Page 16 of The Queer Principles of Kit Webb
“I’m a patron of your lending library,” Percy said, concealing his surprise that Webb didn’t immediately pull his hand away. Instead, Webb just stood there, letting Percy all but fondle him, with a look on his face as if he had just been hit on the head. Since Percy had never learned to leave well enough alone, he stroked his thumb over the soft inside of Webb’s wrist. That seemed to bring Webb out of his stupor, but all he did was roll his eyes and pull his hand out of Percy’s grip.
“Right,” Webb said. “What were you looking for—there it is.” He pulled a book off the shelf, and Percy saw that it was the very volume he had been looking for.
When Percy reached the street, unaccountably dazed by that encounter, he realized he hadn’t even asked Webb about the robbery.
Chapter15
If Percy were honest with himself, and he desperately wished he were not, he was spending more time planning his next visit to the coffeehouse than he was planning a robbery. Well, he reasoned, it was all one and the same, was it not? Perhaps he would wear his plum silk ensemble. Perhaps that would provide the enticement Webb required to finally agree to perform the robbery.
His plans did not include being accosted in the courtyard behind Clare House when returning from his early-morning ride. He had just handed his reins to a yawning stable boy when Webb emerged from the shadows.
“How kind of you to demonstrate your criminous capabilities, Mr.Webb,” Percy said, flicking a piece of straw from his sleeve and trying to sound like a man who hadn’t just been frightened half out of his wits. They were in a part of the courtyard that was still untouched by dawn, hidden from the men inside the stable as well as anyone looking down from an upper window of the house. “One does like to know one’s getting value for money. I do feel reassured knowing that I’m not about to squander my funds on a man who can’t successfully lurk in dark corners. Well done,” he said, and stepped toward the door.
Webb blocked Percy’s path, bringing the two of them nearly chest to chest. They were of a height, but Webb was significantly broader, while it was only good tailoring that prevented Percy from unappealing gangliness.
Not that Percy had the benefit of any kind of tailoring this morning: the entire point of these early-morning rides was for both him and his horse to get exercise at an hour when nobody else was likely to see them, so he wore an ancient and shabby pair of buckskins and a coat that was cut large enough for him to dress without the aid of his valet. His hair was scraped plainly off his face in a way he knew to be unflattering, but he could not abide loose hair blowing into his eyes while riding. He was sweaty and disheveled and knew he probably smelled like horses.
He felt at a decided disadvantage next to Webb, who wore his own buckskins and ill-fitting coat with more grace than Percy thought strictly fair. He even smelled good, somehow, even though the only scent Percy could detect on him was yesterday’s soap, tobacco, and what his mind stupidly and unhelpfully identified asman.
Percy ought to be appalled with himself for being attracted to Webb. Here he was, his life in shambles, his situation increasingly urgent, his closest friend and his only sibling both in a precarious position, and Percy’s prick was running the show. Perhaps it was just used to running the show, or perhaps in times of hardship one finds comfort in the familiar, and in Percy’s case the familiar was most definitely thinking with his prick. There had seldom been any reason not to.
Percy raised an eyebrow and cast a slow, heated glance from the top of Webb’s sadly uncoiffed head to the tips of his scuffed boots, lingering at all the good spots in between, and hoping toconvey a sort of bored lasciviousness, as if he engaged in criminal conspiracy every day between his morning ride and breakfast. Webb sucked in a breath and shifted his stance. It was some comfort knowing that Webb was so easily flustered by Percy’s frank, if exaggerated, lust.
“I won’t do what you asked me to do,” Webb said, his voice quiet but firm, as if he thought the words would put a barrier in between their bodies.
“A shame,” Percy said, leaning closer and almost purring into Webb’s ear. Then he pulled back sharply. “And a waste of time for you to have traveled half the breadth of London to deliver a message that your absence would have conveyed just as effectively. I take it you want me to persuade you to do my evil bidding, and I’m meant to sweeten the deal by some means. I’m afraid it’s too early for this tedium. I’ll visit you at your place of business later this week or the next time I’m in the mood to be bored. Good day, Mr.Webb.”
“No,” Webb said, this time blocking Percy’s progress with a hand to his chest. “You might let a man get a word in edgewise.”
“I might, but why should I, when so few people have anything to say that I care to hear?” Webb hadn’t dropped his hand from Percy’s chest, and Percy felt the pressure from Webb’s broad hand as if it were a hot iron burning through his clothes.
“You’ll want to hear this.” Webb’s voice was low enough that Percy had to lean even closer to hear him, which meant pressing into Webb’s palm. “I won’t rob your father, but I’ll show you how to do it.”
Percy suppressed the urge to laugh and abruptly stepped back, letting Webb’s hand fall. “I’m a man of many skills, Mr.Webb, but highway robbery isn’t among them and I doubt it ever will be.”
“As I said, I’ll show you.”
“You say that as if anybody could do what you did. As if highway robbery were a trick like juggling or a skill like playing the flute. I doubt it’s either, or the roads would be teeming with attempted robbers.”
Even in the shadows, Percy could see something uneasy flicker across Webb’s face. “Ah, but there is a trick.”
“Oh?”
“The trick is to not worry overmuch about being hanged.”
“Oh, is that all,” Percy said. “A trifling consideration. I’m afraid I don’t agree to your terms, Mr.Webb. It has not escaped my notice that you’d like to see the duke get his comeuppance—ah, don’t deny it, I can already see that you’re a terrible liar and it pains me to watch you try. As I said, you wish to see my father suffer, which means you’re a man of taste and judgment, for which I commend you. However, you must think me an utter simpleton if you believe I’m going to do your dirty work.”
“I’m sure you’d prefer me to do your dirty work.”
“Because I’d be paying you,” Percy said, exasperated. “People don’t walk into your coffeehouse expecting to be told to make their own coffee.”
“I wouldn’t take your money.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Talbot money is filthy.”
Percy was only slightly taken aback. “Well, of course it is, my good man. I defy you to find a single wealthy man whose money isn’t filthy. There’s even something in the Bible about it. Eyes of the needle and so forth, positive I’ve heard about it. All the more reason for you to take it. Good heavens, why am I trying topersuade you, a man who is positively infamous for taking other people’s money?”
