to his touch.
“I lay out the evidence of my illegitimacy before my solicitor and hope he can figure out how to make it so that I’m not the Duke of Clare. I haven’t any idea what that entails, but the important thing is that I’ve made a number of decisions that I don’t think can be easily undone.”
“I don’t think Rob would want to.”
“Fair. But let’s say the courts decide he isn’t my father’s legitimate son, and instead the title and estate go to some horrible Tory cousin. I’ve tried to set it up so that nothing I did could be easily reversed. You would not believe how cross my solicitors and agents are right now. So much hand-wringing. So many lamentations.”
“Fuck ’em,” Kit said.
“Fuck them indeed,” Percy agreed, and lifted his pint in a toast.
“But that isn’t what I wanted to know. What happens to you on January first? You don’t plan to stay at Clare House, do you?”
“God no. I, well.” Percy traced a finger around the rim of his cup. “I did have something to ask you, and I hope you won’t take it the wrong way. And mind you, there are other options, naturally.”
“Out with it, Percy.” Kit was braced to hear that Percy had decided to go abroad or to live as a recluse in the country, both of which were probably very reasonable choices.
“Would you mind if I hired the house next door?” Percy asked. “You probably think that given my circumstances, I ought to content myself with a set of rooms, but Collins insists that any sister of mine must be raised as a lady, which evidently means in a proper house, and I’m afraid I’ve put myself in a position where I owe Collins so many favors that I simply must do as he says.”
Kit blinked. “You want to move in next door?”
“As I said, there are other suitable houses, if you think it would be, ah, too much of a good thing to have me next door. It’s a decent house with large rooms and plenty of light.” Percy added quickly, “And I can get it on a long lease. This neighborhood has many advantages, as I’m certain you know; for example, proximity to the prizefights as well as, not to put too fine a point on it, you. But as I said, I can hire a different house with all the above qualities, except that last one, which of course wouldn’t be an advantage at all if you’d prefer me elsewhere—”
“I wouldn’t prefer that,” Kit said. “Not even a little.” He hadn’t quite realized it, but he had been waiting for something like this—a sign that Percy was choosing him, choosing them. Love, while a fine thing, might be little more than an accident. It was what came next that mattered.
“Really?” Percy looked as if he felt as unsure of what to do with this abundance of hope as Kit was himself. “Well, of course you wouldn’t. Who wouldn’t want me as a neighbor? Apart from, you know, quite a number of people, as it turns out, if you’ve been reading the papers.”
Kit slid his hand across the table so his thumb brushed once against the inside of Percy’s wrist.
“Yes, well, it had to be done,” Percy said, even though Kit hadn’t spoken.
Percy looked just as much like the old Duke of Clare as he had the day they’d met, and Kit didn’t think he’d ever fail to note the resemblance or forget the family connection. But now the likeness was proof that Kit himself had changed; it was proof that Kit had relearned how to hope.
Chapter 51
When they got back to the coffeehouse, it was dark and empty. Percy had already slept two nights in a row in Kit’s bed, and he was debating whether it would be indiscreet to attempt a third, when he was distracted by the sight of a parcel leaning against the wall. It was large and flat and wrapped in brown paper.
“That wasn’t here when we left,” Percy said, eyeing it warily.
“It certainly was not,” Kit confirmed, walking over to examine it. “There’s nothing written on it. No direction or name.”
“Might as well open it,” Percy suggested.
Percy couldn’t have said exactly when he realized what he was looking at. Was it after Kit tore off the first strip of paper and he caught a glimpse of blue paint? Or was it after the second strip was removed and Percy could make out the roofline