Page 36 of The Queer Principles of Kit Webb
“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.”
Chapter27
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 managed to do it without falling on his arse, so he was counting that as yet another victory.
“What we want to do,” Kit said, after the horses were secured, “is find a place where we can see the road but stay hidden. Do you see that bend? That’s bloody perfect. It’s fucking gorgeous.” He grinned at Percy and found the other man looking at him with a slightly dazed expression.
“Gorgeous,” Percy echoed.
“Look at the road, not at me. Listen,” Kit said, as he heard the sounds of approaching hoofbeats. He pulled Percy behind atree. Percy was wearing clothing that looked almost startlingly normal—no high-necked leather jerkins, no silk coats the color of hothouse flowers—so they’d have some camouflage. During the actual holdup, they’d have to do something about his hair. As it was, it caught too much light.
“Now,” Kit went on, leaning in so his mouth was close to Percy’s ear, “as the carriage rounds the bend, you can see it for a full ten seconds before they see you. That gives you time to get into the road and into position before they can draw weapons. You and whoever we hire—Tom, most likely—will stand in the road. The sniper—I have the name of an archer who does tricks at fairs—”
“Anarcher?” Percy repeated. “Isn’t that a bit theatrical? Why use a bow and arrow rather than a rifle?”
“Better aim. And quieter.”
“All right,” Percy said doubtfully.
“Anyway, she’ll be in the tree.”
“In thetree?”Percy repeated.
“In a tree, she can hide and also get a clear shot, and if she’s in a good position, she can see down the road in both directions and let you know if another carriage is approaching.” He could see it clearly in his mind and felt his blood sing with anticipation as the carriage approached. “One, two, three, andthere. That’s where you step into the road and call out. You and Tom first take the weapons, then the valuables. Half a minute, that’s your goal.”
The carriage rattled along the road, around the bend and out of sight.
“I thought we weren’t going to be shooting at anybody,” said Percy, who was evidently still caught up on the archer.
“She’s insurance.” Percy remained silent. “I told you not towaste my time or your own if you weren’t willing to hurt people,” Kit said.
“I know, I know. I’m just... readjusting my principles.”
“You’re doing what, now?”
Percy bit his lip and looked like he was searching for words. Kit had never known the man to have anything less than five dozen words at the tip of his tongue. “Well, before all this started,” he began, and Kit assumed “all this” was whatever had incited him to hire Kit, “I never really thought of myself as a particularly good person or a bad person, but I assumed I had to be at least slightly good. I carried on in the way things were always done. Comme il faut, just like everybody else.” He shot Kit a wry look. “In which ‘everybody else’ is people like me, of course. This was the natural order of things, you understand. One doesn’t steal from one’s father or endanger the lives of coachmen.” He swallowed. “But what I’m doing is right, in its own way, or at least it isn’t wholly wrong. It’s doing right by the people I care about, and if I can manage to pull this off properly, I’ll prevent a good deal of harm.”
Kit watched him. He had rather assumed that Percy’s goal was revenge, which was a good enough reason, as far as Kit cared. But he found that he wasn’t terribly surprised to find that there was more to it.
“In any event,” Percy went on, “what I had thought were principles were merely manners, and they’re utterly insufficient for my present circumstances. I keep running into information that makes me have to sort of reorganize everything in my brain. You know when you get a new book, you have to slide everything on your shelf over to accommodate it?” He seemed to remember who he was talking to and huffed out a laugh. “Of course youdon’t. You just jam the new book in there helter-skelter. I’ve seen the state of your shelves. Sensible people, however, attempt to maintain order.”
Kit had the dizzying sense that Percy would get on well with Rob, of all people. They shared the same flexible understanding of right and wrong. Kit had never really questioned that stealing was wrong; Rob had always thought it was perfectly fine, if done for the right reasons, but Rob was a madman.
Percy evidently took Kit’s silence for disagreement. “I see that I’ve shocked you,” he said slowly, his eyes searching Kit’s face. “Was I supposed to say that I think we’re very bad men?”
Kit laughed, some combination of amusement and relief—although relief at what, he could not quite say—bubbling up inside him. “No,” he said, and then his hand was on Percy’s jaw. “It’s just that sometimes, you actually make sense. A man’s allowed to be shocked.” The words came out stupidly tender, an impression that was probably only compounded by the thing his thumb was doing to Percy’s cheekbone. He was afraid it was a caress, that he was actually caressing Lord Holland. Lord Holland who had made an argument for the virtues of crime, Lord Holland who wasPercy, who maybe thought Kit wasn’t so bad—
