“And that’s exactly why I’m offering you a loan,” George exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “To give you your freedom back.”
“But I won’t be free, will I?” Theo retorted. “I’ll owe you money. And I won’t be able to rest till it’s all paid back, every penny.” He looked truly pained at the thought. “I don’t want that hanging over me! I don’t want to feel obliged to you, George, or to anyone. I don’t want to need anyone.” He ran his hands through his thick hair, disordering it in his frustration.
George could only stare at him, at a loss as to how to respond. “Theo,” he said at last, a little desperately, “we all need other people at some stage in our lives. What I’m offering you is not a difficult thing for me to give. I don’t care about the money. I care about—” He broke off at the flash of panic in Theo’s gaze, then forced himself to say the words anyway. “I care about you.”
Theo didn’t say anything to that, but his expression flared with panic. Throat thick, George glanced away, reaching for new words. Words that would take them back to safer ground.
“And besides. To be blunt, short of selling Blackfriars, I don’t see what other options you have. It’s not as though you have potential buyers queueing up.”
“Actually,” Theo said, studiously not meeting George’s gaze. “I do have a potential buyer. I’m meeting him tomorrow.”
George’s eyes widened, a wave of disbelief washing through him. For weeks, they’d been working here together, learning the rhythms of Blackfriars and the turns of its seasons. George had even begun to wonder if Theo was coming around to keeping the place. He had said nothing about a possible buyer before now.
“What?” he breathed. “Who?”
“A Mr. Prentice,” Theo said shortly. “He’s a local landowner.”
Prentice.
“Oh, Theo, no,” George whispered, remembering what Mrs. Morgan had said all those weeks ago. “You can’t.”
Theo’s brows drew together, but he didn’t meet George’s eyes. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” he said tightly. “I just want to hear what he has to say. I need to know what choices are open to me.”
“Do you?” George said, his voice rising. “Do you, really? Or do you just want to know what the easiest choice is?”
Theo did look at him then, and the betrayed expression on his face had a pang of guilt piercing George’s chest. Even so, George made himself go on.
“Listen,” he said, “I won’t deny that Blackfriars needs repairs, some of them urgent. But that’s just due to temporary neglect. The more I’ve seen over these last weeks, the more I’m reassured that the estate is fundamentally sound. The land is good and has been well maintained for years. The harvests are more than decent. There’s some pain to be borne in setting things to right, but Blackfriars will turn a profit again, I’m sure of that. You just need to?—”
“You know, I’m not quite as much of an idiot as you seem to think,” Theo interrupted. “You may believe I’ve not been paying attention to what you and the others have been telling me over these last weeks, but I have. And I’m capable of assessing Mr. Prentice’s offer fairly for myself.”
George stared at him, unsure how to reply. He had probably hurt Theo’s feelings, but wasn’t Theo being unfair? Dismissing George’s offer out of hand while insisting on hearing out a perfect stranger—one whose ruthless reputation preceded him—then bristling when George questioned his judgment?
George couldn’t help but feel aggrieved and hurt. Abruptly, he got to his feet. “Well, it seems you have everything in hand. Since you don’t need me, I think I’ll retire. It’s been a long day.”
Without waiting for a reaction, he turned on his heel and strode for the door.
“George,” Theo said behind him. “Wait.”
But he didn’t wait. He opened the door and strode through it, then closed it after him, shutting Theo away.
It was quiet in the corridor. Painfully so. George paused his step, suddenly uncertain of his decision to storm off. There was even a moment when he considered reversing course. But he stiffened his resolve and headed for the stairs, climbing the steps to the bedchamber he hadn’t spent a night in for weeks.
29
THEO
George didn’t come to Theo’s bed that night.
Theo oughtn’t to have been surprised after their argument. But still he lay awake for ages, waiting and brooding over their disagreement, trying to recall the exact words he’d uttered in the heat of the moment.
At first he could only think about George’s inability to see his point of view. Could George not understand how mortified Theo had been by his offer to loan him money? Worse even than that had been the awful suspicion that George might believe that was why Theo had invited him to Blackfriars in the first place. Above anything else, it had seemed vital to Theo to make it crystal clear that that had never been the case. Theo didn’t want George’s money, and he wasn’t looking to George to solve his problems.
As the hours passed, though, and sleep continued to evade him, he found himself dwelling less on the particular words they’d exchanged and more on George’s reactions. The swift withering of his hopeful eagerness when Theo had immediately rejected his offer. The wounded expression in his dark gaze—not angry, but hurt. Theo wished he could remember exactly what he’d said to make George look like that, but in the heat of the moment, it had all happened so quickly. And now he was left confused and regretful.
How had it all gone so suddenly and terribly wrong?
He was being punished for it now, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, all because George wasn’t lying beside him as he had every night for the last number of weeks.
