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H e thought he was so clever, Harrison groused in his squalid lodgings.

So fucking clever to find him in the back end of nowhere and have him followed.

His shoulder still ached from where Kingston had twisted it.

So Kingston had friends at Scotland Yard did he?

Friends who could stake out his mother’s house and force him to take lodging in a rundown boarding house in London.

He thought he could pin him down with a few constables and a loyal dog or two.

He would never understand the true loyalty of the white sons of England.

Locke was an idiot, but he understood the true order of the world.

The way things had to be and would always be.

He understood why it would never do to hand over an English peerage to a black man.

He’d been useful tonight. If not for him Harrison would never have known Kingston had found him.

It had annoyed him at first, the idea that he’d lost the advantage of secrecy.

The idea that Kingston had managed to get the edge on him.

Knew that Harrison had more plans than to simply take back his title.

But he didn’t have nearly enough details to do anything about it but worry, whereas Harrison still had all the information he would need to act.

The balance of justice had to be shifted back decisively in his favor.

His shooter had missed them tonight. It was annoying but not unfixable.

There would be ample opportunities in the future if he waited, but then again, if Kingston knew this much then there was no real point in waiting.

He was wily, which meant that more time would only give him time to plan a counter measure.

The best solution was to strike hard and fast. Get Kingston neutralized and his sweet bitch of a wife dead along with any hope of progeny. But first he would get rid of his meddlesome great aunt. That woman had ruined his plans for the last time.