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264 pages, ebook
First published August 11, 2015
"[Your style is excellent] ... for a large and sober man of forty."
"Thirty-six," Lord Richard said.
"Really? I would have said older, but I dare say you know best ...."
"If you can't be happy, then be something else. Be useful, that would be good. Decorative, if you like. Selfish, if you must. Just don't whine about it."
"You've needed a good hard fuck as long as I've known you. Untouchable Julius," [Harry's] tongue flicked out, over Julius' parted lips. "Why hasn't anyone given you a ride before now?"
"Nobody was sufficiently insolent," Julius managed.
While it can’t be denied that this was an excellently written book, I can’t also say that this is Charles’ best book. I expected it to be fast-paced and tension-filled but was kind of let down when I found it more subdued.
The characters were interesting enough, but I found it difficult to connect with them as much as I wanted to. Harry and Julius’ romance lacked chemistry and felt bland. The build-up and UST I was waiting for in a Pygmalion trope didn't live up to expectations.
With the story set during Great Britain’s era of social change and reform, I expected more of the plot to focus on the bigger things – politics, corruption, social injustice and oppression – but only saw these more pronounced toward the end of the book. The story, rather, gravitated on Harry’s dilemma – how he can’t choose between two disparate lives. Pacing was slow with a rather abrupt and less detailed resolution, if I can call it even that.
Harry just wasn’t a strong MC to support the story’s great backbone. That being said, I can’t wait to read the second book.
Julius needed fucking, in Harry's opinion, and a lot of it. Biting Harry's shoulder, gasping into his ear, whimpering under his hands and mouth-no wonder he shielded himself against passion, when it undid him so completely. Undid him and made him.
He kissed with such precious care, as if every time was a gift, as if to be together was a small victory to be celebrated.
«In the first novel of an explosive new series from K.J. Charles, a young gentleman and his elegant mentor fight for love in a world of wealth, power, and manipulation.»
“And here’s Mr. Aristocrat Vane, the clothes on your back enough to feed a family for a month, I’ll be bound, come crying to me because you’ve squabbled with a fop over a pink coat. Because you’ve sold yourself and you don’t like the price. Is that the best you can do?”
‘...Julius felt Harry’s words fit to his mind like the wood to his palm.
I love you.
“Pygmalion had an easier task than I. His Galatea was carved from stone. She had no memories, and no past to be cut away.”
No, I don’t want to be sober and restrained
{like his older Vane cousin}. I want to be beautiful. Bright. Confident. Perfect. I want to be you.
he thinks of his mentor, Julius, lusting and admiring and trying so hard to please:
“Again. No. With grace.”
Harry bowed hopelessly, a clumsy movement. “I don’t feel graceful.”
“Of course you don’t. You aren’t. You resemble a cart horse attempting to caracole. Very well, stop.”
And everything he hated, the saliva, the fleshiness, the taste of other people’s food and breath and teeth and sweat, was here. Harry’s skin was as flawed as anyone’s close up. He had wide pores and what looked like red pinpricks, hairs in his nostrils and the sharp brown points of stubble, the first hints of what would be wrinkles when he aged, and stray hairs under his thick brows that could have been plucked away. He was imperfect flesh, like any man, and Julius buried himself in that imperfection because it was alive.
“When my namesake, the great Caesar, rode in triumph,” Julius said, “he was accompanied by a slave whose role was to whisper to him, You are but mortal. To remind him he was merely a man who would one day die like any other.
If I could, I should have you at my side to remind me that I am alive, because I have not felt alive in so damned long, and with you, I do. No, I don’t want you to marry, any more than I want you to return to your dirty democrats. I want to show you the world, and see you smile, and keep you with me while my soul grows back. Don’t gape like that.”
“It’s not that. I’ve made such a mess of matters and to embroil you any further—You know I love you. I don’t want to entangle you.”
“The problem is, you already have.” Julius’s fingers twined with his hair, “You have entangled me so thoroughly that I doubt I shall ever be satisfied with solitude again. I am well aware that you are storm-tossed, my dear. I merely wish that you will permit me to give you a port when you need it.”
He kissed Harry, gently. “And I have rarely seen a more precious sight that you lying like a mountebank to save your friend.”
“What?”
“Utterly shameless.” Julius kissed him again. “Quite magnificent. I was proud to stand with you. And talking of stands…” He moved his mouth to Harry’s ear. “Next time you wish to lie to agents of the Crown, I insist you let me watch.”