Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

“Another round for these fine gentlemen!” Kenneth’s voice boomed through the dimly lit tavern, a triumphant grin splitting his face as he slammed his glass down on the wooden table.

Wilhelm chuckled, leaning back in his chair, the warmth of the brandy spreading through his veins.

“I believe we have earned a bit of revelry, would you not agree?” he remarked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Kenneth’s grin widened, his gaze sweeping over the tavern’s dimly lit corners, the laughter and clinking of glasses a testament to their hard-earned success.

“Indeed, we have,” he declared, raising his glass in a toast. “To our continued triumph! May we keep rising!”

Wilhelm clinked his glass against Kenneth’s, the crystal chiming a symphony of victory.

“And to our enemies’ downfall,” he added sardonically.

They took a long sip, savoring the moment, the warmth of the brandy a fitting reward for their cunning and determination. The meeting with the investors had gone even better than expected, and their plans were now set in full motion.

Kenneth leaned towards Wilhelm. “You must know, Ravenshire,” he began, his eyes shining, “That I never doubted our success. Not for a moment.”

Wilhelm’s chuckle echoed through the quiet corner of the tavern. The warmth of the liquor coursed through him, kindling a sense of innate invincibility within his soul.

“Nor I, Gaverton,” he replied, a hint of arrogance in his voice. “After all, we are a formidable pair. We are the best in the business.”

Kenneth’s grin widened, his gaze sweeping across the tavern and landing on a familiar figure nestled amidst a group of men. “Speaking of,” he began, nodding his head towards the group. “It seems we have company.”

Wilhelm followed the Marquess’s gaze, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the men seated at the table—Lord Shelton, Lord Beaumont, Lord Harrington, and a few others he had encountered in the weeks since his return to London.

“They are watching us,” he murmured as he narrowed his eyes and kept them fixed on their table.

Kenneth cocked his head, mild concern creasing his forehead. “Best not to give them the satisfaction, Ravenshire. They might be looking for trouble.”

Wilhelm chuckled and turned his attention back to him. “They would not dare to underestimate us. Not after everything that has happened since my return to the Ton.”

He tipped back his glass, finishing its contents in one smooth motion before signaling to the waiter for two more.

As he drained the last drop of brandy, he sensed a figure approaching from his right.

Without turning, he commanded, “Bring two more, and keep them coming.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat made him glance over his shoulder. He was not surprised to see that it was not the waiter.

“Beaumont.” Wilhelm arched an eyebrow, a look of surprise crossing his face.

“Ravenshire,” Beaumont greeted with a polite smile. “I do apologize for the intrusion, but I could not help but acknowledge your presence. You are, after all, such a formidable duke. I trust you will allow us the pleasure of your company?”

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, his gaze sweeping over the assembled lords.

“Lord Beaumont,” he drawled.

Beaumont chuckled nervously. “Your Grace,” he replied, his gaze darting away momentarily. “Perhaps it would be more convenient if you joined us,” he suggested, regaining his composure. “We could discuss matters more privately.”

Wilhelm’s eyes locked onto Kenneth’s, a silent question hanging in the air.

Kenneth offered a subtle shake of his head, a flash of warning in his eyes. But, emboldened by the day’s triumphs and the lingering warmth of several glasses of brandy, Wilhelm felt it was time to remind the lords of his greatness.

“Very well,” he declared, rising from his chair with a confident grin. “Lead the way, Lord Beaumont.”

Kenneth shrugged and followed behind Wilhelm as they let Beaumont guide them through the maze of tables. The whispers and curious glances of the tavern’s patrons followed them, and the conversations around them died down. Wilhelm held his head high, his gaze sweeping across the room.

As they approached the table, they were hit by the strong smell of alcohol and cigars, dense smoke clouding the air above them. The other lords rose to greet them, their expressions shifting between malice and unease. Wilhelm smiled contemptuously, studying each face with unabashed relish before settling on Shelton, who met his stare with hostile disrespect.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted, as he and Kenneth pulled out their chairs and sat down. “How… unexpected to see you all gathered here.”

Lord Beaumont chuckled nervously. “Quite so, Ravenshire,” he replied. “We were merely discussing business matters.”

“Business matters? What matters of business do you have left to discuss?” Wilhelm snickered. “I am intrigued. Do tell.”

A tense silence descended upon the group. Wilhelm scanned the faces of the men who had once belittled him, ostracized him, and actively tried to destroy his reputation and banish him from Society. Now, they sat before him, their power diminished, and their influence waning.

“As a matter of fact, we were discussing your recent business ventures,” Lord Harrington finally spoke, his voice carefully neutral. “Your success is quite remarkable.”

Wilhelm sighed, raising his eyebrows as his lips curled into an involuntary smile.

“Remarkable, indeed,” he agreed, his gaze meeting Harrington’s. “Though I suspect my success is a source of discomfort for some.”

He turned to meet Alfred’s gaze, the memory of their last encounter flashing before his eyes.

“I trust you are well, Lord Shelton?” he inquired.

Alfred openly sneered at him, his eyes gleaming with malice as his index finger tapped rhythmically on his glass. The sound grated on Wilhelm’s nerves.

“Perfectly well, Ravenshire,” he retorted arrogantly. “And you?”

“Never better,” Wilhelm replied coolly, his gaze unwavering as he leaned back in his chair. “It seems my return to London has been fruitful.”

Alfred’s gaze hardened, his shoulders stiffening.

“Indeed,” he grumbled.

Wilhelm’s eyes remained locked onto Alfred’s, a silent battle of wills raging between them. The other lords shifted in their seats, their eyes fixed on him.

“I must confess, Your Grace,” Lord Beaumont began, “Your recent business ventures have intrigued us.”

Wilhelm’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Intrigued?” he snorted, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the men gathered around him. “In what way, pray tell?”

Beaumont hesitated as he looked at the other lords, a silent conversation passing between them. Then, with a forced smile, he continued.

“Your ambition has not gone unnoticed,” he explained, his voice laced with a subtle warning. “It seems you are determined to disrupt the order we have established.”

Wilhelm’s grin widened. “I prefer to think of it as innovation.”

Lord Beaumont narrowed his eyes contemptuously.

“Innovation?” he scoffed, his gaze hardening. “Or revenge?”

The accusation lingered in the air as the lords nodded their heads in agreement.

Wilhelm smiled lazily at Beaumont, drumming his fingers lightly on the table.

“I believe that I am still waiting for my brandy,” he said as he looked towards the bar. “I wonder where it is?”

Snapping his fingers, he gestured for the server to bring him his order. The waiter nodded his head and scurried towards the bartender.

Wilhelm turned back to the lords and said, “I assure you, gentlemen, my ambitions are far more magnificent than mere revenge.”

He paused, letting the implications of his words sink in. “I have returned to London,” he continued, his voice gaining strength, “not to settle old scores, but to build a new empire. Whoever finds themselves unable to adjust, well, I fail to see how that would be any of my concern. Either adapt or whither.”

Lord Beaumont glowered and pulled his chair closer to the table. “And what of those who stand in your way?”

Wilhelm’s grin became ruthless. “Those who stand in my way,” he announced, “will be removed from it.”

He placed his elbow on the table, rested his chin on his right palm, and smiled sadistically. The air in their little circle crackled as they looked at each other uneasily.

The server crept nervously towards the table, his hand shaking noticeably as he placed two glasses of brandy in front of Wilhelm.

“Thank you. That will be all, for now. But when you see my empty glasses, you will know it is time to refill them without my asking.”

The server nodded and scurried away, taking up his post next to the bar.

Wilhelm returned his attention to the men before him.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Alfred said.

Wilhelm laughed dryly and looked at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

Alfred’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenching. “You know exactly what I’m referring to. My shipping routes,” he growled.

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Your shipping routes?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. “I believe you are mistaken, Lord Shelton.”

Alfred’s face reddened with frustration, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “You have seized what rightfully belongs to me.”

Wilhelm leaned back slightly, his expression cold. “I believe what you mean to say is that I relieved you of your burden. If it was not me, it would have been another.” He took a sip of his brandy and then placed his hands on the table. “If your businesses were struggling, how is that my fault?”

Alfred clenched his hands into fists, his face reddening. “You have disrupted everything.”

Wilhelm’s gaze was piercing, and his voice remained controlled, though there was a sharpness to it. “I did not disrupt anything. I took what was available after you failed to deliver. The market waits for no one, Lord Shelton.”

The tension was palpable as they stared each other down.

“We will not tolerate your interference,” Lord Harrington declared. “Your ambition threatens our interests, and we will not stand idly by while you destroy everything we have built.”

Wilhelm’s grin widened with unreserved ruthlessness. “You threaten me?” He laughed incredulously.

Alfred snarled. “Your father was right about you all along. You are incapable of controlling your emotions.” He took a sip of his whiskey and turned to Wilhelm with an evil grin. “If your mother had passed sooner, you might have understood how men are supposed to behave.”

Wilhelm slammed his fist on the table, standing up so abruptly that his chair toppled over. He splayed his hands on the table and leaned forward menacingly, his nose merely inches away from Alfred’s.

“You should reconsider your words before it is too late for you,” he hissed as the other patrons turned around and stared at them. “All of you. You dare speak to me like that? After what you all have done?”

He paused, his gaze lingering on Alfred. “I will destroy you,” he hissed, his voice laced with venom as Shelton smirked.

“You cannot win, Ravenshire,” Lord Harrington declared. “We are far too powerful. Our influence is too vast for you to ever comprehend. We will crush you under our boots like a useless mouse.”

Wilhelm gritted his teeth and stared at the man. “You underestimate me, Harrington,” he growled. “You have no idea what I am capable of.” He turned to look at each of the vile men before him. “You have no idea with whom you are dealing. I. Will. Destroy. You,” he hissed.

A heavy silence descended on the group, their mutual animosity pressing down on them as the lords shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

A barely audible voice broke the silence. “…curse.”

Wilhelm’s gaze snapped towards the source, his eyes narrowing.

“Curse?” He laughed coldly, tilting his head to the side. “Indeed. My wife shall see you rot in your graves.”