Back in London, William stepped out of the study, looked around, and didn't see Abigail. When he returned to the master bedroom, he found her sound asleep. He checked his watch; it was already past midnight in London.
He pulled out his phone and tried calling Wilson. To his surprise, Wilson picked up almost immediately, and the sound of loud music and noise filled the background. Without a doubt, William knew Wilson had sneaked out to party at a nightclub again.
"Hey, William, what's up? What brings you to call me at this hour?" Wilson shouted over the noise.
"Damn, it's way too loud," William thought. If it weren't for the fact that he'd just caused some trouble in New York and needed to make a public appearance, he would have just turned off his phone. He had no love for nightclubs. Hanging up, William sent Wilson a text, asking him to send the address. After changing clothes and grabbing his car keys, he left the house. Following Sunday's guidance, he arrived at a nightclub half an hour later.
As soon as he got out of the car, he saw Wilson's head bodyguard waiting for him at the entrance. "Good evening, Mr. Devonshire. Please follow me."
"Thank you, Thomas," William said, shaking Thomas' hand. "What's the occasion? It's past midnight, and Wilson still dares to be out instead of at home. Or did he sneak out again, planning to go home and face the music after having his fun?"
"You misunderstood," Thomas laughed. He knew that William's relationship with the royal family was excellent, to the point where even King Philip had to wait for him. "It's Princess Tilda's 18th birthday today, and His Highness Wilson was practically dragged here by her."
"Princess Tilda?" William thought for a moment, and Sunday quickly reported in his ear, "Tilda is the eldest daughter of Prince Anderson."
Oh, right. William remembered hearing about Princess Tilda, who was often called the most beautiful princess in the royal family. But he had little interest in her. Tonight, he was here just to show his face. Pretending to be curious, he turned and glanced at the crowd of men and women waiting in line outside the club.
"William, oh my God, it's William Devonshire!"
The moment he stepped out of the car, people in line had noticed him. Now, as he turned around, someone immediately recognized him.
Seeing the crowd start to react, Thomas hurriedly urged William, "Mr. Devonshire, please follow me."
Having achieved his goal of being noticed, William smiled and followed Thomas into the nightclub.
As William entered, most of the crowd sighed in disappointment, but a few smart ones quickly pulled out their phones and called reporters. Recently, all of Britain had been paying close attention to William and Lena. Now that they had caught him at a nightclub, news of it was sure to earn some of them a good payday.
Inside the club, Thomas led William to the largest private room on the second floor. As soon as he entered, he was surrounded by the young women who knew he was coming.
Half an hour later, unable to bear the noise any longer, William left behind a £100,000 check. With a regretful look from Princess Tilda and the other girls, he dragged a reluctant Wilson out of the private room. They exited through the back door, got into Wilson's car, and headed toward the Thames. Wilson's bodyguard would bring William's car later.
As soon as they got in the car, Wilson complained, "Why are we leaving so early? I finally got a chance to let loose, and now it's all ruined."
"Alright, alright," William interrupted. "If you want girls, after we finish talking, I'll have someone find them for you. As many as you want. But if you want to have fun, you need to make money first."
"So, you're finally going to let me in on your game?" Wilson's mood brightened immediately at the mention of money, forgetting about the girls altogether.
The convoy took about ten minutes to reach the Thames. As they got out, William noticed some paparazzi following them and gave them a friendly wave.
The manager of the Thames Yacht Company hurriedly approached, smiling as he greeted William and Wilson. "Welcome, Mr. Devonshire, Your Highness Wilson. The yacht is ready. Please, follow me."
They boarded a 20-meter-long Princess yacht. William raised an eyebrow in dissatisfaction. "Are all Princess yachts this small?"
Before the yacht manager could respond, Wilson chimed in, "Oh, come on, William. Not everyone's as rich as you. This yacht costs £3 million. Aside from custom-made yachts, your Ambrosia from Riva is the largest mass-produced yacht. You really should pay more attention to British brands; we've got some good ones."
"Hm." William glanced at the unusually enthusiastic Wilson and immediately sensed something was up. Waving the yacht manager away, he whispered to Wilson, "Don't tell me you're so broke you're pitching yachts for Princess?"
Seeing that William had waited until they were alone to ask, Wilson felt grateful and a little more comfortable. He sighed, "You know as well as anyone that while I have assets, most of it is real estate. Without working for it, how would I have any spending money? So, after graduating high school, I started helping some of the old British brands promote their products."
Wilson's act was quite convincing, but William wasn't really interested in his sob story. "Alright, alright. Let's talk business over food. This is good news for you."
"Heh, I knew I couldn't fool you." Wilson chuckled. The two of them laughed as they went up to the second deck, drinking beer and grilling meat. After they'd eaten their fill, William finally spoke. "You know I've been collecting Chinese antiques, but I don't have the connections or the interest in dealing with the people who sell them. So, I want you to help me find nobles who are willing to part with their antiques.
"As for the commission, you have two options: either 5% of the sale price, or if you introduce me to someone and the sale is over £5 million, I'll give you one of my bulletproof vests at cost, and whatever you sell it for is your profit."
Wilson's eyes gleamed, and he grinned. "Given how popular your vests are, I'll choose the second option for now. Once the market is saturated, I'll switch to the first. Sound good?"
"Whatever works for you. I save my time, and you make a little extra cash." William clinked his beer can against Wilson's. "Here's to a successful partnership."
"To a successful partnership," Wilson echoed, draining his can. He knew full well that William was giving him a helping hand. With William's connections, there were plenty of people who could act as brokers, but he had chosen Wilson instead. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. You'd better brush up on your antique knowledge, though. You wouldn't want to make a fool of yourself. The experts I've hired won't go easy on you just because of your status."
"Don't worry about that. Maybe I'm not as well-versed as you, but I know plenty of professionals," Wilson said, then hesitated before adding, "Are you really not interested in getting to know more nobles like us?"
"Hah, knowing you, your grandfather, and Duke Devon is enough for now. The rest of the aristocracy can wait until I need them. You know as well as I do that the state of the British nobility isn't something a few people can change. Even if the entire aristocracy banded together, they wouldn't be able to make much difference. Keeping things as they are is the best they can hope for, so it's better for me to stay out of it."
"Fair enough. You're a genius. You make more money in a day than most people make in a lifetime. If I were you, I wouldn't bother with them either."
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