Before He Was Mine (Before Series, Book 2)

What the King Created

Ernest stared at Will for a long moment. And then, he laughed. It was a loud, belly-aching laugh. The king shook his head dismissively and continued eating. "It is not," Ernest said. "Our arrangement is for life, in case you misunderstood."

Will wasn't shaken by his response. In fact, he had expected it.

"There is no misunderstanding, Your Majesty," Will replied calmly.

Ernest's knife and fork clattered to the table, hitting his plate with an acute noise. His eyes glinted dangerously as he surveyed Will.

"What's this about, Trotten?"

Will leaned back, slinging an arm over the chair next to him. He took his time crossing his legs beneath the table. "I told you. My mother visited, and she shared with me that she'd been in London on behalf of the king. Because of an arrangement that they have."

Ernest glared, eyes narrowing further.

"Why did you have an arrangement with my mother, Your Majesty?" Will needled.

"I have had no such thing!" he protested. Rage spread like wildfire across the king's face.

"So the letter you gave me about my father's treason—and the rest of his correspondence with Monsieur Clermont that you showed me—was not written by my mother?" Will asked, raising his brows.

Ernest leaned back as well, copying Will's position. Will could see his shrewd mind working as he debated how to respond. Luckily, Will was prepared for whatever he said.

Finally, the king exhaled loudly. "Yes, alright," he snarled. "But that changes nothing. The foolish woman still wrote the words, and I may still expose them if I need to. The arrangement between you and I is not over."

Will smiled. "Well, I have a different letter, Your Majesty. And it wasn't written by my mother."

Ernest scoffed and bit into a dry piece of toast before taking a swig from whatever was in his cup.

"I do not care about your letter, Trotten." He took another bite. Crumbs dropped from his mouth, littering his ruffled shirt and his plate.

"You wrote it," Will said, pulling the letter from his pocket and opening it onto the table. "You arranged that meeting between my father and Clermont. My father might have committed treason by aiding Napoleon's armies in the Sixth Coalition, but you facilitated that. Made sure it happened."

King Ernest took another sip from his cup, but his eyes never left Will's. Will could see the barely-concealed fury that danced there.

"And you think that because of this—this piece of paper—I shall simply let you walk away? That's preposterous." Ernest waved his hand madly in front of him, gesturing to the parchment on the table. "This changes nothing," he asserted.

"I've already sent this to the press. They've been working on exactly what to say," Will replied comfortably.

Ernest laughed, disregarding his words. "The press will not run this. They wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't they?" Will crossed his arms over his chest, raising one brow with a questioning look. He took two other papers from his pocket and slid them across the table. Ernest slammed his hand down on them before they could fly off the edge and flit to the floor.

The room was silent as Ernest's eyes raced across the parchment, reading the words that Clemonte, Weston, and Lady Humphries had spun. Will watched in satisfaction as the shade of the king's face darkened.

Finally, he lifted his head and glowered across the space between them. "I would end them if they published this."

Will nodded, nonplussed. "But that would be a bit obvious, do you not agree? Everyone would know it was you who did it. It would make you look...guilty, I should think." He paused dramatically, then added, "And how is your standing with the public at the moment? After everything that has happened with Princess Adelaide, I think we both know a scandal isn't what you need."