Before the sentence could be completed, Peregrine exploded, his vision going blood crimson. His left hand shot out to seize his enemy's throat as his right balled into a fist. Through his murderous rage, he felt the pulse of the other man's veins beneath his fingers.
Then he saw the triumphant expression in Weldon's eyes, and had enough sanity left to know that he had been goaded into just such an action. Startled eyes were being turned in his direction, and in a moment the two men would be in the center of a scene—a scene where Peregrine would be the villain.
He released his grip and brushed at Weldon's upper shoulder, making the gesture casual, as if he was flicking something from the other man's coat. The curious bystanders turned away, thinking that they must have misinterpreted what had been briefly visible from the corners of their eyes.
With an easy, lying smile, Peregrine said, "You'll not catch me like that again, Weldon. You were damned lucky. I might as easily have slit your throat as tried to throttle you. That would have given me trouble with the law, but you would have been quite dead." His smile widened. "A delightful prospect, except that it would be far, far too swift."
His own expression equally insincere, Weldon said, "What do you want of me, you bastard?"
"Oh, surely you must know that, Weldon." Peregrine's smile faded, and his voice rang like tempered steel. "In the name of all your victims, I am here to destroy you. I have already taken away much of what you value, but I will not be satisfied until you drink from the chalice of death."
"You're mad," Weldon said contemptuously. "That is the melodramatic babble of the East. This is England. In spite of the problems you have caused, I still have power and influence that a gutter rat like you can never match. Now that I know what you're doing, I can defend myself against your wild schemes. More than that, I will destroy you for your insolence."
"My wild schemes have been quite effective so far, have they not?'' Peregrine murmured, thinking that it was bizarre but somehow appropriate that they were having this confrontation in the midst of a crowd of revelers.
Weldon's eyes narrowed as a new thought struck him. "The personal loans—are you the one who bought them and is demanding payment?"
Peregrine gave a slight, derisive bow. "I have that humble privilege."
"In that case, it will give me great pleasure to default," Weldon snarled.
"Sorry to deprive you of your amusement," Peregrine said with spurious sympathy, "but the day you default, I'll have the bailiffs on you. I'll attach every bit of property you own: the town house, the Hertfordshire estate, the buildings in the City." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder if I can also put a lien on the whorehouses. They are illicit businesses, of course, but they are part of your assets, and I can prove you own them."
Weldon blanched. "How much do you know about me?"
"Everything," Peregrine said softly. His reply hung in the air between them. A laughing couple danced by, leaving a scent of lilies and sweat in their wake.
Weldon's eyes became feral. "Then it is war. Since you mean to ruin me, I have no choice but to ruin you first."
"You can try, but you will not succeed. Even if you manage to kill me, I will reach from the grave to bring you down."
"Bah, spare me the cheap dramatics. You have as much to lose as I do, and lose it you will," Weldon said viciously. "By tipping your hand, you have doomed yourself, for I will stop at nothing to destroy you."
"There is one line you will not cross," Peregrine said with cold menace. "If you hurt Sara, I swear that you will regret the day you were born."
Weldon gave a genuine smile. "What a fool you are. You have just put the perfect weapon in my hands. Hard to believe that a cold little cripple like her can interest any man, but since you seem to want her, the slut will pay for your crimes."
Weldon started to turn away, but Peregrine caught his wrist. "Listen very carefully. You will not hurt Sara. If you do, it is Eliza who will suffer for your wickedness."
Weldon's face went white. "You wouldn't kill a little girl—even you are not such a monster as that."
"Very true, I would not kill her." Peregrine's voice was soft with menace. "But you and she will wish that I had. No matter how hard you try, you will never be able to hide Eliza from me—and when I find her, I will put her in a brothel."
When Weldon recoiled in horror, Peregrine twisted his wrist with punishing force. His voice pitched below the clamor around them, he whispered, "I would send her to a virgin house first. Think of it, Weldon, your darling little girl being ravished by a brute like you. I would specify that she be sold to a man looking for a virgin to cure his syphilis.