“Ollie—” George said wearily, but Ollie was already striding towards the door.
“Next time I want to call upon you, I’ll be sure to make an appointment in advance,” he said waspishly. “That way you can decide if you’re prepared to receive me before I come and save us both a lot of unnecessary bother.” And with that, he slammed out of the room.
George stared after him, hurt by that parting comment. As though he’d ever refused to see Ollie, or ever would. And God, what must Theo be thinking? He must be regretting inviting George to go away with him now.
But when he glanced at Theo, the man looked very far from regretful. His eyes brimmed with amusement and he had his lips rolled between his teeth, as though trying to keep in his laughter.
George shook his head at him. “It’s not funny,” he said, though already, incredibly, he felt a stirring of amusement in his own belly.
Theo spluttered a laugh then. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “But he only got married yesterday, and instead of lying in bed with his new bride, he’s here, throwing a tantrum over you having the temerity to go for a walk with someone else without his permission.”
“That’s not why he came,” George said, his tone mildly reproving. “He didn’t even know you’d invited me to go to Wales with you until you arrived.”
Theo’s laughter settled down, but he still wore a broad, amused smile, and God, but he looked so handsome when he smiled like that. George felt his belly tense with awareness.
“Oh, I think I know why he came,” Theo said, his gaze still amused.
“Do you?”
“Don’t you?” Theo retorted, one brow hitching up in inquiry. “Think about it, George. Why do you think Fletch would come here, the morning after his own wedding? Don’t you think that’s rather odd behaviour for a new husband?”
It was odd. George thought back to what Ollie had said when he’d first arrived. “He said he felt bad that we hadn’t had much of a chance to speak yesterday, or at the Hewitts’ dinner. I’m not sure why, though, or why he was so angry when he heard I was going away with you. It makes no sense.”
Theo rolled his lips between his teeth again. After a moment, he said, “That is a mystery.” But the expression on his face suggested he didn’t find it nearly as mysterious as George did. In fact, he seemed rather amused.
George narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but before he could say anything, Theo clapped his hands together in a decisive gesture. “Right then. Are you all packed and ready to go? We really do need to be on our way.”
George’s stomach turned over nervously. No getting out of it now. “Um, yes. More or less.”
“Good,” Theo said. “The first leg of our journey isn’t too demanding, but we’re making a late start, and we’ll want to get to the inn in plenty of time for dinner.” His eyes sparkled and there was something about that look that lit a tiny flame of excitement in George’s belly.
It seemed he was going to Wales after all.
13
GEORGE
Eight hours later, they trotted in to the courtyard of the inn where they would spend the night.
Exhausted to his very bones, George dismounted his horse, a sweet-tempered mare, and led her to the trough at the side of the courtyard to slake her thirst.
Theo was right behind him. He handed the reins of his mount to George. “Are you all right to wait with the horses while I find the innkeeper?”
“Of course,” George said, idly patting the mare’s flank as he watched Theo stride across the courtyard to the front door of the inn.
It was a warm, early summer evening, the sun beginning to soften and lower. The courtyard was steadily busy, with stable hands and patrons coming and going, horses being led in and out of stalls, coaches being loaded and unloaded.
After a few minutes, Theo returned. “The innkeeper is sending some hot water up so we can wash before we eat. Are you ready to go in?”
“More than,” George said. “Do we have, um—” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Do we have a bedchamber each?”
Theo looked amused. “We do, but they’re side by side, so…” He waggled his eyebrows. “If you get a little lonely in the night, you’re welcome to join me.”
George's cheeks heated with awkward embarrassment. “I don’t think?—”
Theo chuckled, his expression both amused and apologetic. “I’m only teasing. Come on, let’s hand these horses off so we can go and get washed. Not that you look the least bit grubby. How on earth do you still look so bloody pristine after a whole day in the saddle?”
George glanced at Theo, who was, admittedly, far more mud-spattered and dishevelled than George.
