The Queer Principles of Kit Webb - Cat Sebastian Page 0,49

stow the conveyance.

In the end, Scarlett inadvertently solved the problem by asking him to escort Flora to her aunt’s house in Edgware.

“Why?” Kit asked her.

“I can hardly send her on her own,” was Scarlett’s answer.

“You have your own carriage and your own men. And I need hardly point out that any of your men will be better equipped than I to defend her, should it come to that.” He gestured at his leg, because even though he had held his own against Percy, he was a good deal slower than he’d need to be in a brawl.

“I trust you,” she said, and he didn’t ask why she suddenly didn’t trust the men she had hired.

He agreed, of course. He could hardly refuse so direct a request without being churlish about it. Besides, in the past, she had often asked him and Rob for small favors; in Rob’s absence, perhaps it was only natural for Kit to accede.

“We’re going to Hampstead Heath,” Kit said, dropping the coffee cup onto the table before Percy.

Percy blinked up at him. “Why?” His eyelashes were darker than his hair, lighter at the tips. Kit could have identified Percy by his eyelashes alone, which was a lowering thought.

“Because it’s closer than Richmond,” Kit growled, and stomped away.

Later, after they finished sparring and sat slumped against the wall of the back room, a flask of ale passed between them, Percy turned his head to face Kit. “What will we be doing in Hampstead?”

“We’re going to hide in a stand of trees and watch the carriages go past so you can learn the best time to attack.” Kit took a mouthful of ale. “The truth is that there isn’t much more we can do here. Your fighting is . . . adequate. It’ll suffice.”

“Will it, now?” Percy said, amused.

“Aye,” Kit said gruffly. “You know it will.”

“Is that a compliment?” Percy’s voice was light, but Kit thought there was a hidden weight to his question.

“You’re a good fighter. You use your brain and your body.” Kit felt slightly lewd saying body, as if he weren’t supposed to have noticed that Percy had a body at all. Kit wondered what would happen if he admitted that he had been half hard the entire time Percy had sparred with the errand boy the previous week.

“Huh,” Percy said, faintly surprised and a touch embarrassed, like he didn’t quite believe Kit. Which was ridiculous, because surely Percy, inexperienced as he was, knew he was competent. It was almost as if he wasn’t used to praise.

“There isn’t much more I can teach you,” Kit admitted.

“Ah. We won’t be doing this anymore?” Percy asked. For a moment Kit thought he heard a trace of disappointment in the other man’s voice, but that couldn’t be right. The Duke of Clare’s son surely had many more interesting things to do with his time.

And yet—he had been coming to Kit’s nearly every day, sometimes hours earlier than necessary. And when he finished here, if he was anything like Kit, then he was probably in no condition for anything more trying than a hot bath.

All of which made Kit wonder when Percy found the time to be Lord Holland. When did he find time for dinners and trips to the theater and whatever else gentlemen did with themselves. There were lords and ladies who had to be wondering where Lord Holland was.

And all the while, Lord Holland was here, in a dirty and badly lit room, sharing cheap ale with a criminal. Kit turned his head, resting his temple on the cool wall behind him. He was facing Percy now, their noses only a few inches apart. There was no possibility that this man would miss Kit’s company, was there? It was laughable. Risible. Kit should be embarrassed for even thinking of it.

Percy liked the looks of him and seemed to enjoy trying to make him blush with wry insinuations and a sort of one-sided flirtation that Kit did nothing to discourage. But wanting to ogle somebody—hell, wanting to fuck somebody—wasn’t the same as deliberately spending all one’s time with them.

They were so close together. Kit could hear every soft exhale from Percy’s lips, could smell his scent of clean sweat, lemony soap, and leather. The hair around his face had come loose from his queue and now curled damply around his temples. Kit badly wanted to tuck it behind his ears.

It wasn’t only Percy who was choosing to spend all his time with Kit—Kit was ready to drop