The Queer Principles of Kit Webb - Cat Sebastian Page 0,74

spent a full minute staring at a crack in the ceiling, dreading the prospect of hauling himself out of bed, before he remembered that Rob was back.

And then he could add a sick stomach to his list of complaints. Rob was up to something, which was pretty much his permanent condition, but this time it didn’t involve Kit. Kit could only think of a handful of reasons why Rob wouldn’t spill a secret to Kit, and he didn’t like any of them.

He grumbled and swore the entire time he washed and dressed. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, he was wondering how bad it would be to just . . . slide down, maybe. It surely couldn’t hurt more than walking down would, and would provide a bit of novelty to his day.

“There you are!” Rob called from the bottom of the stairs. Kit could smell burnt coffee and something else equally burnt—toast or oatcakes. Rob could burn anything he put his mind to. During the months they spent living rough, Rob had managed to burn soup; apparently a year of being presumed dead had done nothing to improve his cookery skills. “Had a bit of trouble with breakfast,” he admitted. “I think I’ll just go out and get us a loaf of bread. Why are you just standing there?”

“I’m trying to convince my leg that it really wants to do this.”

“Do you need a hand?” Rob asked a little too brightly.

“No,” Kit said, schooling his face to not show pain as he took that first step down. “Just go away and stop staring at me.”

“Touchy,” Rob said, but he left.

“You’re going to give Betty the fright of her life when she comes in,” Kit said when he finally made it downstairs.

“Oh, I saw her yesterday when she let me in here. About two minutes after she kicked me in the bollocks and punched me in the gut. Really, you’re taking this better than anybody else.”

“I can’t believe you told Betty before you told me.”

“I came here to tell you and Betty. I just happened to see her an hour earlier than I saw you, because you were busy getting fondled by gentlemen. Who is he, by the way?”

At the mention of Percy, Kit remembered what they had done together. He had worried that it would be strange and different with a man. And, obviously, the physical act was different, which his body was still reminding him of. But at the end of the day it was getting off with someone he fancied—fancied a great deal. When he remembered Percy’s words in his ear, alternately soothing and chiding, he could almost feel the other man’s body pressed against his back.

“Kit?” Rob asked, jolting Kit back to the present. “Does he have a name?”

“Percy,” Kit said. He didn’t feel any pressing need to explain who Percy was—or, rather, who his father was. Rob was already going to think that Kit was out of his mind for getting friendly with an aristocrat, and it would be infinitely worse if he knew that Percy’s father was the Duke of Clare.

“Whoever he is, he did not look pleased with you when he left last night. People don’t much care for being referred to as unimportant.”

Kit winced, remembering his own words. But if Percy had become upset by being called unimportant, that was everything but an admission that he wanted to be important to Kit. And that thought made Kit’s heart leap with hope. He wanted to find Percy right that minute and apologize, but it would have to wait until his leg settled down.

Throughout the morning, even though it was a Sunday and the shop was closed, people stopped by as word spread that Rob had returned. By the evening there was a festive mood at the coffeehouse, with people Kit hadn’t seen in over a year coming in to visit Rob. Every time the door opened, Kit turned, hoping that it would be Percy, even though he knew how unlikely that was. Kit was surrounded by nearly everyone he knew, but the person he most wanted to see was across town, in a fine house, an entire world away from Kit.

Even Janet stopped by, a swaddled baby in her arms. He had known she was expecting, but seeing proof of it was still somehow startling. She looked well, though—tired, but plumper than he had ever seen her.

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a job,” Kit said, taking