Page 9 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
“Oh, I did far more thandare, My Lord,” Wilhelm said, his voice snapping like a whip. “I have returned with the means to reshape this society. Adjust, or you will be cast aside.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to an icy whisper.
“Make your choice wisely, Beaumont, lest it be your undoing.”
A ripple of shock moved through the crowd, the guests exchanging wide-eyed glances, their gasps punctuating the tense silence.
Wilhelm’s gaze swept over them, assessing each pale face and each breathless spectator. He could feel their respect—their fear—hanging in the air. They could hate him if they wished. It mattered little, so long as they all understood that he had returned and he would not be ignored.
“You seem quite pleased with yourself, Ravenshire,” Beaumont remarked with a hint of disdain in his voice. “Do you truly believe that you have triumphed?”
“Indeed, I do.” Wilhelm gave him a mocking smile. “I find little pleasure being in the company of those who have done nothing to deserve what they possess.”
Beaumont’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising in indignation.
“You dare gloat in my presence?” he sputtered. “You dare to mock a man of my standing?”
“I am confident that, with time, you will see that my plans for these estates are far more progressive than yours have ever been,” Wilhelm continued, his voice almost playful. “While you squandered your resources on empty posturing, I have built alliances and made investments that will rejuvenate what you have neglected.”
The veins in Beaumont’s temples throbbed. “You… you…” he sputtered, unable to articulate the magnitude of his rage.
“I what?” Wilhelm demanded. “I suggest you familiarize yourself with the terms of the contract, My Lord. I believe you will find them quite enlightening.”
He allowed the silence to settle heavily around them and then snickered at Beaumont’s futile attempts to reclaim his composure. The man who stood before him had been reduced to a mere caricature of the respectful figure he had been only minutes ago, his eyes downcast and his hand tugging at his hair in agitation.
“I have heard enough,” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on Wilhelm’s shoes.
Wilhelm took a deep breath as the crowd hummed with shock and disbelief. “What was that, Beaumont? I could not hear you.”
“This is not over, Ravenshire,” Beaumont finally spat out, venom lacing each word. “You may think that you have bested me, but you have accomplished nothing. We will come for you. Mark my words,Iwill come for you, and you will deeply regret what you have done.”
Wilhelm laughed, a low, ominous sound that echoed through the room. “Then please do so, My Lord,” he replied, his voice brimming with mockery. “Bring your allies and rally your strengths. I assure you, I am fully prepared for whatever you have in mind.”
Wilhelm could sense their unease as they met his unwavering stare.
At that moment, he let his eyes speak for him. They foretold of a reckoning that had been a long time coming.
He smiled at the lot of them with a glacial twist of his lips—a silent challenge that dared them to question his authority.
Wilhelm held the crowd’s stare for a long moment to ensure that each one of them understood the repercussions of their actions. He had not merely returned to the Ton to settle a score—he had come back to rewrite history.
With a final flourish, he snatched the document from Beaumont’s hand, folded it, and tucked it back into his waistcoat.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, My Lord,” he said in a low, chilling whisper. “I believe you have much to contemplate.”
Without a backward glance, he turned on his heel, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow.
His footsteps echoed in the silence, a sound that seemed to linger long after he had left the ballroom and disappeared into the night.
Chapter Three
“It appears as though your husband-to-be has a taste for theatrics.” Marianne giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Genevieve glared at her. “He is not my husband-to-be,” she hissed.
“Oh, pish posh, darling. I was merely making a joke. Do you not wish to hear what happened at the Beaumont ball?”
After a quiet exhale, Genevieve raised a curious eyebrow, her gaze moving from her delicate embroidery to give Marianne her full attention. “Very well. Go ahead.”
