The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

by Cat Sebastian

Lord Holland, if you could be so kind as to keep your attention on your infant sister, if you please?” “I’m afraid I can’t,” Percy said, playing his role. “First of all, that poppet is—” He broke off with a shudder. Marian had found the godforsaken thing in the attics. What she had been doing in the attics was something Percy strongly preferred not to think about. “I believe repellent is not too strong a word.” The doll’s head was carved from wood and painted with pink cheeks, blue eyes, and a rosebud mouth. Glued to its head were strands of yellow silk embroidery thread, which made Percy think that the ghastly thing had been made to resemble a Talbot for the amusement of some long-dead aunt. But between the combined efforts of damp, time, and quite possibly rats, it was more suited to ritual witchcraft than belonging in a civilized nursery. “The poor thing has either leprosy or an advanced case of the pox.” “Don’t listen to him, my darling,” Marian cooed, covering the doll’s moldering ears and pressing a loud kiss to its decayed forehead. Percy wanted to gag. “Secondly,” Percy went on, “if I fix my gaze on the doll, it’ll look like I’m staring at the duchess’s bosom.” Marian’s gown revealed an expanse of décolletage the approximate dimensions of a cricket pitch. “And while I daresay it’s a pleasant enough bosom,” Percy went on, “as far as those things go, I’m afraid I’d rather not be accused of leering at my stepmother.” “You’ve given me the most brilliant idea,” Marian s...