For a few moments, Theo eyed the back of George’s dark head, then he set his shoulders back and slid into the pew beside him.
“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, when George turned to him. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you.”
George’s eyes widened briefly, but he quickly schooled his face into that cool mask Theo was already becoming used to.
“Does it matter if I mind?” he said evenly.
Theo raised his brows. “Is that your way of asking me to sit somewhere else?”
“Not at all,” George said stiffly. "This is a church—it’s hardly up to me where you may or may not sit.”
Theo bit back a smile. George was so damned appealing, even when, like now, he was a little on his dignity. Maybe especially.
“You know, George,” he said gently, “you can tell me to sit somewhere else if you want. You don't need to be so polite.”
George frowned at him. “I’m not being polite.”
“Aren't you? Even at school you were a bit too gentlemanly for this world. Especially to boors like me who didn’t deserve your manners.”
“You think you were a boor at school?”
“I know I was. I teased you quite a bit.”
George shrugged. "All the older boys teased the younger ones. It’s just how things were.”
“Still,” Theo said, “If I ever you upset you, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t upset me,” George said shortly. Then after a pause, he added, “Well, other than that time you hid my copy of The Metamorphosis and couldn’t remember where you put it. I never did get that back.”
Theo’s neck heated. He’d forgotten that particular incident. “You probably won’t believe me,” he said, “but I didn’t tease you to be vile—in my idiot mind I was trying to help you.”
“Help me,” George echoed doubtfully.
“Yes,” Theo said. “You were always a bit, well, prissy. I was trying to get you to be more manly.”
George stared at him, plainly unimpressed with this explanation.
Theo sighed. “Yes, I know. I was an idiot. I just thought you needed to toughen up.” When George remained silent, he added, “I still do, to be honest. People are still taking advantage of you—look at how Hewitt monopolised you last night.”
George scowled at that and looked away, and Theo inwardly slapped his own forehead. What was he babbling about? He opened his mouth to apologise, but just then, the church began to quiet. Moments later, the bride and her attendants entered the church and began slowly making their way down the aisle to the altar, where, Theo now saw, Fletch was waiting with Piers.
Miss Hewitt looked very well. Her fair hair was plaited and pinned in an elaborate style, and her dainty figure seemed to float along in a cloud of pink and white, all silk and gossamer. She wore creamy pearls at her ears, around her throat, and in her hair.
When she reached the altar, the Dean began to speak. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…”
And so it went on, in the old familiar vein. Unsurprisingly, no one knew of any impediment why the bride and groom ought not to be lawfully joined together, and the bride’s father was, it seemed, only too happy to giveth his daughter to Oliver Fletcher in holy matrimony. The vows were exchanged, though in voices too low to be heard by any guests sitting as far back as Theo and George. Prayers followed, then a psalm, then the usual Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us chorus before the Dean droned his way through a short sermon about procreation and spousal duties which made the state of holy matrimony sound even more unappealing to Theo than it had before. He was more than ready to leave the church by then, but apparently, they had to sit through holy communion as well.
Through it all, George gazed quietly ahead. His expression was outwardly calm, but Theo could sense the tension in him, and see it occasionally too, in the grip of his hand on the prayer book, in the hard set of his jaw.
When all the sermonising was done, the bride and groom walked down the aisle towards the church doors, the bride beaming, the groom carrying a faint air of panic about him. Fletch looked right at George when he passed their pew. Theo wanted to look at George too, to see if he was meeting Fletch’s searching gaze, but he resisted the urge, and a moment later, the happy couple had passed, moving on towards the church entrance.
Once the bridal party had left the church, the other guests began to stir, getting up from their pews and strolling down the aisle, chattering amiably.
Theo stood, but George stayed where he was, unmoving. Theo set a careful hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said gently. “Just the wedding breakfast to get through now. You can probably leave after you’ve shown face for an hour or so.” That’s what Theo would do if he was in George’s position.
Hell, he still might do that.
George rose to his feet. “I said I’d give a toast,” he said wearily. “So, I’ll have to stay till that’s done at least.”
