Excerpt from Landfalls by Naomi J. Williams, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Webber looks up, then turns his chair toward his guest and leans back in it with his long legs stretched out. "I'm happy if my experiences can actually be useful," he says. "Most people who ask me about the voyage only want to know if I met cannibals or slept with native women."

"Did you?"

Webber laughs. "No. Are you disappointed?"

A servant brings in plates of dried fruit and nuts and a bottle of port. Then it's nearly midnight, and Monneron is so relaxed and languid that when Webber invites him to stay the night, he allows himself to be led upstairs without protest.

Bolts of Silk

Some inchoate compunction alarms him into wakefulness, and without the fermented apple smell and watermarked ceiling of Mrs. Towe's, he can't at first place where he is. He turns over in the bed to make sure he's alone, and relieved on that point, remembers: Oxford Street, Webber, shopping, fishhooks, a bottle of port. A clock somewhere chimes nine, much later than he usually rises. He dresses quickly and heads down the stairs, but stops on the landing, accosted by a life-size oil of James Cook. He remembers again what Banks said about Webber's portraiture, and this time he sees it: a disproportion of parts, the head oddly simian, the wig looking outgrown and pinched, torso and thighs too thin, left hand too large for the arm above it, feet hidden behind a rock as if Webber didn't know how to render them. The late captain may not look savage, exactly, but he does lack dignity.

"Good morning, Mr. Monneron." The manservant appears at the bottom of the stairs. "Mr. Webber is in his dressing room and says you may join him there if you'd like."

No, he would not like, Monneron thinks, remembering the nonchalance with which Webber undressed before him yesterday. "I will wait for him in the library, if that is all right," he says.

Webber arrives five minutes later, dressed for another outing. "Monneron—breakfast before heading out?"

Monneron gets up with effort, suddenly exhausted by Webber's generosity, his indefatigable energy, the boundlessness of the man.

Webber cocks his head to one side. "Did you not sleep well?"

Monneron rallies himself to remember why he's there: the expedition, the minister, Monsieur de Lapérouse. He still needs Webber's knowledge, but only for one more day. "I slept very well, thank you," he says. "Breakfast sounds wonderful." He wills himself not to look away when he sees the relief on Webber's face.

After breakfast they venture into the city in a hired coach Webber has retained for the day. The artist has worked out exactly where to go, beginning at a notions shop for beads; then a foundry on Thames Street for unworked iron bars and copper sheeting; several grocers for samples of bouillon tablets, molasses, salts, preserved walnuts—all used as antiscorbutics on the Resolution; a brewers for spruce beer and essence of malt, a sickly sweet decoction Webber assures him is palatable when mixed with water or tea; and finally, back to Oxford Street for a fabric shop. Only then does Monneron understand that they have circumscribed a long, serpentine loop around London, a loop that will return him again to Webber's home for the night.

"Reserve these gifts for island royalty," Webber is telling him as he browses the display of silks and fine linens. "They're quite partial to red and gold—look at this, Monneron."

He holds out a bolt of silk taffeta, deep crimson shot through with gold thread. Monneron runs his hand over the fabric; its smoothness and color remind him of a well-dressed friend of his mother who visited Annonay one summer and was quite free with her favors. He has to clear his throat before saying, "It is exquisite," and when he looks up at Webber's smiling, oddly knowing face, he can feel himself flush. He turns away, oppressed by the man's nearness.

Excerpted from Landfalls by Naomi J Williams. Copyright © 2015 by Naomi J Williams. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.