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S till looking above your station, eh Leo? Edward Harrison thought as he watched his former brother in arms with amusement from his seat in the theatre. He thought he’d cured the jumped-up darkie of setting his sights too high when he’d had him drummed out of the army.

Kingston had always been a good soldier, disciplined, loyal and strong as an ox.

But he had a sanctimonious strain that made him think he was better than he was.

Made him think he had a right to lecture others on morality or integrity just because they sought entertainment with native whores.

As if any of them had minded. His blood still boiled when he remembered the way he’d spoken to him about comporting himself like a British Officer. A representative of their country.

Their country.

As if it would ever belong to the likes of Kingston. It was his people’s lot to build it, not own it or represent it. How could a black man represent England? How could Kingston dare to compete with his betters for promotions or think he had the right to pull rank on them?

So, Harrison had taken it upon himself to remind Kingston of the reality of his position.

It had been almost too easy in retrospect, to get him out of the army.

A rumor here, a murmur in a free ear there, or money in an idle hand and Kingston was gone.

In the end the white Englishman would always prevail, because the truth was unmistakable.

They were meant to lead, to rule, to win.

Harrison had only one reason for returning to England.

It wasn’t his mother and her interminable winging or homesickness after being away for months at a time after years in the army.

No, he was here to claim the birthright he was entitled to by law and by blood.

Fate had placed him too far down the line of inheritance, but that was no real barrier to an enterprising gentleman such as himself.

The barony should be his and so it would be.

If the gold bedecked harem girl that Kingston was currently ogling came with it, then he would take her too.

For a time.

She was temptation itself with that flowing hair, the dark eyes of an odalisque, and the body of a cosseted whore.

The exotic females of the orient were more fun than their frigid English counterparts, but he had no intention of allowing her to contaminate his family line, no matter how alluring she was.

No, he would enjoy her for as long as she held interest, and then she would meet with an unfortunate accident just like all the others who stood between him and what he deserved. Then he’d marry a proper Englishwoman and get an heir off her.

But first he’d have to wed her, bed her, and pocket the rest of her enormous dowry.