Page 61 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
Wilhelm looked at her, and with a serious expression on his face, he responded, “I suppose did not have a reason to smile before.”
Something raw and powerful stirred in Genevieve’s heart.
Wilhelm rose from his seat.
“To Genevieve,” he said, raising his glass. “The Duchess of Ravenshire.” He then lowered his voice so only Genevieve could hear him. “MyDuchess.”
They all rose from their seats, their glasses raised high.
“To Genevieve!” they toasted in unison.
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.
