“You’re not an idiot,” he said mildly.
Martin scowled at the table. “I hate when I drop things—I feel so bloody useless.”
“You’re recovering,” Theo said gently. “It’ll take time to get back to normal, but you’ll get there.” He paused, adding sincerely. “And we’re all here to help you.”
Martin sighed and nodded. Then he began again, clumsily setting about his breakfast while Theo watched him from the corner of his eye, trying not to be too obvious.
They ate mostly in silence, Theo pausing occasionally to assist Martin, tucking his napkin back into place when it slid down, buttering his toast and pouring more tea for him.
“Thank you,” Martin mumbled when he was finished. The napkin bore several stains now, and he had a few speckles of egg yolk hardening in his beard. He looked a bit of a sorry sight, and Theo was moved by a now-familiar pang of unwanted pity.
Leaning forward, he pulled the napkin gently out of Martin’s collar and went to wipe away the spatters in his beard.
Martin jerked his chin aside. “I’m not a child,” he bit out, swiping his hand to grab at the napkin. He missed the first time, but managed the second, taking hold of the linen and clumsily rubbing his face with it.
“All right,” Theo said mildly, lifting his hands up in surrender. “I was only trying to help.”
“I know,” Martin grunted. “I just hate this.” His gaze was frustrated, and anxious too, and in that instant, Theo knew, more viscerally than he ever had before, how terrifying this must be for Martin, a man who had no family nearby to help him, and no certainty of when, or whether, he would regain his former strength. Who found himself dependent on the charity of a man he barely knew. A man who had been rather insufferably rude to him the first time they had met.
Theo wished he could give Martin some reassurance, but what could he say? The doctor didn’t seem to have any idea how long his recovery would take—if he ever fully recovered. As for Theo, he barely had any idea what the next quarter held, never mind the next year, or the year after that.
“Try not to worry,” was all he could say, in the end.
Stupid words. Just useless sentiment really. Yet they seemed to affect Martin profoundly. His throat bobbed betrayingly, and he raised a shaking hand to cover his face, as though to conceal his reaction, taking a ragged breath. When he’d composed himself a little, he dropped his hand back to the table and met Theo’s gaze. His eyes were wet. Ruefully, he said, “I leak like a bucket these days. Never did before.”
Theo offered a half-smile. “I won’t tell anyone.”
When Martin raised his gaze to meet Theo’s, he said, “You are very like him, you know.”
“Who?” Theo asked. Before Martin could respond, Theo realised who Martin was speaking of: Theo’s uncle.
That was what he expected Martin to say. Your uncle.
But, no.
“My Stephen,” Martin whispered. “The kindest man I ever knew. The best.” Tears welled again in his eyes, and this time, he didn’t even dash them away, just let them course down his weathered cheeks.
Theo had no idea what to say.
“He could never say how he felt,” Martin continued. “With him, it was all in his actions, never his words. I used to get annoyed with him over it. Wish I’d been more patient now.” He glanced at Theo. “You make sure you tell your young man what you think of him. Don’t leave him wondering and unsure.”
Theo’s mouth went dry and his heart began to race. “My—” He broke off, his face heating.
“Mr. Asquith, I mean,” Martin said, his voice hoarse. “He’s your man, isn’t he?”
Theo stared at him, his eyes going wide as a wave of panic rose in him. “I—that is, we aren’t—” But he couldn’t somehow bring himself to complete the sentence. To deny George.
It was only then that Martin seemed to realise he’d said something untoward. His face fell. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not—” He broke off, his face twisting as he searched for words. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m usually careful. Stephen and I were always careful. It’s just that I can see that you and Mr. Asquith are the same way we were, and sometimes, now, I say things I wouldn’t have before…” He trailed off helplessly.
The initial surge of panic that had risen in Theo began to slowly subside as common sense reasserted itself. Martin knew about him and George because he was like them. He knew how important it was to keep their secret. He wouldn’t tell anyone else.
Eventually, Theo managed to get some words out. “It’s all right,” he said. “Though I hope you realise that George is going to be unbearable when he hears about this. He suspected about you and my uncle from the first. As soon as he learned you used to live here, and that there was a connecting door between your bedchambers.”
Martin gave a huff of rough laughter at that. “Stephen had that door put in before we came here to live. I was mortified when I arrived to find it, all brand new and freshly painted.” He met Theo’s gaze. “He’d been careful, though. Brought a joiner all the way from Bangor to do the work so there wouldn’t be local gossip.”
Theo smiled. “I can understand that. It’s important to be careful.”
Martin nodded his agreement. “Yes. And he always was.” He sounded sad.
