A/N: I know its been a while since I posted a chapter but I'm kinda overwhelmed with the work here, hope you guys understand Anyways, here's a third chapter for you guys! Not really much again, just slightly more about Troy's line of work and showing how Gabriella is trying to make Troy fall for her ^^ kinda a short chapter but I'm really trying to rush out more chapters for you guys. I was up till 3 in the morning to get this done, its short that's why I don't really like it :/ oh and by the way, I've changed the other maid of Troy's to Martha instead of Kelsi! You'll see why in the later chapters! ^^ Without further ado, let's start!
Yes, Gabriella thought with a swirl of satisfaction. She would be the one to end Troy Bolton's monkish ways. She would win his trust, perhaps even his love… and she would use it to destroy him.
As news travelled fast on Bow Street, Troy was unsurprised when a knock came on the door not a quarter hour after Gabriella had left. One of the assistant magistrates, Mr Chad Danforth, entered the office. "Good morning, Bolton," Chad said, his brown eyes alight with good humour. At a height of nearly 6 feet, Chad Danforth was the only man Troy had to physically look up to. Chad was a good man, steady and intelligent, and one of the few people in the world Troy trusted.
Pulling the visitor's chair up to the desk, Chad lowered his gigantic frame onto the leather seat. He gave Troy a speculative stare. "I caught a glimpse of Miss Montez," he remarked. "Jason told me that she is your new assistant. Naturally I replied that he must have been mistaken."
"Why?"
"Because hiring a woman for such a position would be impractical. Furthermore, enlisting a woman as comely as Miss Montez to work at Bow Street would be damned foolish. And since I have never known you to be impractical or foolish, I told Jason that he was wrong."
"He's right," Troy muttered.
Leaning to the side, Chad rested his chin in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger and contemplated the Chief Magistrate speculatively. "She's going to be a clerk and file-keeper? And take depositions from footpads and highwaymen and buttock-and-file whores and – "
"Yes," Troy snapped.
Chad's thick brows climbed halfway up his forehead. "To point out the obvious, every man who passes through this place – runners not excepted – is going to be on her like flies on a honey pot. She won't be able to get a damned thing done. Miss Montez is trouble, and you know it." He paused and remarked idly, "What interests me is why you chose to hire her anyway,"
"It's none of your business. Miss Montez is my employee. I'll hire anyone I damn well want to, and the men had better leave her alone of answer to me."
Chad stared at him in an assessing way that Troy did not like. "My pardon," he said softly. "You seem rather touchy on the subject."
"I'm not touchy, dammit!"
Chad responded with a supremely annoying grin. "I believe this is the first time I've ever heard you swear, Bolton."
Too late, Troy understood the source of Chad's amusement. Somehow his normally emotionless façade had cracked. He fought to mask his irritation, drumming his fingers on the desk in an impatient staccato.
Chad watched his struggle with a lingering grin. Apparently, he could not resist making one more comment. "Well, there is one point that no one can dispute – she makes a prettier clerk than the previous one."
Troy pinned him with a forbidding stare. "Chad, the next time I advertise for an employee, I will make certain to hire some long-toothed old crone in the hopes of pleasing you. Now, may we turn the discussion to some other matter… perhaps even relating to work?"
"By all means," Chad said agreeably. "Actually, I came to give you the latest report on Nick Gentry."
Troy's eyes narrowed at the news. Of all criminals he desired to be caught, tried and hanged, Nick was easily the first on the list. He was the opposite of everything Troy sought to uphold.
Taking advantage of the law that gave rewards to any citizen who apprehended a highwayman, burglar or deserter, Nick and his men had established an office in London and set themselves up as professional thief-takers. When Nick caught a highwayman, he received not only a commission upon conviction, but also the highwayman's horse, weapons and money. If he recovered stolen goods, he not only charged a fee, he also took a percentage of the property's value. When Nick and his men could not gather enough evidence against a particular felon, they planted or manufactured some. They also seduced young boys into crime, purely for the purpose of arresting them later and collecting the bounties.
Nick was regarded with both admiration and fear in the underworld, where he was the undisputed king. His office had become the rendezvous for every criminal note. Nick was guilty of all kinds of corruption, including fraud, bribery, thievery, and even murder. Most maddening of all, the man was regarded by much of London as some sort of public benefactor. He cut a dashing figure in his fine clothes and small boys dreamed of growing up to be like him while women of high or low birth were excited by his intriguing appearance.
"I'd like to see that bastard dance in the wind," Troy muttered. "Tell me what you have."
After Chad told Troy everything he knew, Troy went very still, in the manner of a predator catching scent of its most desired prey. "Bring him in for questioning," he said. "And do it quickly."
Chad nodded. "I assume you want to question him yourself?"
Troy nodded. Ordinarily, he would have left such matters in Chad's capable hands, but not when Nick Gentry was involved. Nick was his personal adversary, and Troy had devoted a great deal of effort to bringing the wily thief-taker down.
"Very well sir." Chad stood up. "I'll have Nick taken into custody as soon as he is located. I'll dispatch the runners immediately." He paused, a wry smile softened the hard angles of his face. "That is, if they are not too busy ogling at your assistant."
Troy suppressed a biting remark with great difficulty, his normally controlled temper igniting at the idea of Gabriella Montez being harassed by his own men. "Do something for me, Chad," he said through tight lips. "Make it known that if any of my runners or any member of the foot or horse patrol bothers Miss Montez, they will regret it."
"Yes sir." Chad turned to leave, but not before Troy saw the hint of a smile on his lips.
"What is so bloody amusing?"
Chad replied in a bland tone. "I was merely reflecting, sir, that you may come to regret not hiring a long-toothed old crone."
After having dinner, Gabriella unpacked her items in her new room in Troy's private residence. Her window faced Troy's office, allowing her to see whatever that he was doing. The lamplight highlighted the hard edge of his profile as he turned towards his bookshelves. It was late, and he should have retired for the evening.
Gabriella changed into her nightgown and returned to the window, watching as Troy rubbed his face and bent diligently over his desk. She thought of all the things Taylor and Martha had told her about the Chief Magistrate. With the typical servants' love of gossip, they had provided a great deal of information.
It seemed that Troy's supporters, of which there are many, revered him for his compassion, whereas an equal number of critics denounced him for his sternness. He was the most powerful magistrate in England, even acting as an unofficial advisor to the government. He trained his runners with progressive new methods, applying scientific principles to law enforcement in a way that earned both admiration and mistrust from the public. The methods that Troy used did not make sense to her, but apparently Troy's techniques had untangled mysteries as intricate as the Gordian knot.
The servants held Troy in high regard, as did everyone else who worked at Bow Street. Gabriella came to the unsettling realization that the magistrate was not entirely the evil person she had considered him to be. It did not change her resolve to avenge John's death, however. In fact, strict adherence to principle was probably what had led to the tragedy that had claimed her brother's life. No doubt Troy lived by the letter of the law, putting principle above compassion, and legislation above mercy.
The thought caused Gabriella's anger to flare violently. Who was Troy Bolton, that he should decide who lived and who died? Why was he fit to sit in judgment upon others? Was he so infallible, so wise and perfect? He probably thought he was, that arrogant bastard.
But she was perplexed by the memory of his easy forgiveness that morning, when she had confessed her short-lived affair. Most people would have condemned her as a harlot and said that her dismissal was well-deserved. She had expected Troy to censure her. Instead, he seemed understanding and kind, and had even admitted that he himself had made mistakes.
Troubled, she nudged the frayed muslin curtain aside to gain a better view of his front office.
As if he could somehow feel Gabriella's gaze, Troy turned and glanced directly at her. Although there was no light or candle burning in her room, the moonlight was sufficient to illuminate her. He could see that she was only dressed in the fragile nightdress.
Being a gentleman, Troy should have turned away immediately. But he stared at her intently, as if he were a hungry wolf and she were a rabbit that had ventured too far from the warren. Though Gabriella's body burned with embarrassment, she lingered to give him a good look. Silently she counted the seconds: one... two... three. Then she moved aside slowly, drew the curtain shut, a d raised her palm to her flaming face. She should be pleased that he had shown an interest in what she looked like in her night clothes. Instead, she was profoundly uneasy, almost frightened - as if her plan to seduce and destroy him might somehow end in her own downfall.
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