Free Web NovelChapter 222: Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty One
The steward raised his hand and knocked politely three times.
Knock, knock, knock.
"My lord, General Howe is here to see you," the steward announced.
A man’s voice, deep, powerful, and booming, responded from behind the thick wood.
"Enter."
The steward turned the brass handle, opened the door, and stepped aside, shifting his body so Howe could enter.
Howe walked inside the study.
The steward closed the door and left the two men alone.
The room was large and beautifully lit. The bright afternoon sun shone through the large, tall glass windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the warm air. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound books.
At the far end of the room, sitting behind a very large, polished desk, was a man.
The man was dressed in an expensive, dark green silk coat. His graying hair was combed back perfectly. He was busy writing something down in his large leather ledger with a black feather quill. He did not look up when Howe entered. He kept writing, his hand moving quickly and smoothly across the paper.
He finally finished his sentence. He placed the black quill down neatly in its silver holder. He slowly lifted his head.
"Howe," the man said.
His voice did not sound welcoming at all. It was cold, sharp, and carried a clear tone of deep annoyance.
Howe scoffed. He walked slowly across the plush carpet. He pulled out a comfortable leather chair opposite the desk and sat down heavily. He rested his hands on the armrests, looking at the nobleman with a daring expression.
"It’s good to see you again, Lord Ryde," Howe said, his voice full of hidden mockery.
Lord Ryde did not look pleased to see him. He did not offer him wine. He did not ask how his journey was. He went right back to his ledger, picking up his quill again. He spoke without looking up from his writing.
"To what do I owe this visit?" Ryde asked flatly.
Howe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished desk.
"I need your help," Howe said, his voice dropping into a low, serious whisper.
Lord Ryde slowly stopped his writing. He placed the quill down again. He raised his cold eyes and looked directly into Howe’s face.
"Whatever for?" Ryde asked, his tone filled with deep suspicion.
Howe did not hesitate. "I need to collect that land back from General Benson."
The moment the name ’Benson’ was spoken, Lord Ryde’s entire face turned a dark, furious red. The calm, proud nobleman vanished instantly.
Ryde slammed his palm hard against the mahogany desk.
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The heavy impact shook the desk. The silver inkwell rattled loudly, and a small drop of dark black ink spilled over the edge, staining his neat ledger paper.
Ryde stood up from his chair. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He glared at Howe with fury.
"Do you know what it took Duke Collin and I to sabotage his horse?!" Ryde shouted. His voice boomed angrily in the quiet room.
He walked out from behind his desk. He began to pace back and forth across the room, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he released his long-held frustration.
"We had to plan for months!" Ryde yelled, his voice shaking with anger. "We had to pay Mrs. Ida a massive mountain of gold and threatened her to act as our spy! She had to cut the saddle leather perfectly so it would break right in the middle of his fast gallop! We wanted him permanently crippled, then we would put the blame on his wife so that she leaves and Duke Collin could have the Benson title permanently and my daughter would married his son!"
Ryde stopped pacing. He turned and pointed an angry finger directly at Howe’s face.
"And now, because of your failure, we cannot use anyone from his household anymore!" Ryde spat out, his eyes flashing with hatred. "Damon’s guard is up! He is highly suspicious of everything! He has executed Mrs. Ida, and he has changed every single servant in his house!"
Ryde took a deep, shaky breath, trying to control his racing heart, but his anger was too massive.
"I even staked my own daughter, Isabel!" Ryde continued to yell, his face twisting in pain. "But she got her leg broken and lost her voice at his mansion!"
He walked back to the desk and leaned over it, bringing his face close to Howe’s.
"And what did you do?" Ryde asked, his voice dropping into a harsh, bitter whisper. "Because of your stupid, arrogant pride, you lost the Eastern Valley in a stupid bet! You risked our hard work on a simple game in the dirt!"
Howe’s face turned slightly red under his gray beard. He felt a wave of irritation, but he kept his voice steady and calm. He knew he had made a mistake, but he was not going to let Ryde treat him like a foolish soldier.
"I know," Howe said, his voice low and firm. "I underestimated what he could do. I did not expect him to find such a highly skilled, deadly fighter to represent him in the ring. The boy moved like a shadow."
Howe stood up from his chair, matching Ryde’s height.
"But this time," Howe continued, his eyes darkening with a cold, absolute determination, "I don’t want something that is temporary. Since we can’t find his weakness like we did with his father, we just have to take another more permanent route."
Lord Ryde looked at Howe’s serious face. The anger slowly faded from Ryde’s eyes, replaced quickly by a look of sharp, calculating interest. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"What do you want to do?" Ryde asked, his voice returning to its quiet, serious tone.
Howe stepped closer to him. He lowered his head, his voice becoming a very low, freezing, and deadly whisper that carried the full weight of his murderous intent.
"I want him dead," Howe said.
The words hung in the quiet, sunlit study like a heavy, suffocating poison.
"If he wants to keep on holding to that valley," Howe continued, his gray eyes locking completely onto Ryde’s face, "he will have to die."
Howe paused, letting his next words cut deeply into the silence.
"Like his father," Howe finished.
