London
1885
For Lord Everett Stanley, escaping his fate seemed impossible. As the second
son, he’s destined for ordination and the life of a Reverend, but he’s hiding a
dangerous secret. The laws punishing homosexuality by hanging may have been
repealed but he and others of his kind are far from safe. Given no other
choice, they take solace in the underground molly houses of London. Now that
fragile world is threatened when the East End is rocked by a series of gruesome
murders.
Inspector Archibald Franklin worked hard to overcome his working-class roots,
making a name for himself as a respected inspector of Whitechapel’s H Division,
but when he begins to investigate the deaths of several beautiful young men,
fate throws him into the path of the handsome and enigmatic Lord Stanley. His
gut instinct tells him the young lord knows more about the murders than he lets
on, but the closer he gets, the more Everett calls to him in a way he’s tried
to deny his whole life.
As a reign of terror grips London, they are drawn together in order to stop a
monster, but for Archie, the growing feelings he has for Everett are a betrayal
of the very laws he has sworn to uphold. And as the killer closes in, the two
men find themselves bound together by a passion that may be their ultimate
salvation or their utter destruction…
Ripper Street meets Penny Dreadful in this thrilling forbidden
love story set against a gritty backdrop of the Victorian East End of London.
Welcome to the Underside...
Book
1
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The streets were still dark as Charlie left the house in Islington. The first pale strains of pre-dawn would soon illuminate the grimy streets with an eerie glow, but for the moment there was a peaceful stillness, almost as if the world were holding its breath.
Waiting…
His arse ached pleasantly with every step, and his well-used cock was sore against the rough material of his trousers. The hour was late by the time the Colonel had finished with him. Not that Charlie was complaining, he always enjoyed his time with the vigorous older man. The colonel was a rough but generous lover.
In fact, he’d enjoyed himself so thoroughly he’d missed the last tram back and there was no chance of him reaching his lodgings before they locked the doors. With no alternative available, he’d spent a few hours kipping on a chaise in the parlour, knowing that his lordship wouldn’t mind. It was why Lord Francis had purchased the house in Islington, so boys like him would have a safe place to indulge without risking trawling through Hyde Park. They weren’t prostitutes by any means, most of the young men such as himself were gainfully employed elsewhere.
His Lordship gave them a place to indulge their needs and no money ever changed hands, unlike some of the other Molly houses in London. The house in Islington was one of the safer places he knew of, with entry by invitation only. It minimised the risk, but they still had to be careful. The magistrates may have stopped hanging his kind but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t serve hard time if he was caught by the peelers.
He pulled his collar tight. The damp chill of the early hours seemed to sink right into his bones, causing him to shudder. Hurrying down the narrow misty street, he felt another shiver skitter down his spine on sly, spindly fingers– only this time, it wasn’t from the cold.
He stopped and turned back to look, certain someone was following him. His eyes narrowed but all he could see was the foggy, dim street behind him. With a small frown, he turned and hurried on; he didn’t have the time to dawdle as he had a fair distance to cover before dawn. The trams wouldn’t be running this early and his employer would not take kindly to his late arrival.
Focusing on the uneven cobbles beneath his feet, he turned down a darkened alley. There was more than a bite to the air, which probably meant snow before long. His fingers were already stiffening as he clutched the collar of his coat to ward off the cold.
He reached the end of the alley and turned, drawing up short when he found an abandoned hand-drawn cart. Frowning, Charlie glanced around, unable to see anyone as another bank of low-lying fog rolled across the road. Approaching the cart cautiously, he peered into the back and, to his confusion, saw a fair-sized crate, open and lined with hay, the lid propped against its side. Beside it was a small hammer and a pile of iron nails.
Deciding it was none of his business, he turned sharply and found himself colliding with a heavy chest. Charlie stumbled back a pace, his gaze skimming the man he’d collided with. He was a giant, standing almost two heads taller than Charlie, with shoulders so wide, Charlie doubted he’d be able to fit through a doorway without turning sideways. His hands were huge, his fingers thick and his knuckles dusted with wiry black hair.
Charlie’s gaze was drawn slowly upwards, past the man’s worn woollen coat to his thick neck, a jaw covered with a coarse, dark stubble, and lips set in a thin line. The rest of his face was cast into shadow by the brim of his shabby bowler hat.
“Pardon me, sir,” Charlie muttered as he attempted to step around the huge fellow.
The stranger simply stepped with him and continued to block his path. A small flutter of panic beat against Charlie’s ribs as he sucked in a breath and attempted to step to the opposite side, but once again the silent and unnerving giant moved into his path.
“Sir.” Charlie squared his narrow shoulders, holding his spine ramrod straight so as not to betray his unease. “Please stand aside.”
The man did not move, nor did he speak. Charlie felt cold fear trickle down his spine, as if he’d been doused by icy shards of winter rain.
“Shall I call out for the constable? I passed one not one street back and he was heading in this direction,” he lied, trying to present a confidence and authority he did not have.
For a second, they stood together, locked in silence. Then, just when Charlie was contemplating making a run for it, the giant stepped aside. Swallowing, he gave the man a curt nod and moved past. He barely got two steps away when he felt one of those huge arms wrap around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled and cried out as a cloth was pressed over his mouth, muffling his frantic yell for help. A cloying scent filled his nose and mouth. The world around him began to spin and the cobbles tilted beneath his feet. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp as everything turned black.
He didn’t feel a thing as he was picked up like a rag doll, nor did he stir when his slight frame was tucked into the crate. He didn’t register the lid lowering nor the ominous knocking as the nails sealed it shut.
In fact, there was no one, as the first pale rays of dawn began to break through the fog, to notice the enormous brute of a man slinging the leather strap over his wide shoulders and picking up the handles to drag the small cart behind him down the empty street in silence.
Reviews by the
Wicked Reads Review Team
Erica
– ☆☆☆
Molly Boys is the first installment in the London Underside series by
Vawn Cassidy, a new-to-me author.
Set in the Victorian era London. The dark and gloomy setting lent well to the
mystery unfolding on the pages. A serial killer is ravaging the area, reminiscent
of Jack the Ripper but the victim profile were molly boys instead.
Lord Everett Stanley collides paths with Inspector Archibald Franklin.
Opposites attract. Lost and aimless, Ev is highborn, while Archie is of a lower
class, working hard to provide himself with a better life.
Archie is investigating a series of murders and assumes Ev knows more than he's
letting on. The more time they spend together, the more Archie wants to know
about Ev.
Molly Boys isn't a romance per se, definitely focused on the mystery to
be solved, but it does have a secondary plot of romance. While they balance one
another, I did feel as if their romance was far too fast, insta-love from
pretty much the time they met. I need more intensity, more buildup, in order to
believe they grew together. The plot itself and all the points of view, it took
away from witnessing their growing connection. I didn't feel as if Ev grew much
throughout the novel, still aimless and wandering, while Archie stayed the same
as well – focused and logical.
While the mystery was written well, I am not a fan of numerous points-of-view.
In fact, one of my biggest pet peeves is when I get a bird’s eye view into the
villain's head, including their motivations. I enjoy the story unfolding from
the main character's perspective as he uncovers the mystery. I don't wish to
know things he doesn't, rather learning with him. I find too many points of
view to be a distraction, detracting from the plot. Chaotic. I feel split
between too many narrators to truly develop an emotional connection to any of
them.
What I found out of nowhere was the paranormal element, which left me more
baffled than intrigued. It didn't fit, especially without any foreshadowing
throughout the novel, just tucked in there at the ending. The paranormal
elements needed to be rooted much earlier, seeded at the beginning of the
novel. It was as if the author couldn't decide which genre the series should
be.
I enjoyed the setting and era, the dark and gritty mystery. I didn't connect to
either Ev or Archie, nor was I a fan of the pacing and reveal of information,
particularly with so many points of view. The paranormal element was baffling.
Unsure if I will continue with the series, I am willing to try more by this
author to decide if we're a good fit – writing style versus reading style.
VAWN CASSIDY is the M/M pen name of
British author Wendy Saunders, as Vawn she writes contemporary and paranormal
MM romance. She has a deep love of history and the supernatural. Inspired by
the Victorian era and classic gothic literature, it has been a real labor of
love for her to create an LGBTQ+ gothic romance series.
Connect with Vawn
Cassidy
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Instagram ~ TikTok ~ Website ~ Goodreads
Facebook
Group: Cassidy's Bay Boys
Hosted by
Reviewers on the Wicked Reads Review Team were provided
a free copy of Molly Boys (London Underside #1) by Vawn Cassidy to read and
review.
