George nodded. “Yes, summers at Dinsford Park were always tremendous.”
Glancing at Miss Hewitt, Ollie said, “Over the summers, Piers and I were allowed to have a school friend each to visit for a few weeks. Piers would always have Caldwell, and I’d have Sherry.”
“That sounds nice,” Miss Hewitt said, a little wistfully.
“Oh, yes,” Ollie said. “Endless japes, wasn’t it, Sherry?”
It really had been.
Not that George said as much. He just smiled and murmured, “Oh, yes, endless.”
Those early summers had been particularly memorable, when Piers and Theo used to spend the long days with him and Ollie. Back then, George had cherished almost any attention he got from the older boy he secretly hero-worshipped. But once Piers and Theo reached the grand old age of sixteen, they’d decided that Ollie and George were too young to be allowed to hang on their coattails. They’d begun sneaking off to drink cider and flirt with the village girls, sending George and Ollie away whenever they tried to follow.
And then Ollie had begun to look at George differently, and everything had changed.
Just then, George noticed a familiar figure—Piers Fletcher—striding across the drawing room towards Theo.
“Caldwell!” he called, having evidently just caught sight of his old friend. “Good to see you, man!” George watched the two men greet one another, but, as always, it was Theo rather than Piers to whom George's gaze was drawn. Piers was a perfectly pleasant-looking gentleman, but Theo was handsome, tall and broad with thick chestnut hair and a wide, glinting smile like a gentleman pirate. Watching him now, George felt all of fifteen years old again.
How mortifying.
Theo and Piers spoke for a few moments, then, much to George’s dismay, Piers gestured in George and Ollie’s direction, and Theo turned towards them.
Alarmingly, his gaze went straight to George, and for a long, airless moment, their gazes tangled before Theo inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement. George swallowed, hard. His heart was racing, and his stomach twisted with an unfamiliar excitement he had not felt for a long, long time.
Several beats passed before he realised, quite suddenly, that he'd forgotten to keep his expression under control. Panic gripped him at the realisation, and he looked sharply away, schooling his features into impassivity as he wondered whether any of his thoughts had shown on his face. Christ, he hoped not. He mustn't let himself lapse like that. He was not a giddy schoolboy any more, overwhelmed by his forbidden attraction to an older, and decidedly uninterested, boy.
He must make sure that when he spoke to Caldwell—as he must surely do at some point this evening—there was no trace of that overeager boy.
Only the composed, polite gentleman he had striven to become.
4
THEO
Dinner was an exceedingly lavish—and exceedingly dull—affair.
Hewitt’s footmen, all done up in matching livery, brought out vast quantities of food for the guests. Everything was of the very best quality and served on the finest porcelain and silverware.
Theo was seated midway down the long table, between a great-aunt of the bride-to-be’s, who didn’t contribute a word to the conversation but spent the whole dinner smiling beatifically at every word her neighbours said, and a garrulous young matron who twittered endlessly about the social events she had attended this season.
By the time the footmen were clearing away the last of the dessert course, hours had passed, but soon, hopefully, the ladies would rise for tea in the drawing room while the gentlemen took their port. That was the point at which Theo intended to make his excuses and leave for somewhere considerably more entertaining.
Annoyingly, even as he dreamed of his imminent escape, his gaze kept wandering back to George Asquith who was seated at the top of the table beside Mr. Hewitt, a place of honour that Fletch’s mother should rightfully have had. Theo glanced at Lady Fletcher who was sitting two places further down from George, her slightly receding chin held high, thin lips pressed together in a disapproving line. She looked as though she didn’t know whether she should be more offended at being usurped or relieved at not having to make conversation all evening with a man she clearly considered her inferior. For his part, Hewitt seemed happily oblivious to her displeasure. He was in his element, monopolising George, who was, of course, listening politely as the man talked, and talked, and talked his ear off.
Poor George, Theo thought, biting back a rueful smile. It seemed he was still as absurdly well-mannered as he'd been at school. In that respect, he hadn’t changed a bit, though he had certainly done so physically. At school, he’d been tall and slender, but he’d filled out since then. His frame was still lean, but his shoulders were broader now. And his face, which had been all soft doe eyes and delicate features, was more masculine, with high cheekbones and a firm chin. But there was still something about it that was a little uncertain, a little wary.
All in all, George struck as Theo as being even more reserved than he used to be, and he'd never been what one would call outgoing. Now, though, his expression was positively guarded, and his smile did not quite reach his eyes. Earlier in the evening, the talkative young matron beside Theo had confided that she’d been introduced to George before dinner and had found him “very stiff and proud-seeming”. Theo had been surprised. It hadn’t sounded like the boy he remembered from their schooldays, but now, having watched him throughout dinner, he could see how some might interpret his careful, reserved expression as haughty.
And then there was the fact that, when their gazes had met earlier, George hadn’t even offered Theo so much as a nod.
Was it possible he had changed?
There were some things about him that were definitely unchanged. His eyes were still unfathomably dark and absurdly long-lashed. And his mouth was as soft and full as it had ever been. His mouth was… well, on another man, it might be considered wicked.
Realising he was staring, Theo hastily returned his gaze to his table companions. The elderly lady was beaming and nodding at her other neighbour while the young matron waxed lyrical about some ball she’d attended a few evenings before. Theo tried to feign interest in what she was saying, but it was only a minute or two before his gaze wandered back to George again.
Hewitt was still talking. Had he stopped even for a moment since they sat down? Poor George was beginning to look a little worn around the edges, casting a glance around the dining room, as though searching for a way out. His gaze paused on an oblivious Fletch for several long moments before he reluctantly returned his attention to Hewitt.
