The Gentleman’s Guide to Getting Lucky (Montague Siblings, #1.5)

by Mackenzi Lee

“Do you mean to tell me that you have not actually fornicated yet?” “Dear God, Felicity.”

“I expected that once you and Percy were in agreement about living in sin, you would lean hard into it.”

“And it’s not the most romantic place—I stepped on a cockroach this morning when I got out of bed; did I tell you that?” “I know, I heard you scream. The pitch was remarkable.”

“Dear Lord, you haven’t been a virgin all this while, have you?” “No, but I’m a bit concerned my virginity is starting to grow back.”

Her chin rises. “Do you want my help or not?” “The idea of you helping me with this in any way is upsetting.”

Aside from the chastity, Percy’s and my first stretch of togetherness has been a delirious, gauzy dream. A stupidly picturesque setting with this gorgeous gent, and goddamn I would have had him the first time we kissed in earnest, up to our waists in the Aegean Sea, but for the fact that I had recently lost half my hearing and the whole of my ear, and I was not in a state that was conducive to any sort of strenuous and prolonged physical activity. And when it does happen, I intend it to be strenuous and prolonged and deeply physical.

“I’m not as handsome as you, remember? People don’t throw themselves at me.” “I’ve been throwing myself at you for years,” I said. “It’s your own damn fault you never noticed.”

“Yes, I would like to stay in with you for the very specific reasons for which you designed this deception,” he says. “As upsetting as I find it that Felicity is involved.”

Dear Lord, I am sincerely competing with food for his attention?

Or perhaps it’s because in the shadowy corners of my heart, I know I’m the sort of person you romp with for one wild night and then you climb out the window before I wake. The sort of person no one wants to be around unless there’s some kind of reward involved, preferably of a sexual nature. Not the sort you bet all your chips on a life with. How long before he realizes that? And how much longer before he regrets wasting his first time on me?

Good, I’ve been reduced to single-word sentences. That will certainly turn him on.

I feel Percy stop behind me, then he says, “I’m disappointed.” Which is so aggressively in tune with my panicked internal monologue that I swear I almost faint. “What? Why?”

Loud, slow seconds tick by, each one a stone dropped onto my chest. I’m going to be pressed to death like a witch, except instead of boulders it will be the weight of my own goddamn issues that kills me.

He raises an eyebrow, an unmistakable tread carefully, and so of course I put on my heaviest boots and start clomping through the flower gardens.

I look around for something sharp I can impale myself upon. Better to fall on my sword now than prolong this slow death.

“I’ll be all right.” “I know you will be,” he says. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

I could lie. But that’s also something I’m trying to do less of. “Richard Peele.” He sucks in his cheeks, then lets out what I think is meant to be a sigh but comes out more like a growl. “No.” “I’m sorry.” “No!” “I’m so sorry!” “I hate Richard Peele.” “WE HATE RICHARD PEELE!” I shout to the sea.

And it’s going to be a disaster. But that’s all right, because we’ll have each other, and there’s no one on this goddamn planet I’d rather be a disaster with than you.”

and I am overwhelmed with how much I love him.

What erotic leaflet did you pick up that filthy vocabulary from?”

“If you thought I was ignorant as to the nature of your relationship with Mr. Newton, you may need to reexamine your concept of appropriate physical fondness between friends.”

He laughs at his own joke, glancing over at me like he’s hoping I might join in. I wonder suddenly if this is what it’s meant to be like, with a father and a son and a first real love. I can’t imagine what this conversation would have been like with my actual father.

“Then maybe I should have said it to you sooner—you needn’t hide around us,” he says. “I’m sorry you ever felt you had to. And that the world makes you feel as though you have to.” I finally manage to look up at him, and he smiles. I almost start to cry. Perhaps he senses it, for he claps a hand against my back brusquely, then stands.

“I love you,” I say quietly. “You know that?” “And I you, my darling boy.”