“You sound as though you want to go back.”
“I plan to,” Theo said. “Not to do the whole thing again, but I want to return to the Alps. Perhaps explore them on the French side, from Chamonix.”
“Do you have a hankering to conquer Mont Blanc?” George asked, a teasing smile hitching his mouth up on one side.
“I don’t know about conquering it,” Theo said, grinning. “Very few men have achieved that feat, but yes, it would be exciting to try, don’t you think?”
“Ask me again after we’ve done Snowdon,” George said, and Theo laughed.
“How long would you go for, if you went back?” George asked.
Theo smiled. “Until my money ran out.” He glanced at George then, his expression turning a little rueful. “That probably sounds rather reckless.” He sighed. “It was running out of money that drove me back to England the first time around. I used an inheritance my grandmother left me to pay for my travels. By the time I reached the Netherlands, it was almost all gone. But then I returned to England to learn that my uncle had passed away and left me Blackfriars.”
“That was lucky for you,” George said.
“Very,” Theo said. “It gave me an immediate income and a capital asset that I can sell to finance my next trip.” He sent George a crooked smile. “My mother always says I was born under a lucky star, and perhaps she’s right, because something does always seem to turn up.”
A sceptical little hum escaped George, and Theo looked up, amused. “Do I sense disapproval? You think me flippant?”
George shrugged, a little self-consciously. “Not flippant. I just—” He paused. “Do you realise how fortunate you are, inheriting not one but two bequests? Don’t you want to use that money to establish yourself in life?”
“What would you have me do?” Theo asked, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head to one side. “Why not enjoy the money while I’m young? We only get one life. I may as well make the most of it.”
“But what about when that money runs out too? Which it will, if you sell off the estate and use the proceeds to pay for more travels.”
Theo only shrugged. “Then I wait for something else to turn up, or find myself some employment. I’m not entirely useless, you know.”
Horrified, George said quickly, “I never meant to suggest that. I only?—”
“I know, George,” Theo interrupted, leaning forward to set a hand on his knee. “You’d never say anything so mean-spirited.” Patting George’s knee, he leaned back again, though George could still feel the weight and warmth of his touch even after he drew his hand back.
“I realise many people would think me feckless for talking this way,” Theo went on. “And perhaps I am. But I think you have to live for today. After all, everything could change tomorrow.”
“And there’s the difference between us,” George said with a weak chuckle. “I’m always thinking of tomorrow and what changes it might bring.”
Theo hitched an unconcerned shoulder. “It’s your nature, and there’s no fighting that. It’s the reason you don't want to repeat what we shared in Redford’s, while I would be perfectly happy to do so.”
George felt his cheeks heat. “I’m not sure that’s the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” Theo shrugged. “It strikes me as very similar. Why not enjoy whatever pleasures present themselves while you can?—”
“I’ve nothing against pleasure,” George interrupted. “I just can't be so cavalier about it as you. I’m afraid I’d have regrets.”
“Exactly,” Theo said. “You’re choosing to forego pleasure now, to avoid potential pain later.” He gave one of his half-hitched smiles. “When you think about it, that’s not so very different from holding onto money instead of spending it.”
George blinked, taken aback by Theo’s logic. It occurred to him, then, how often he made decisions based on that simple, devastating calculus. Pleasure now, or pain later. Not even certain pain; the mere possibility of it was often enough to deter him from a particular course of action.
Just then, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour, and it was as though that single, ringing peal broke some spell between them. Theo yawned, running a big hand over the back of his neck. “God, I’m tired, and we need to make an early start tomorrow to put in as many miles as possible—it’s a fair way to the next inn. Are you ready to retire?”
“Yes, of course,” George said, reeling a little from the sudden change of subject.
“Come on, then,” Theo said, setting his glass down and getting to his feet.
George followed Theo out of the little dining room and up the inn’s rickety stairs. It was late now, and the guests were settling down for the night. Behind closed chamber doors came the rumble of voices, the creak of floorboards.
When they reached their own stretch of corridor, Theo went straight to his own chamber, mumbling a tired, “Good night, George,” as he opened the door and slipped inside.
For a moment, George just stood there, staring at Theo’s closed door. In that moment, he realised that there was a part of him that had fully expected Theo to suggest that George join him in his chamber tonight. And though he’d intended to refuse any such invitation, there was no denying the disappointment that now suffused him.
