Page 19 of Miss Thornfield’s Daring Bargain (The Troublemakers Trilogy #1)
Three days later
T here she was, that sneaky little slattern. She thought that he was done but she had no idea. None. Trent stayed where he was and watched as Ada and that jumped-up Miss Hawthorne—as she called herself—stepped out of their carriage. He couldn’t believe that he’d ended up like this, hunted by villains and abandoned by those yellow-bellied cravens he thought were allies.
That gent would only get him his money if he got the job done now. Wouldn’t lift a finger to help any more now that The Yard was out lookin’ for him. Now Trent could barely move without looking over his shoulder. And look at them, laughing and smiling in their fine silks as if they had any right. In London.
His London.
He’d been born to roam these streets freely, to make his way and his fortune as an Englishman. No one had more of a claim to the wealth in this country than a true Englishman. Especially not that oriental whore and her mulatto bitch of a friend. She thought she was so clever getting out from his clutches, and her brother and his toffee-nosed shit of a friend. So fucking clever breaking that uppity little Chinaman out and ruining all of his plans.
And that half-breed bitch with the coloring of a rotten apple, how was she the daughter of a viscount? How could she enjoy the privilege of the nobility while a son of England toiled under the rules of an immigrant? How the hell did they have a claim to prosperity when he was stuck on the streets?
Miss Thornfield was brought up short by the Hawthorne girl who had paused to stare at something in the pawnbroker’s window. Miss Thornfield turned her attention to the bustle of the London evening and Trent hid behind a stationary carriage. He had to be careful if he was going to get out of this bind, and he had every intention of getting out. He waited, watching her dark eyes scanning the street before turning back to her friend. Then she walked the remaining feet to the modiste and entered, leaving her friend by the pawnshop.
How was it possible that he was left in the shadows, and they got the sunlight? How was that the natural order of things? Miss Thornfield, Miss Hawthorne … ridiculous that he had to be deferential to them just because she and her stupid mother knew who to fuck. They were picky little bitches, that was for sure. Not any man would do, it had to be a man with money. And Mr. Thompson was too stupid to see what rot he was letting into his house, into his family legacy. Miss Thornfield was even more of a social climber than her mother. Fucking the son of a viscount, she got herself into the nobility. A good match. As if she could ever be meant to be there. He watched as the Hawthorne girl entered the pawnshop, and he pondered if he should make his move now or later.
The fact was, he had only one real shot at getting free and clear and it would take both of them. Fuck the gent. Trent didn’t need him if all he was there to do was get in the way of his money. He knew his mistake the first time; it was waiting. Waiting for the gent to get his ducks in a row. Waiting for lawyers. Waiting too damn long. He was a man of action; he didn’t need all that other nonsense. His plan would be foolproof: Grab those girls, demand a ransom and once he got the money, get the hell out of town. If they caused a ruckus, he’d keep ’em quiet the best way he knew how.
All he needed was a clear path and he would move. Best to wait. Wait until they were back in the carriage. Then he’d strike.
He’d show them they weren’t the only ones who were clever. He’d show them that they would never be welcome, never be safe. They would never be able to pull one over on him and then go on about their lives as if he didn’t matter, as if he didn’t mean anything. They weren’t going to leave him in the dust to hide and scrape a living like a hunted animal. He’d take what was due him and he’d start with those two nobodies. Once he milked Thornfield and that viscount dry, he’d give them back what was left of those whores. After he taught them some manners and reminded them of their place.
He’d get those evil fuckers off his back and live large like he’d always been meant to.