Ollie’s brows were lowered, his cupid’s bow mouth pressed into a thin, almost disapproving line. Why did he look so annoyed? Perhaps George's toast had disappointed him, or perhaps George hadn’t talked to the other guests enough, or pandered to Ollie’s new father-in-law sufficiently. But whatever it was, George found, somewhat to his surprise, that he didn’t much care.
Another half dozen toasts were proposed before that part of the proceedings came to an end. Finally, though, the footmen reappeared to clear away the dessert course dishes.
That was when Theo leaned closer to George and murmured, "Are you ready to leave?” His breath was warm against George’s ear, and George shivered at the sensation, hunching his shoulder a little and casting a glance at Theo. Their faces were close, and when their eyes met, George couldn’t look away. Couldn’t even remember the question.
“Sorry?” he breathed.
Theo's chuckle was quiet. “Shall we go?” he whispered. “You look like you’ve had enough, and I know I have.”
George glanced about the room. The guests all sat at their places, politely waiting. He opened his mouth to suggest to Theo that they should only leave once their hosts had signalled the meal was at an end, but then he glanced at Hewitt. The man didn't look as though he was going to bring matters to a close any time soon. He was holding forth on some topic to his long-suffering neighbours, enjoying the sound of his own voice.
For the second time that day, George decided he wasn’t going to do the right thing.
“Yes,” he said firmly, meeting Theo’s gaze. “I’m more than ready to leave.”
11
THEO
George allowed Theo to take charge of their leave-taking, hovering behind him as he approached Mr. and Mrs. Hewitt.
“Unfortunately, Sherrington and I have to leave now,” he began smoothly, “but thank you for your kind hospitality. It’s been a memorable day.”
“Surely you are not leaving already?” Mr. Hewitt exclaimed. He craned his neck, trying to peer around Theo to where George stood behind him. “It’s early still, and we've not had a chance to speak, my lord!”
Theo shifted to block his view again. “I’m afraid we must,” he said firmly before George could speak. He was determined that George, who could be soft-hearted, would not be browbeaten into staying.
Hewitt grumbled for a while longer, but Theo held his ground, not even offering an explanation for their departure, and eventually, Hewitt grudgingly subsided.
They approached the bridal couple next, and, unlike her father, the new Mrs. Fletcher, made no protest over their departure. She thanked them both profusely for attending, then George specifically for his toast. She seemed, Theo thought, like a pleasant young woman. As she spoke to George, she clasped her hands at her breast, her eyes shining with sincerity. He hoped she wouldn’t be made unhappy by her marriage to Fletch.
Fletch wasn’t even looking at her. He was watching George, his expression faintly wounded, and when his new wife stopped talking, he said tightly, “I thought you’d have stayed a little longer than this, Sherry. By God, you’re the first to leave!”
Poor George looked mortified. He clearly didn’t know how to reply, and Theo decided not to give him the chance. Instead, he leapt into the fray with yet more jovial congratulations, seizing Fletch’s hand and pumping it up and down so vigorously the man visibly winced.
“You're a lucky man, Fletch,” he said at last, “We’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your celebration with your lovely new wife.” And with that, he deftly shepherded George towards the door and hustled him out of the room.
When they finally got outside, and began their walk back to Mayfair, Theo began to laugh.
“Did you see Hewitt’s face as we were leaving? I thought he might actually send some of his footmen to apprehend us!”
George chuckled too. “Thank God we managed to escape without me having to talk to him again. Four hours last night was quite enough for one lifetime, thank you.”
Theo saw the tension that had been gripping George all day beginning to seep away. As they continued on their walk, chatting lightly, the grim set of his shoulders began to relax and the tension left his jaw.
“It must feel strange,” Theo said after a while. “You and Fletch—” He broke off at the sight of an older gentleman walking towards them, waiting till they'd passed him before continuing in a lower voice. “The two of you were as thick as thieves for all those years. And now he’s married. That’s a big change.”
“Not so much as you might think,” George said. “We used to be inseparable, it's true, but not for a while now. Before yesterday, I hadn’t seen Ollie in months. And before that it was—” He shook his head. “Hell, I don't even know how long.”
“Well, I wouldn't be surprised if he wants you back at his side now that his bride has been secured.”
“I’m quite sure he does not want that,” George replied.
“If you think that,” Theo said, “you didn't see how he was looking at you when we left.”
George sighed. “You don’t understand. Ollie isn’t… he isn’t like us.”
“In what respect?” Theo asked, though he thought he knew. But good lord, could George still be so damned naïve, after all these years?
