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."

Will let those words settle for a moment. "Not to mention, there are some journalists that aren't so easy to find, if you know what I mean."

He didn't think it was possible, but Ernest's eyes narrowed even further. Will thought perhaps he had caught him, and that was going to be it, but then...the king laughed. Sneered.

Will waited impatiently until Ernest was done with his show of indifference. Eventually, he leveled his head and said, "I suppose it is time for you to learn the truth of it then, Trotten."

"The truth of it?"

Dear God, Will thought he had figured that out already.

"We will not need these," Ernest said, crumpling the newly written articles in his large, bony fingers. He stood up and walked to the fire, throwing the papers into it. The flames immediately consumed them. Will wasn't concerned about that, however. They had made a copy.

No, he was more concerned about the maniacal look in Ernest's eye. The man strode back to the table and sat down before resuming to eat. Will had to listen as the room filled with the grating sound of the king chewing. Once he swallowed his bite, he looked at Will and said, "Your father did not commit treason, Trotten."

Will leveled him with a glare. "What?"

"I tried to make it happen. You were right about that. Your father was a highly impressionable man, after all. I knew if he could be convinced to pay Clermont, I could use that against him, make him do whatever I wanted in Parliament. My brother, William, had been ruling at that time. He was a weak king; he never listened to my ideas to improve the wellbeing of England's blue-blooded citizens. And so I knew I would need to take action in different ways."

"Yes, you've told me," Will drawled. Over the years, he had grown tired of listening to Ernest's grand plans.

"Well, your father did not go for it. Apparently, he couldn't be enticed by the power and riches that Clermont promised him if the French won the war with his support."

"So, my father was not a treasonous bastard?" Will asked in disbelief.

"Almost was," the king said, pointing his fork at Will emphatically, "but no. Which also means that I had no part in a treasonous deal."

"Well," Will clarified, "you had a part in a treasonous deal that didn't go through."

"No one will care about that, you fool," Ernest snapped.

Will could tell that Ernest was now enjoying himself. He was in his favorite position, looking down upon others from his place of power. And for the first time since Will had walked in, he felt uncertain.

"But, you know what people will care for?" Ernest asked with a smirk.

"What?" Will replied warily.

"The letter your mother wrote that says otherwise. That implicates your family as traitors to the crown. To England. She never once doubted whether or not her husband had actually committed such a crime."

Will pursed his lips. Damn that boneheaded woman. She was the reason for all of this. Will understood that Ernest could be convincing, but honestly, how could she fall for such a thing?

The thought alone made Will pause, self-guessing his own gullibility.

"So you're saying there's no proof that the deal didn't happen?"

Ernest's lips pulled back in a snarl. "I know what you're doing, and it does not matter. I'm the bloody King of England, and I will not stand for your threats!" In his furor, he knocked over his cup, and a dark liquid seeped through the small cracks in the tabletop. Will could hear it dripping onto the floor.

So Will had struck a chord, he noted. He smirked, wondering if he could hit another. It might be suicidal, but he wasn't leaving here as the man's lapdog. He was leaving here as a free man.

"When the ton—your precious aristocrats—hears about your dance with the French affairs, they might be a little upset. You might lose a few supporters, but many will still, foolishly, stand beside you. But what will happen when they then hear how you murdered your brother and stole his throne?"

Ernest's mouth dropped open. And then, in a hushed murmur, he said, "You have no proof of that."

Will sat back and watched as it dawned on Ernest what he had just done—what he had all but admitted.

The king repeated the words quieter, in a harsh whisper. His eyes were like the slits of a snake. "You have no proof of that."

Will raised his brows. "And you only just told me that proof did not matter. But you seem rather uncertain of that now."

The fingers on Ernest's hands were shaking, though he didn't say anything.

Ernest was right; Will didn't have proof of that. It was why he had been hesitant to ever try to use it against the king before. But if there was one thing that Will had learned today, it was that proof was all really inconsequential. Especially now that Adelaide was only a step from ruling. England's rightful Queen was alive. The whole world knew she was merely steps from taking her place as Monarch, and Ernest's rocky claim to the throne gave Will the confidence to make this move.

"You decide," Will replied. "You may release my family's falsified secrets. You may tell your advisors to do what they wish despite the fact that I am innocent. But then I will release your involvement in the same affair. And right when the doubt is sinking into the public's mind about their ruler, I will spread speculation into your legitimacy. And if you hurt me or anyone close to me, the same will be done. Remember, there are people I've already spoken to about this."

Ernest's mouth was forming into a tight, lecherous line as Will spoke.

"Adelaide is the rightful ruler of England," Will continued. "She should be on the throne, and most know this. You are not in a position to bring further doubt to your place upon it."

Fists slammed upon the table, and plates flew into the air as Ernest flung out of his chair.

"I trusted you," he spat. "And you've been playing me this entire time! You've been her supporter."

Will merely shrugged, taking the letter sitting on the table and folding it into his pocket. He stood.

"You created this, Your Majesty. You created me, the most influential lord in the House. In the ton. You created Adelaide, stronger for what she's been through when you killed her family. You created your own downfall."

Will began to walk toward the door even though the king was screaming now. The words meant nothing to him, but he needed to leave before Ernest decided to take a different action. When he was at the door, Will turned around and simply said, "You cannot control me any longer."

He took one last look at Ernest as his eyes bulged out of his sockets, and his red face shook with animosity.

And then Will smiled.

And left.

He would waste no more time thinking about the King of England. The only thing on his mind now was Emilia Shepard...and how he was going to marry her.