An Unseen Attraction

Book 1: Sins of the Cities

by KJ Charles

Genres: LGBT Gay; Victorian Romance

Synopsis

A slow-burning romance and a chilling mystery bind two singular men in the suspenseful first book of a new Victorian series from K. J. Charles.

Lodging-house keeper Clem Talleyfer prefers a quiet life. He’s happy with his hobbies, his work—and especially with his lodger Rowley Green, who becomes a friend over their long fireside evenings together. If only neat, precise, irresistible Mr. Green were interested in more than friendship. . . .

Rowley just wants to be left alone—at least until he meets Clem, with his odd, charming ways and his glorious eyes. Two quiet men, lodging in the same house, coming to an understanding . . . it could be perfect. Then the brutally murdered corpse of another lodger is dumped on their doorstep and their peaceful life is shattered.

Now Clem and Rowley find themselves caught up in a mystery, threatened on all sides by violent men, with a deadly London fog closing in on them. If they’re to see their way through, the pair must learn to share their secrets—and their hearts.

Don’t miss any of the captivating Sins of the Cities novels:
AN UNSEEN ATTRACTION | AN UNNATURAL VICE | AN UNSUITABLE HEIR

And look for the enticing Society of Gentlemen series by KJ Charles:
THE RUIN OF GABRIEL ASHLEIGH | A FASHIONABLE INDULGENCE | A SEDITIOUS AFFAIR | A GENTLEMAN’S POSITION

Praise for An Unseen Attraction

“A particular pleasure of [K. J.] Charles’s work is spending time with her articulate (and often scathing) protagonists, who skewer their interlocutors and make agonizing admissions with fluency that is a joy to behold. Now, in contrast, comes Clem. . . . Rowley has no problem with words; he simply chooses not to reveal his well-armored heart. What they see in each other is a generosity of spirit revealed in everyday gestures.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“K. J. Charles is a superb storyteller and has once again crafted both an intriguing and engrossing story and a tender romance between two well-drawn protagonists whose unique personality traits inform their emotional and sexual relationships. Add to that the way she so thoroughly immerses the reader in the sights, sounds and smells of Victorian London, and the strong cast of secondary characters—some of whom will star in future books—and it’s fair to say that she’s got another winning series on her hands.”—All About Romance

Includes an excerpt from another Loveswept title.

Release date: February 21, 2017

Publisher: Loveswept

Print pages: 247

Sample

Chapter 1 28

OCTOBER, 1873

Lugtrout was drunk again.

Clem Talleyfer contemplated him with a sense of weary resignation. It wasn’t that he minded Lugtrout, much, except for the way he flouted the house rules with that casual contempt, because he could, or when he went into one of his occasional rants of repentance and salvation in between drinking bouts. And he did hate Lugtrout’s way of looking into a fellow’s eyes for too long. He’d do that, stare until your eyes watered and your shoulder blades itched, and it made Clem tense uncontrollably. He’d always disliked people doing that. Look me in the eyes, boy! had been a constant refrain at school, but they said the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Clem didn’t feel comfortable peering into people’s windows.

In fact, he minded Lugtrout very much indeed. But there was no getting around it, the man lived here and would not be moving. Other lodgers came and went; Lugtrout stayed forever.

Mr. Green had come, and he’d be coming back tonight. The thought sneaked in without Clem noticing it. It was quarter to nine, and a grisly, drizzly late October evening. Mr. Green shouldn’t be working so late. He’d hurt his eyes doing that in the gaslight, his brown-green eyes the colour of spring woodland pierced by sunlight under the thick glass of his wire-rimmed spectacles. Clem didn’t object to looking into Mr. Green’s eyes at all.

Lugtrout made a half-choked hacking sound as though dislodging something horrible in his throat. If he spat it onto the rug, Clem was going to . . . well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he’d be furious.

He had to deal with Lugtrout now or the man would make the parlour uninhabitable for the other lodgers all evening with his snuffling and snoring, and probably wake half the house stumbling and ranting up to bed in the small hours. Talleyfer’s offered lodgings for skilled artisans, and also Lugtrout, and all the workers rose early, especially in winter, when daylight was precious. Nobody would be happy to be disturbed at midnight.

Clem moved, reluctantly, over to the settle on which the drunkard snored, and gave his shoulder a tentative shake. “Mr. Lugtrout? Up you get. Come on, you can’t sleep here.”

Lugtrout gargled, his damp lips moving soundlessly. Clem made himself shake the man’s shoulder again, hating the feel of greasy serge against his fingers. “Come on, Mr. Lugtrout.”

“Piss off,” Lugtrout mumbled, without opening his eyes. “Nancy bitch.”

He wasn’t a particularly large man, about Clem’s own five foot ten but lanky with it except for a potbelly. Nevertheless, Clem had wrestled him upstairs before now, and knew it wasn’t an easy or enjoyable task. He tugged unavailingly at the fellow’s arm, trying to step back for purchase, and found the little table behind him in the way. “Blast it. Get up.”

“Oh, dear.”

The voice, quiet and wry, came from behind Clem. He turned a little too quickly, almost stumbling over the little table behind him, to see Mr. Green in the doorway. “Oh, good morning. Evening.”

“Good evening. I see Mr. Lugtrout’s up to the old work.” Mr. Green came forward. He was a small man, standing four or five inches shorter than Clem; compact, neat, and incredibly precise in his movements. He reminded Clem of the house sparrows that clustered on the eaves, brighteyed and watching. “Could you use a hand?”

“Oh, yes please,” Clem said fervently. It wasn’t just the fact of assistance with Lugtrout, welcome though that was; it was the way Mr. Green offered help. Didn’t ignore; didn’t insist; simply offered, and would go away if he was told no. It wasn’t Clem’s favourite thing about him, but only because of the stiff competition.

“Well. If you put your foot against his . . .” Mr. Green demonstrated, bracing his foot sideways against Lugtrout’s dirty shoe, and waited until Clem had successfully copied the movement. “Hold on, let me move the table. Right. Crouch a little—a little more, you need your weight low—and take both arms. Now pull.”

Clem pulled. Lugtrout came forward surprisingly easily and surprisingly fast, enough to send Clem stumbling back. Mr. Green was behind him as if he’d predicted that would happen, hands pushing against Clem’s back. They felt extremely cold, even through Clem’s jacket and waistcoat. He had never yet seen Mr. Green light the little stove in the workshop next door, and didn’t like to think of how cold he’d be getting this winter.

Mr. Green stepped away as Clem regained his balance. Lugtrout was slumped against him, mumbling in a bleary, belligerent way. He stank of gin, and as Clem turned his face away in disgust, Lugtrout began to slip downward.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Green said. Clem wasn’t sure what he did, but Lugtrout gave a bellow of sudden pain and jolted upright. Clem grabbed him to stop him losing his balance.

“D’you know who I am?” Lugtrout slurred. “I’m a man of the cloth. How dare you manhandle a servant of the Church, you arsehole?”

“There’s a bottle of gin in your room, isn’t there?” Mr. Green said. “Come, let’s go up and find you a drink.”

Clem opened his mouth to protest that Mr. Lugtrout had had quite enough, but Mr. Green caught his eye and gave a tiny head shake. “Let’s have a glass, Reverend. Up to your room. Come. Could you give him a shoulder, Mr. Talleyfer?” He waited for Clem to get under Lugtrout’s arm, took the other with an encouraging tug, and they got the man up to his room on the second floor with hardly an upset. He was snoring within seconds of being pushed onto the bed.

Mr. Green waved Clem into the corridor and shut the door with a gentle click. “There. With luck we won’t see any more of him for the evening.”

“Hope so,” Clem said fervently. “Thank you. He’s not the easiest to handle in his cups.”

“Well, drunks.” Mr. Green made a face. “My father drank.”

“Oh.” That was wildly inadequate, but Clem couldn’t think of a better response. “Uh, would you like a cup of tea?”

Mr. Green smiled at him, that quick smile of his. Clem loved that smile. It was always a twopart movement: his lips widened for a second, then twitched tight, as if he were blowing a kiss. “I’d love a cup of tea.”

They settled in Clem’s little study. He had two rooms together as part of the arrangement by which he lived in and ran the house; neither was large, but the space was quite enough for him. Two comfortable chairs stood by the fire, and Mr. Green took his usual one as Clem busied himself putting the kettle on. Cat padded silently over and jumped onto Mr. Green’s lap, as he always did.

Mr. Green had moved in eight months ago, at the same time as he’d taken the shop next door. Clem had been a little nervous about his occupation, naturally, and some of the other lodgers had complained about the prospect of smells or general oddness, but it had taken about a week for him to become a natural part of the house, as though he’d been here forever. A quiet, civil presence at the table, his interjections rare but always reasonable; silent in the small hours; never making trouble or leaving mess. Polly, Clem’s housekeeper, who had expressed her fixed intention to hand in her notice if she had to deal with any evidence of Mr. Green’s profession, now served him the choicest portions at every meal and considered him the very perfection of lodgers.

So did Clem. Mr. Green, with his tow-coloured hair, his shifting hazel eyes, his swift movements, and his silence. Mr. Green, who never shouted and was never impatient. Mr. Green, who now came to Clem’s little parlour for a cup of tea almost every night Clem was in, so that their meetings had become a fixed point, the reward to which he looked forward all day.

Clem needed to stop thinking about Mr. Green as much as he did.