Theo felt a surge of anger on his behalf. Fucking Oliver Fletcher. He just had to get his pound of flesh out of poor George, didn’t he?
“Well,” Theo said, diffidently, “if it would help to have the company of a friend, I’m happy to stay by your side at the wedding breakfast.” He cleared his throat, adding unnecessarily, “Though I realise you might prefer to be alone than have my company.”
George met his gaze, his dark eyes uncertain as he gnawed his lip uncertainly. Theo felt sure George was searching for the words to refuse his impulsive offer, but in the end, he said softly, “I’d appreciate that, thank you. The truth is, I’ve been rather dreading today.”
The relief and pleasure that washed through Theo at George’s words shocked him. What was it about this man that affected him so, with his careful thank-yous and excuse-mes? With his ridiculous, unwarranted politeness in the face of Fletch’s selfish thoughtlessness and Hewitt’s self-regarding monologues. And, hell, Theo was no better than anyone else with his appalling manners and rotten apologies.
George, though—he was always a consummate gentleman. Truly, a gentle man. Theo felt an unexpected and wholly unwanted surge of affectionate exasperation at that thought. All these years since their school days and George hadn’t changed one bit. He still needed to toughen up. Scratch the surface of that reserved mask and you’d find the same boy Theo had first met all those years ago—sweet-tempered and apologetic and far too liable to be taken advantage of.
Well, not today, Theo decided suddenly.
Today, Theo was going to look out for him.
9
GEORGE
The wedding breakfast was taking place at the Hewitts’ townhouse in Marylebone, and George was only too happy to agree to Theo's suggestion that they walk there together, glad to stretch his legs after the long ceremony and to have a little time to gather himself before embarking on the next part of this already interminable day.
“I suppose we should speak to the bride and groom before we go,” he murmured, glancing over at Ollie and his bride. They stood beside a beribboned carriage with Mr. Hewitt, accepting congratulations from a steady stream of guests.
“I suppose so,” Theo agreed without enthusiasm.
They strolled towards the newlyweds, joining the line of waiting guests. As they slowly moved forward, George had ample time to ponder Ollie’s clenched smile and the faint panic in his eyes. Perhaps the permanence of his newly-married state was sinking in.
When they finally reached the bride and groom, Ollie’s expression brightened, and when George put out his hand, murmuring congratulations, Ollie seized it with both of his own. “Sherry,” he said, a little breathlessly. “You came.”
“Of course,” George said, gently tugging his hand out of Ollie’s grasp. “I said I would, didn't I?”
Ollie opened his mouth to speak again, but George was already moving on to the bride, keen to get this over with.
“Mrs. Fletcher,” he said, with smiling emphasis, “my heartfelt congratulations.” He bowed over her hand, and when he straightened again, she was beaming at him.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said happily. “And thank you for coming. It's a great honour to have you as our guest today.”
Theo, who had stepped forward to take George’s place in front of Ollie and was now shaking his hand vigorously, said, “You're a lucky devil, Fletch. Your bride is looking quite lovely.”
Ollie smiled tightly at that, while Cecily pinkened with pleasure.
“Careful, Caldwell,” Hewitt said cheerfully. “No flirting with my daughter—she’s a married woman now, isn’t that right, Fletcher?”
“Quite so,” Ollie said shortly, a slight bite in his voice. Cecily glanced at him warily but Hewitt didn't even notice, because now George was stepping up to greet him, while Theo took his place in front of the bride.
“Lord Sherrington,” Hewitt announced happily, seeming to relish every syllable. “We're delighted you came. Do you have your carriage with you? If not, I’d be delighted to convey you to our humble celebration in my own.”
George was quite sure the wedding breakfast would be anything but humble. “Thank you, Mr. Hewitt,” he said politely, “but Mr. Caldwell and I plan to walk. A little morning air will do us good.”
Hewitt looked briefly disappointed but quickly rallied. “Oh well, just make sure you bring your appetite, my lord. I’ll wager you won’t be disappointed by my table.”
“I’m sure I won't,” George agreed smoothly, grateful for the new guests stepping forward to offer their congratulations, obliging George and Theo to move aside to make way for them.
“That poor girl,” Theo said under his breath as they strolled away. “She’s only been married a quarter hour, and already I see the first doubts setting in.”
George was too busy murmuring greetings to passing acquaintances to reply. But he couldn’t disagree. Ollie had looked positively hunted.
They headed for Marylebone at a strolling pace. The heavy, grey clouds of earlier had dissipated, leaving lighter, wispier ones behind them, through which the sun occasionally peeped.
Every now and again, George found himself glancing at Theo, and each time he did, his gaze tried to linger. Had he really lain back against that broad chest just last night? Felt that big hand stroking his cock? The memory felt both immediate and distant, like something he’d dreamed, and his mouth dried, distant lust stirring in his belly.
