It was almost funny to find himself in this predicament—he who had insisted he would never bed the same man twice, or sleep through the night with any lover. Yet here he was, unable to find any rest because George was not here with him, and in his absence, the bed was vast and empty and horribly lonely.
Theo’s stomach clenched as he stared up at the ceiling, horror gnawing at him. How—when—had George become so necessary to him?
Perhaps when you abandoned every rule for him, a small and unpleasantly familiar voice whispered inside him. Rules that have served you well for years.
As much as he hated that voice, what it said was undeniably true. Over these last weeks, Theo had let slide so many of the rules he’d once been meticulous in sticking to. He’d let George get close to him in a way he’d never allowed anyone else to before.
Why had he done it?
His motto had always been live for today. He walked through life with a light step, never settling down anywhere, always moving on to the next thing, the next lover. He’d told himself it was because variety was the spice of life, because you only live once, because he wanted to experience everything the world had to offer.
Was that really why, though?
Theo moaned, covering his face with his hands. Whatever the reason, the result was the same. He’d let his guard down, opening his heart to George.
And had lost it in the process.
He’d broken so many rules with George. He’d done it with a just this once and an it’s only for a few weeks and a score of other weak excuses he’d made to himself every time he felt a twinge of unease over his own weakness. And look where it had brought him—staring at the ceiling at three in the morning with his stomach in knots because his lover had spent the night in a different bed and was upset with him.
And oh, hell. George really was upset with him, wasn’t he? He hadn’t said so, but Theo had seen it on his face when he strode out of the dining room. Theo had hurt George's feelings with his stupid, hasty words, and now he could only stew over how to mend things between them.
Because one thing at least was clear to him. He might not have the faintest idea how to do it, but he had to mend things with George.
He had to.
But by the time Theo finally fell asleep, the sky was beginning to lighten and the dawn chorus was starting, and he still had no idea how to fix things.
For the second morning in a row, Theo woke later than usual, thanks to the long, sleepless hours of the night before. His head ached, and his eyes felt gritty, but the clock on the mantel told him it was already nine o’clock, and that had him pushing back the bedcovers with a groan.
He headed straight for the door that connected his own bedchamber to George’s, knocking at the wood panelling and calling his name. When there was no answer, he opened the door, unsurprised to find George’s room empty and the drapes pulled open, sunshine streaming in through the window.
Returning to his own room, he quickly washed and dressed before hurrying downstairs. When he entered the kitchen, he found Mrs. Ford kneading dough at the table.
She looked up with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Caldwell. Did you sleep well?”
“Do you know where Mr. Asquith is?” he asked, without answering her.
“He was up at his usual time,” Mrs. Ford said. “He went out to meet Mr. Morgan, but he didn’t eat before he went. He said he’d come back for breakfast since Mr. Hughes will be by with the post this morning."
They only received post at Blackfriars once a week. There was usually something for George, who received regular letters from his family.
It had made Theo realise how rarely he received correspondence from his own family, reminding him unpleasantly of his time at boarding school. It probably wasn’t the case that every boy other than Theo received letters and parcels each week, but it had felt like it, at the time.
Theo’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of uneven steps entering the kitchen behind him. He turned to find Martin hovering in the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Martin,” Mrs. Ford said. “How are you feeling today?”
“Not too bad,” Martin said. “Though I slept quite late.” He glanced at Theo, and his one-sided smile made an appearance. “But I see I’m not the only one.”
“Not by a long shot,” Theo agreed. “I’m down here to scrounge a late breakfast from Mrs. Ford.”
“It’s hardly late,” Mrs. Ford said. “Go on through to the dining room, the pair of you. Mr. Asquith should be getting back any time now so I’ll get you all fed together.”
“Would you like an arm through to the dining room?” Theo asked Martin.
“May as well, I suppose,” Martin said, hooking his left hand around Theo’s elbow while gripping his cane in his right.
They started down the corridor, Theo matching his pace to the other man’s. Martin seemed to be moving particularly slowly today. His expression was drawn too, his complexion a waxy grey.
