The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue (Montague Siblings, #1)

by Mackenzi Lee

but I’ve always been of the mind that subtlety is a waste of time. Fortune favors the flirtatious.

Lucky for Percy, his aunt and uncle took him in. Lucky for me as well, or else we might never have met, and then what would have been the point of my life?

“Felicity, get those goddamn spectacles off your face.”

If the whole of England were sinking into the sea and I had the only boat with a seat for a single person more, I’d save Percy. And if he’d already drowned, I probably wouldn’t save anyone. Probably there wouldn’t be much point in me going forward either. Though I would hang on because I’d likely wash up in France, and from what I remember from the summer my family spent there when Felicity and I were young, there are some lovely women in France. Some handsome boys as well, many of whom wear their breeches very tight, though I wasn’t clear where I stood on that when I was eleven.

So in spite of being in possession of a full understanding of what a terrible decision it is to do so, I lean in and kiss Percy on the mouth. I truly intend to make it a peck, just a small one, like it’s only because of the rhyme and not because I’ve been going mad with wanting him for two years. But before I can pull away, Percy puts his hand on the back of my neck and presses me to him and suddenly it’s not me kissing Percy, it’s Percy kissing me.

It’s like being set aflame. More than that—it’s like stars exploding, heavens on fire. Kissing Percy is an incendiary thing.

I stop. It may be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, though it should be noted I have not had a very hard life.

but he’s distracted when his wig catches on a passing woman’s and they’re both nearly uncoiffed.

“If he could beat this out of me, I would have let him long ago.”

“Because I want you to know,” she says, “that there is life after survival.”

When you are a lad who enjoys getting other lads in bed, you have to develop a rather fastidious sense for who plays the same instrument or there’s a chance you’ll find yourself at the business end of a hangman’s knot.

It is impossible to explain how you can love someone so much that it’s difficult to be around him.

“Are you going to give me the fornication without the intention of procreation is of the devil and a crime lecture? I believe I could recite it from memory by now.” “Monty—” “Perhaps I am trying to procreate with all these lads and I’m just very misinformed about the whole process. If only Eton hadn’t thrown me out.” “You’re avoiding the question.” “What was the question?” “Are you—” “Oh yes, am I a sodomite. Well, I’ve been with lads, so . . . yes.”

She purses her lips, and I wish I hadn’t been so forthright. “If you’d stop, Father might not be so rough on you, you know.” “Oh my, thank you for that earth-shattering wisdom. Can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.” “I’m simply suggesting—” “Don’t bother.” “—he might ease up.” “Well, I haven’t much choice.” “Really?” She crosses her arms. “You haven’t a choice in who you bed?” “No, I mean I haven’t much choice in who it is I want to bed.” “Of course you do. Sodomy’s a vice—same as drinking or gambling.” “Not really. I mean, yes, I enjoy it. And I have certainly abstained from abstinence. But I’m also rather attracted to all the men I kiss. And the ladies as well.” She laughs, like I’ve made a joke. I don’t. “Sodomy has nothing to do with attraction. It’s an act. A sin.” “Not for me.” “But humans are made to be attracted to the opposite sex. Not the same one. That’s how nature operates.” “Does that make me unnatural?”

You’re the kind of pair that makes everyone around them feel as though they’re missing out on a private joke.”

“We’re not courting trouble,” I say. “Flirting with it, at most.”

God bless the book people for their boundless knowledge absorbed from having words instead of friends. “Yes, thank you. I’ll try that.”

I could tell him. Right here, right now, let it out in the light. Percy, I could say, I think you are the most beautiful creature on God’s green earth and I would very much like to find a hidden corner of this opera house and engage in some behavior that could only be termed sinful.

Everything will always be second to Percy.

Neither of them appears to quite have a handle on what it is they’re doing, but they’re nonetheless enthusiastic about it.

“What are we doing?” I return, my voice coming out at a much higher pitch than anticipated. “What are you doing?”

“But he is. He’s been ill for two years and you didn’t know because life goes on. He’s found a way.”

I expect a word of thanks from him, or at the least some sort of manly, approving nod,

“You’re still daft.” “Are you complaining?” “No,” he says, giving a quick tug on my sleeve that turns into his fingers pressed into my palm in a way that makes me weak in the knees. “I sort of love it.”

think I quite deserve some medal for the restraint I have thus far shown in regard to Percy now that I know he and I seem to be reading from the same book on the subject of our romantic sentiments,

and I’ll be damned if I’m robbed of him as soon as we realize we’ve both been admiring each other from a distance all this while. I’d fight Death himself one-handed to get the panacea for him.

“I’m going to show you how to swing at the next man who strikes you.”

I think of my father—not of him swinging at me, but of all the times he’s told me how pathetic I am. How useless and hopeless and embarrassing I am, good for nothing and will amount to nothing and nothing, nothing, nothing—reason after reason until I had begun to believe it wasn’t worth putting up my hands. And here’s Scipio, telling me I’m worth defending.

“Now, next time someone takes a swing at you, you swing straight back at him, all right? Promise me that, Henry.”

“What’s the use of temptations if we don’t yield to them?”

And I don’t think I have to be well to be happy. God.” He takes another step away from me, head tipped back to the sky. “I should have said that ages ago.”

“What?” He looks up. “No. No! That’s not what I . . . I’m trying to tell you I love you, you sod.” My heart takes a wild vault. “You . . . what?” “Dammit.” Percy tips his face to the sky with a moan. “I’ve had this whole speech worked out in my head—I’ve been planning it for weeks, waiting for a moment on our own—” “Oh no, did I wreck it?” “You completely wrecked it.” “I’m sorry!” “And it was so good!” “I’m so sorry!” “Couldn’t keep your fat gob shut for two minutes. Dear Lord.” “Well, that was a rubbish way to start it! I thought you were angling in the other direction and I panicked.” “Yes, well, I wasn’t.” “Yes, well, I know that now.” We’re both red faced, both of us laughing, though we sober at the same time and trade a look that feels like silk against my skin. I tap his side with my elbow. “Say it anyway.” “In its entirety?” “At least the important bit.”

From here on out, I intend to have a damn good life. It will not be easy, but it will be good.