Author's note: I know it's been a while but I've been working on this chapter whenever I can and it's finally out! I just wanna state that in this story, all the pairings are all really really weird. To clear up, Troy's cookmaid is Taylor and the other housekeeper is Martha. Chad is married is an OC that I created (because I want Taylor to be one of Gabriella's friends haha). For this story, the only romance would be Troyella. There will not be any Chad and Taylor, Zeke and Sharpay, Ryan and Kelsi, Jason and Martha. ONLY Troyella! Please keep an open mind when reading my story because it might be different from your typical High School Musical fanfic, but stick with me and continue this story! It would be really awesome in the later chapters! :D So yep! Here's the next chapter, enjoy!
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.
Troy began the day as usual, performing his morning ablutions with economic speed and dressing in his usual attire of a dark coat and gray trousers. He tied his black silk tie in a simple knot, and brushed his hair until it settled neatly into place. Giving a cursory glance in the mirror behind the sink, he saw that the smudges beneath his eyes were more pronounced than usual. He had not slept well the previous night. He had been occupied with thoughts of Gabriella, his body teeming with the awareness that she was sleeping only a few rooms away.
It had been impossible to stop thinking about the moment when he had seen her at the window, her long hair streaming in ripples, her nightgown ghostly in the moonlight. Troy had been utterly seduced by the image, his blood coursing as he imagined what the female body beneath the gown might look like.
Scowling, Troy vowed that there would be no more nightly reveries concerning Gabriella. No more fantasies, and certainly no more gazing at her window. From now on it would be work as usual.
Grimly determined, he went down to the kitchen, where he intended to fetch his first jug of coffee and carry it to his office. When that was done, he would take his daily walk through Covent Garden* and the surrounding streets, much in the manner of a physician taking the pulse of a favourite patient. No matter how detailed the reports of the Bow Street runners were, there was nothing quite like seeing and hearing things for himself.
Troy took pleasure in the orderly progression of activities at Bow Street each day. Everything as it should be, he thought with satisfaction.
As Troy entered the kitchen, he saw Jason sitting at the scrubbed wooden table. The boy wolfed down a plate of breakfast as if it were the first decent meal he'd had in months. Gabriella stood at the range with Taylor, apparently showing her how to prepare breakfast. "Turn them like this," Gabriella was saying, expertly flipping a row of little cakes on a saucepan. The kitchen atmosphere was especially fragrant today, spiced with frying bacon, coffee and sizzling batter.
Gabriella looked fresh and wholesome, the trim curves of her figure outlined by a white apron that covered her charcoal-gray dress. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. As she saw him standing in the doorway, a smile lit her milk chocolate eyes, and she was so dazzling pretty that Troy felt a painful jab low in his stomach.
"Good morning, Mr Bolton," she said. "Will you have some breakfast?"
"No, thank you," he replied automatically. "Only a jug of coffee. I never..." He paused as Taylor set a plate on the table. It was piled with steaming batter cakes sitting in a pool of blackberry sauce. He had a special fondness for blackberries.
"Just one or two?" Gabriella coaxed.
Abruptly, it became less important that he adhere to his usual habits. Perhaps he could make time for a little breakfast, Troy reasoned. A five-minute delay would make no difference in his schedule.
He found himself seated at the table facing a plate heaped with cakes, crisp bacon, and eggs. Gabriella filled a cup with steaming black coffee, and smiled at him once more before resuming her place at the stove with Taylor. Troy picked up his fork and stared at it as if he didn't quite know what to do with it.
"They're good, sir," Jason ventured, stuffing his mouth so greedily that it seemed likely he would choke.
Troy took a bite of the fruit-soaked cake and washed it down with a swallow of hot coffee. As he continued to eat, He felt a familiar sense of well-being. Good God, it had been ages since he'd had anything other than Taylor's wretched concoctions.
For the next few minutes Troy ate until the platter of cakes was demolished. Gabriella came now and then to refill his cup or offer more bacon. The cozy warmth of the kitchen and the sight of Gabriella as she moved about the room caused a tide of unwilling pleasure inside him. Setting down his fork, Troy stood and regarded her without smiling. "I must go now. Thank you for the breakfast, Miss Montez."
One last mug of coffee was pressed into his hands, and Gabriella's luscious brown eyes stared into his. "Will you spend the day in the office, sir?"
Troy shook his head. The heat of the stove had made her cheeks pink and glistening. He wanted to kiss, lick, taste her. "I will be out for most of the morning," he said, his voice raspy. "I am conducting an investigation - there was a murder in Russell Square last evening."
"Be careful."
It had been a long time since anyone had said that to him. Troy damned himself for feeling so easily unsettled... but there it was, that velvety tickle of pleasure he could not seem to elude. He nodded shortly, giving her a wary glance before leaving.
Gabriella spent the first half of the day attending to a waist-high pile of papers that had been shoved into a corner of Troy's office. As she filed the mass of information, she welcomed the opportunity to become familiar with the criminal records room, which was dusty and unkempt. It would take days, perhaps weeks, to organise the drawers of materials properly. While Gabriella worked, she reflected on what she had learnt of Troy Bolton so far, including the stray comments she had heard from servants and clerks and runners. It seemed that the Chief Magistrate was an inhumanely self-controlled man who never swore or shouted or drank to excess. A few soft-voiced directions from him would make the fearsome runners hasten to obey. Troy Bolton was admired by all who worked for him, but at the same time they delighted in jesting about his cold and methodical nature.
Gabriella did not believe that he was cold. She perceived something beneath his austere facade, a powerfully contained sexuality that would be all-consuming if it were ever set free. Given the intensity of his nature, Troy Bolton would not approach lovemaking in a casual way. It was too important, too rare for him; he would have to care deeply for his partner before he slept with her. If Gabriella were to succeed in seducing him, she would have to earn his affection. But how did one go about making such a man fall in love? She suspected that he would respond to a woman who supplied the softness that was clearly missing in his life. After all, he was not some godlike being with limitless strength. He was a man, one who pushed himself too hard. For a man who carried so many burdens on his shoulders, it would be a relief to have someone take care of his needs.
Returning to Troy's office, Gabriella used a rag to wipe the dust from the windowsill. She happened to see the object of her thoughts on the street below, as Troy paused at the iron fence that fronted the building. He appeared to be speaking to a woman who had been waiting at the gate. The woman wore a brown shawl that covered her hair and shoulders, and Gabriella remembered that Jason had turned her away earlier in the day. The woman had wanted to see Troy, Jason had told her to return tomorrow as the Chief Magistrate was occupied with pressing matters.
However, Troy opened the gate for the woman and walked with her to the entrance. Gabriella was touched by his consideration for someone who was surely of a much lower class. She was ill-dressed and haggard, yet the Chief Magistrate gave her his arm as courteously as if she were a duchess.
When Troy brought the woman into his office, Gabriella noticed the hitch of a frown between his brows. "Good afternoon, Miss Montez," he said evenly, guiding his visitor to a chair. The woman was thin, middle-aged, and haggard in appearance, her eyes red from crying. "This is Miss Jones, who I understand was turned away by Jason this morning."
"I believe Jason was concerned that your schedule was already quite full," Gabriella murmured.
"I can always make time when it is necessary." Troy half sat, half leaned against his desk, his arms folded across his chest. He spoke in a gently encouraging tone that Gabriella had not heard from him before. "You said that you fear for your sister's safety, Miss Jones. Pray tell me what had caused such concern."
The trembling spinster clutched the ends of her shawl and spoke in a choked voice. "My younger sister, Sophia is married to Mr Jeremy Fowler." She paused, evidently overcome by emotion.
"Mr Fowler's employment is...?" Troy prompted inquiringly.
"He is a medical professional. They live above the shop at St. James's market. There is trouble between Mr Fowler and Sophia, and - "she stopped and twisted the knitted shawl in tight, frantic fists. "She did something a month ago that put him in a rage. And I haven't seen her since."
"She is missing from her home?"
"No sir... Mr Fowler keeps her locked in a room and won't let her out. She's been in there for almost 4 weeks. No one can go inside to see her... I think she has taken ill, and I've begged Mr Fowler to let her go, but he won't, as he's still of a mind to punish her."
"Punish her for what?" Troy asked quietly.
Red flags of shame crossed the woman's narrow cheeks. "I think Sophia took up with another man. It was very bad of her, I know. But Sophia is good at heart, and I'm certain she is sorry for what she did and wants Mr Fowler's forgiveness." Miss Jones eyes watered, and she blotted them with her shawl. "No one will help me free my poor sister, as they all say it's a matter between husband and wife. Mr Fowler says he's only done this because he loves her so, and she hurt him so awfully. No one, not even the rest of my family, blames him for locking her away."
Troy's eyes were hard and icy. "I am always puzzled by this so-called love that causes men to brutalise their wives. In my opinion, a man who truly loves a woman would never intentionally harm her, no matter how great the betrayal." His gaze softened as he regarded the desperate woman before him. "I will send a runner to the Fowler residence immediately, Miss Jones."
"Oh, sir," she faltered, weeping in patent relief. "Thank you, and bless you a thousand times."
As the runner escorted Miss Jones from the office, Gabriella approached Troy and regarded him thoughtfully. He remained in his half-seated position on the desk, which brought their faces nearly level. His expression was brooding, deep brackets carved on either side of his lips. Although Gabriella had heard of the Chief Magistrate's well-known compassion for women and children, she was surprised by his willingness to interfere in a conflict between husband and wife. A wife was legally considered to be a man's property, and he could do as he pleased with her, short of actual murder. "That was very kind of you," she said.
The frown remained on Troy's face. "I'd like to make Fowler suffer in the same way his wife has."
Gabriella was in complete agreement, but she could not resist playing the devil's advocate. "Some would say that Mrs Fowler deserved such punishment for sleeping with another man," she pointed out.
"Regardless of her behaviour, her husband had no right to retaliate in such a manner."
"What would your response be if your wife betrayed you with someone else?"
It was apparent that the question surprised the magistrate. In one abrupt moment Gabriella had turned the conversation into something personal. Troy stared at her steadily, sudden tension causing his shoulder muscles to strain tightly against his coat. "I don't know," he admitted. "My wife was not the kind of woman who would have succumbed to that particular temptation. The issue was never a concern for me."
"What if you married again?" Gabriella asked, held prisoner by his intense blue gaze. "Wouldn't you worry about your wife's fidelity?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I would keep her so busy in my bed that she would neither have the time nor the inclination to seek another man's company."
The words caused an odd quiver to shoot through Gabriella's belly. It was an admission of nothing less than an all-consuming sexual appetite. It confirmed everything she had learnt about him so far. Troy Bolton was not a man to do anything by half measures. Before she could stop herself, Gabriella imagined what it might be like to lie tangled with him in intimacy, his mouth at her breasts, his hands moving gently over her body. Her face flamed with a mixture of embarrassment and awareness.
"Forgive me," he said softly. "I should not have spoken so frankly.
Gabriella flushed. "It was my fault," she managed to say. "I should not have asked such personal questions. I don't know why I did."
"Don't you?" His gaze snared hers again, and the hot flicker in his eyes made it difficult for her to breathe.
Gabriella had been trying to discover more a bout his character and the workings of his heart. It was all for the purpose of manipulation, of course. Unfortunately, she was finding it difficult to ignore a growing attraction to the man she planned to hurt. She wanted to remain cool and uninvolved when they finally shared a bed. However, there were so many seductive qualities about him: his intelligence, his compassion for vulnerable creatures, the raw need beneath his self-controlled façade.
Just as she felt a reluctant softening in her heart toward him, she thought of her dead brother, and her determination burned with new vigour. John must be avenged, or else his life would be robbed of any meaning at all. To let go of the past meant that she had failed John, and that was something that she could not do.
After a moment of calculation, she admitted carefully. "I suppose I am curious about you. You rarely talk about yourself, or of your past."
"There is little in my past that would interest you," he assured her. "I am an ordinary man from an equally ordinary family."
The statement should have reeked of false humility. After all, Troy Bolton was a man of remarkable accomplishments and abilities. Surely he was aware of his own achievements, his keen mind, his good looks, his sterling reputation. However, Gabriella realised that he did not consider himself superior to any other man. He demanded so much of himself that he could never live up to his own impossible standards.
"You are not ordinary," she half whispered. "You are fascinating."
There was no doubt that Troy was often approached by women who had a personal interest in him. As a handsome widower with deep pockets and considerable social and political influence, he was probably the most eligible man in London. Yet, Gabriella's statement had clearly caught him off guard. He gave her a baffled stare, seeming unable to form a reply.
Silence weighted the air. Finally Gabriella spoke, trying to sound brisk. "I will see about supper. Will you eat in the kitchen or here?"
Troy focused on his desk with inordinate attention. "Send a tray up here. I have more to do tonight."
"You should sleep," she said. "You work far too much."
He picked up a letter and broke the seal. "Good night, Miss Montez," he murmured, his gaze falling on the page.
Gabriella left the office and wandered through the hall with a frown. Why should she care if he refused to get the rest he needed? Let him work himself into an early grave, she thought. It hardly mattered to her if he ruined his health, the stubborn ox! But the irritation stayed with her as she recalled the weary smudges beneath his eyes. She reasoned that her concern stemmed from her desire for revenge. After all, one can hardly seduce a man when he was exhausted and half starved.
*Covent Garden is a district in London.
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