Page 48 of The Queer Principles of Kit Webb
“Are you still letting every vagrant and vagabond in greater London have a bed for the asking?”
“Only vagrants and vagabonds I like and trust,” Kit said, smiling into his tea.
“Does your gent count in that lot?”
“Do I like and trust him? I like him,” Kit said. “Can’t trust him.”
“Good.”
“He came to me a month ago and asked me to do a job for him,” Kit said. “I couldn’t, because of this bastard”—he patted his leg—“but I’ve been showing him how to do it himself.”
“A gentleman?” Rob asked in apparent disbelief. “Shagging him is one thing, but—”
“Whatdidyou think I’d do while you were off playing dead? Did you think I’d be happy to spend all day pouring out coffee? Or did you think I’d carry on like before, just without you?”
“I tried not to think about it,” Rob said. “Why are we having this conversation sober?” He took out a flask of what Kit knew would be gin and poured some into his tea. Kit covered his own cup with his hand. “Really?” Rob asked, but corked the flask and returned it to his coat. “Sober, bent, friendly with toffs. Anything else I ought to know about how you’ve been spending the past year?”
“Don’t forget crippled,” Kit added lightly, and then felt bad when Rob looked stricken.
“Is it that bad?”
Kit realized Rob hadn’t seen him walk more than a few steps. “Yes,” he said. “It’s that bad.” He realized that the words hadn’t come out bitterly, though. A month ago, he couldn’t think about his injury without feeling as if he had lost a part of himself. But now he was starting to feel like he was still Kit Webb, just with a leg that didn’t work.
“What in hell is that spider doing?” Rob said, getting to his feet and striding to the stairs. “Have you gone blind as well?” He reached up, as if to sweep away the cobwebs.
“Don’t you dare,” Kit said, getting to his feet. “Just duck your head under it as you go upstairs.” Rob turned and stared at him. “It’s just living its life, all right?”
Rob continued to look at him like he was speaking in tongues but held his hands up in surrender, and then poured them both new cups of tea.
Chapter34
Kit woke with his entire body in outright revolt. Yesterday’s traipsing around town had done his leg no good, and he must have leaned badly on his walking stick, because his shoulder and back were in a pitiful state. He 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 toburn 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 youandBetty. 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?”
