The Queer Principles of Kit Webb - Cat Sebastian Page 0,56

shoving a pint of ale across the table for Percy.

Percy wiped the seat off with his handkerchief and sat. “What exactly is your relationship with Miss Jennings? I thought she was an, ah, aspiring courtesan.”

“And so she is. Do you know Mistress Scarlett’s establishment?”

Percy raised his eyebrows. “I followed you there, if you recall.”

“It’s run by an old friend. Flora works for her.”

“Do you typically escort ladies of the night around the countryside?” Percy asked, knowing already that Kit was not in the habit of doing anything so interesting.

“I needed an excuse to go to Hampstead Heath in a carriage because I can’t ride that distance anymore. And Scarlett was quite insistent.”

“I’m certain that she’s very talented at getting men to accede to her wishes,” Percy remarked.

Kit snorted and took a sip of his ale. “She’s just an old friend,” he said, and Percy wasn’t sure if it was his imagination that Kit’s words were meant to allay Percy’s suspicions. Not that Percy had any suspicions—Kit was free to consort with however many brothel keepers he pleased.

“I’ve never taken a courtesan to visit her aunt, nor have I ever surveyed potential scenes to stage robberies,” Percy murmured, leaning across the table so only Kit would hear. “This is a day of many new and fascinating experiences for me.”

He stayed that way, his forearms resting on the table, his forehead inches from Kit’s own, and watched Kit’s lips curl in a smile.

Good God, but the man was easy to look at. He clearly made no effort whatsoever with his appearance and probably never had, which made Percy both faintly jealous and peculiarly aroused. He looked like he had slept in those clothes, then rolled out of bed and into his boots, and still Percy wanted to crawl into his lap. There was the ever-present stubble darkening his jaw, and the hair that refused to stay in the queue where it belonged. Even Kit’s shabby old tricorn, which looked like it had been run over by a stagecoach and then taken part in a shipwreck, somehow looked alluring in a disreputable way.

Percy knew he was leering. In fact, he knew he spent a shocking portion of his time around Kit ogling the man. He might have stopped if Kit didn’t do it right back. Kit was doing it that very minute, in fact, shooting furtive little glances at Percy’s mouth, then his hands, then his neck.

He expected Kit to throw back his drink and stand up, but instead he stayed where he was.

“I wonder,” Kit said, in that rasp of a voice that made Percy want to moan, “if you’re ever going to tell me what it is you’re hoping to steal from your father. What kind of book is this?”

Percy frowned. Discussing his father was certainly one way to dampen his ardor. He thought of the girl’s Bible, and remembered what his cousin had said about the Bible being the only book the late duchess had carried around. “Perhaps I’m only looking for a memento of my mother. Does it matter?”

“Not especially,” Kit admitted. “But maybe you’ll tell me anyway.”

“Maybe I will,” Percy said. For a moment he let himself imagine what it might be like to be the sort of man who took people into his confidence. He had been trained to keep his secrets close to his chest, though, and didn’t know how to do anything else. But he let himself imagine what it would be like if he and Kit were at this inn, sharing a meal and sharing confidences, not plotting and scheming.

“Maybe you won’t,” Kit said, still not moving away, the half smile still present on his lips, as if he knew Percy would always be guarded and secretive and he didn’t expect otherwise.

“Maybe I won’t,” Percy agreed, feeling his own mouth curve in response. “Maybe I won’t.”

Chapter 27

The road hadn’t changed much in the past year, and Kit managed to get to the copse of trees he remembered without falling off his hired horse, so he was mightily pleased with himself. He would have been more pleased if he could have managed to ride the horse at a pace faster than a slow walk, and he would have been happier still if Percy hadn’t noticed, but he’d take what he could get.

“Find a tree where we can hitch the horses,” Kit said after Percy dismounted. As soon as Percy’s back was turned, Kit began the slow and awkward process of sliding off his horse. He