George swallowed hard, a thick clod of hurt in his throat. “No? I’m not sure I agree. What do we matter at all if we don’t matter to other people? What else gives our lives meaning?”
“You can matter to yourself,” Theo said fiercely, his strong brows furrowed. “You can find meaning in what you do instead of what other people think of you.” He gestured at the vast horizon stretching out before them. “You can find meaning in this. The truth is you don’t really need other people at all.”
Theo shifted his big body so that they were sitting side by side, their thighs touching, both looking out at the vast valley below them.
“Not having someone isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Theo said after a while. “It can be good. It means you don’t have to answer to anyone else, and that you’re free to do as you wish. If you take a notion into your head to—oh, I don’t know, go on an expedition to the Grindelwald—you can get up and leave, and there’s no one to tell you not to.”
George smiled, but it was wistful. “I think we’re quite different, in that respect,” he said. “Going off to the Grindelwald on my own sounds exciting but also rather lonely. I think I want someone to answer to. Someone who might get annoyed, or worried, if I told them I intended to go off on an Alpine expedition on my own.”
Someone he would matter to.
Theo nodded. “You’re right, George,” he said, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “In that respect, we’re quite different.”
19
THEO
They reached the summit of the mountain not long after lunch. It was windy at the top, so they didn’t linger too long, just enough to savour their accomplishment, and soak in the extraordinary views.
The descent was long and gradual, an easier walk than on the way up. They fell into a good, steady pace, and arrived back at the inn late in the afternoon, hot and sweaty, with aching legs, empty water canteens and raging thirsts.
When they finally reached the inn courtyard, they took turns at pouring deliciously cold water over their heads, shaking off the worst of it before heading into the taproom. The barmaid raised a brow at their rumpled clothes and wet hair, but brought them two tankards of cool, bitter ale without comment which they drank in companionable silence, content and exhausted.
“That was wonderful,” George said at last. “Thank you for inviting me along”—he offered a rueful smile—“and sorry for talking about myself so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Theo said. “And don’t apologise. I was happy to listen. It’s been good to have a companion. Generally, I do these sorts of things alone.”
George’s smile deepened, his naked pleasure obvious, and Theo felt something close to pain to witness it. George showed so much of himself. Theo was reminded of when they were boys, and George had him all upside down, torn between contempt and attraction, because when George liked someone, he had no armour, no natural shield. Theo hadn’t known whether to think him foolish or brave.
Perhaps that was why Fletch had asked George to leave London in the middle of the season. In a way, Theo could understand it. If you were looking for a wife, it would be damned hard to concentrate on the task at hand, with George looking at you the way he was looking at Theo right now.
It wasn’t that he was indiscreet. He wasn’t careless or brazen. He never did or said anything that couldn't be explained away. It was merely that he was… unguarded. He didn’t seem capable of donning the impenetrable mask that Theo was so adept at wearing. When they were at school, Theo had thought this a terrible defect of George’s, but now, as he took in George’s soft, fond expression, he realised that the painful twisting inside him wasn’t distaste or scorn. It was something far harder to bear.
Terrified affection, excitement mingled with dread. Fear of others’ reactions, and perhaps, too, of his own reaction.
What would happen if Theo responded to George in kind? Was Theo even capable of such a thing, or was he too careful, too self-conscious? For all his talk of doing what he pleased, he could not imagine being as open in this way as George was. Immediately, his mind went to all the possible external threats—being seen, being overheard, being speculated about. The very idea of discovery made his heart race and his palms sweat.
“Is something wrong?” Frowning, George reached across the table, his warm fingers lightly grazing Theo’s bare forearm, and the edge of his rolled-up shirt sleeve. Automatically, Theo reared back, making George’s eyes widen.
Mortified by his overreaction, Theo felt heat flood his face. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I was…” He tried to think of a way to end the sentence but couldn’t. Instead he lifted his tankard and drained the contents, before lifting his chin to catch the barmaid’s eye, gesturing for two more ales to be brought.
When he finally glanced back at George, George was eyeing him warily. “Is something worrying you?” he asked. “You seem preoccupied.”
Theo fumbled for an excuse. “I suppose I’m nervous about taking you to Blackfriars.” That excuse had the benefit at least of not being a complete lie.
“Why?” George asked, frowning.
“You’re probably not going to be very impressed with what you see,” Theo said truthfully. “You might even be rather horrified. I’ve only been once before, and on that occasion, I noticed there were a hundred and one repairs needing done. Unfortunately, I don’t have the money to deal with them.”
“Did you make a list?”
Embarrassed, Theo shook his head. “I should have done so, but the truth is, I felt rather overwhelmed at the time.”
“Overwhelmed by what?” George asked, his gaze curious. “The size of the task?”
“Partly,” Theo said. “And partly the expectation on me.” When George frowned in puzzlement, Theo sighed, wishing he hadn’t started this.
“You remember me saying that my grandmother left me some money?” When George nodded, he said, “My uncle knew about that bequest, and that I was a younger son who would inherit no land. It’s why he decided to leave Blackfriars to me. He left a letter for me saying as much and urging me to invest some of my inheritance in the estate.” He swallowed. “By the time I read the letter, that money was already gone.”
