The Queer Principles of Kit Webb - Cat Sebastian Page 0,6

for Christopher, middle name Richard, alias Gladhand Jack?” He pulled a chair out from the wall and brought it to face Kit’s desk, and then he sat, one leg delicately crossed over the other as he had done downstairs. That surprised Kit, even more than the fact that this man knew who Kit was. This man was rendering himself vulnerable, open to any attack Kit might choose to make, and surely he knew that Kit had every motive to attack him. “I’m Edward Percy.”

At the name, Kit’s fingers involuntarily closed around the hilt of his dagger. Not because he recognized it, but because he didn’t. He had never had any dealings with a man of that name, and if this stranger were acquainted with a friend of Kit’s, he would have led with that information. Instead, he had announced that he knew exactly who Kit was and what Kit had done. Briefly Kit considered telling this Percy that he had the wrong man. But this stranger knew. Kit could see it in his eyes. Somehow—and Kit would dearly like to know who had informed on him—Percy had found out, and denying the truth would only make getting rid of him more tedious.

Percy’s gaze traveled to Kit’s hand, still wrapped around the hilt of the weapon, and then back to Kit’s face. Nothing in his posture changed, nothing to indicate that he knew he was in danger, not the slightest trace of fear or even vigilance. That, in Kit’s experience, meant one of two things: either the man was enormously stupid and overconfident, which were certainly common enough traits among the wigged and powdered set, or he thought knowing who Kit really was would be enough to keep him safe, in which case he was very stupid indeed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Percy?” Kit said, trying to imbue his words with as much boredom as he could, barely bothering to turn his voice up at the end.

“I have a proposition for you,” Percy said, crossing his legs in the opposite direction. His silver shoe buckle caught a beam of light from Kit’s candle, drawing Kit’s attention to Percy’s ankle. It was thin, almost delicate, and those clocks on his stocking seemed almost to writhe before Kit’s eyes. For one mad moment, he wondered if he might like whatever proposal Percy had to offer, however insulting.

“Eyes up here, Mr. Webb,” Percy murmured softly, and Kit felt his cheeks heat at having been caught out, but also at the lack of rebuke in the man’s voice. There were times when a lack of rebuke was almost an invitation, certainly a concession, and Kit did not know what to do now that he found himself in one of those situations.

“You enjoyed looking at me downstairs, too,” Percy went on. And, damn it, Kit knew he ought to have been more discreet. He hoped the dimness of the room concealed his flushed cheeks but had the sense that he was rapidly losing whatever upper hand he might have had at the start of this interview.

“I wasn’t the only one looking,” Kit replied.

“Indeed, you were not,” Percy said promptly. “Can you blame me?” He slowly raked his gaze down Kit’s body, and Kit had the inane idea that this man’s penetrating eyes had rendered the heavy oak desk as transparent as glass. “But work before play, Mr. Webb,” he said, a note of arch reprimand in his voice, as if Kit had started this, whatever it was. “Not to put too fine a point on it, I’d like to engage your services.” He paused, as if deliberately giving Kit a chance to get ideas about what those services might be, and whether he would like them. Kit let his thoughts trail down this path for a moment. Patrons were forever attempting to purchase Betty’s favors, so perhaps it wasn’t so very odd for one to attempt to do the same with Kit.

The fact was that Kit didn’t let himself look at men the way he was looking at Percy, at least not often, and certainly not so obviously as to get caught. He wondered what it was that had tipped his hand to this gentleman. Kit’s closest friends, such as they were, didn’t even know. He had the uncomfortable sense that this man saw everything Kit wished to conceal.

“I’d like to hire you to remove some papers from the possession of a man of my acquaintance,” Percy said, a trace of laughter in