinced. “I still don’t understand what you hope to gain by his acquaintance. I should have put a stop to your friendship long ago.”

  “Mother liked him well enough,” Teach said.

  “Your mother always saw the good in people, whether it was there or not. If she could see what Lorimar has become, I’m quite sure she would agree with me. He doesn’t take anything seriously; he’s lazy and under the misconception that you can cure the world of its ailments simply by throwing a pastry at it.”

  Teach knew his father’s dislike of William had more to do with William’s father than with William’s affinity for overindulgence.

  The Duke of Cardwell had been opposed to the Deliverance, claiming its size would give Richard Drummond an unfair advantage over the other merchants when it came to commerce and trade. In the
end the duke had lost the argument, and he’d also lost Drummond’s respect.

  Teach decided to keep his mouth shut. He suspected the only reason his father had invited William was so the earl could relay to the duke how impressive the ship was and what a grand vessel it had turned out to be.

  Drummond pulled out his gold pocket watch to check the time. “You must shave. Miss Patience and her family will be here shortly,” he said.

  He wished he had more time to prepare for her arrival, but there was a part of Teach excited to see Patience again. Although she was a baron’s daughter, when the two of them were alone together, she acted more like a scullery maid, allowing him to do things no lady of noble breeding should agree to.

  But at the moment he was exhausted and wished for nothing more than to soak in the tub and rid himself of weeks of filth and grime. As much as he loved being at sea, there were benefits to coming ashore. “Can you not write and ask them to come tomorrow?”

  His father snorted. “They are already on their way and should be here within the hour. You’ve known about this for quite some time, Edward. Why do you insist on provoking me?”

  “I do not control the skies, Father. You cannot blame me for weather postponing my return,” he protested.

  “I blame you, because you insisted on this foolishness in the first place. What did you hope to learn by spending a year at sea? Nothing has changed since you’ve been gone.”

  “Everything has changed! When will you realize I am no longer a boy and start treating me like a man?”

  “When you behave like one,” was the cold response.

  “How can I behave like one when you’re still making my decisions for me? It’s time you allowed me to determine my own fate, Father.” Although Drummond didn’t know it, Teach planned to be aboard the Deliverance when it set sail, with or without his father’s consent.

  Drummond drew himself up to his full height, forgetting that his son had surpassed him long ago. “What nonsense. The baron and I have discussed this at length, and even Miss Patience is in agreement. The sooner the two of you are wed, the better it will be, for everyone involved.” Not waiting on his son’s response, he turned on his heel and strode away.