Martin gave a lopsided smile—one side of his mouth was still less mobile than the other. “You know,” he said, “the first time we met, I was terribly rude to you. But despite that, in my most desperate moment, you brought me into your home and cared for me as kindly as if I was your own family.”
“This is your home,” Theo said, colouring, “It was yours before I ever came here. My uncle would have turned in his grave if I’d turned you away.”
“Yet that’s what many people would have done.”
“You give me too much credit,” Theo said guiltily, driven to honesty. “The truth is, it was George who insisted you be brought here—it’s him you should thank.” Theo broke off, his throat closing. “So if you’re making this offer because you think I’m some deserving paragon, you should think again. I promise you, I’m not. It’s only George who ever made me want to be a better man.”
Martin’s gaze was curious now, and for a while he was silent, but at last he said, gently, “You know, we are none of us islands. After Stephen died, I tried to shut myself away from everyone. I rejected my friends and neighbours. I only wanted to be alone with my grief. But when this calamity befell me—” He gestured at his own body. “—I had no choice but to rely on others. At first it made me bitterly angry. But recently, I've come to realise that this too is an inevitable part of life. To be in need. And in my time of need, I was fortunate to be treated with more grace and generosity than I deserved.” He paused, his arresting blue gaze searching Theo’s face. “You say Mr. Asquith makes you a better man, and I’m sure you’re right—because you're not an island any more than I am. If he helped you find strength, and purpose, then I owe him as much of a debt as I owe you.”
“More than any you owe me,” Theo said thickly. Speaking of George had brought all of his grief and loneliness back to the forefront of his mind. His throat was clogged and aching now, and it was a minute or more before he had himself sufficiently under control to speak again. “Your offer is generous. It is a very good bargain for me—your capital and your knowledge and experience—but it is no bargain for you. You should think further before you make such a decision.”
Martin shook his head. “I have thought enough,” he said. “If you are willing, then I will shake your hand on it now.” And with that, he held out his hand. His arm shook, and his fingers trembled, but he held it out.
And what could Theo do but take his hand? Despite his misgivings, and as unworthy as he felt of Martin’s trust, to reject his offer would be graceless. So he set his hand in Martin’s and Martin’s uneven smile provoked his own mouth to curl, and made his heavy heart a little lighter.
This was the start of what could only be a long and arduous journey, but he had never been one to shy from difficult paths. And tomorrow, he would be able to tell Morgan that he need not fear the loss of his farm. With a few words, he could banish the worried look that he'd left Mrs. Ford with earlier today. And in time, he could restore Blackfriars to what it used to be. And damn well make sure that young Tom became a groom, as he’d always wanted.
Theo and Martin drank a toast to their bargain, then leaned back in their chairs, contemplating the fire contentedly.
At length, Martin said, “You must be missing him.”
No need to ask who Martin was referring to.
“I am,” Theo said.
“When do you think you will hear from him about his brother’s condition?”
The question completely discombobulated Theo. He blinked at Martin, uncomprehending. At last he said, faintly, “His brother?”
The older man frowned. “His brother who was injured? He told Mrs. Ford about it before he left. Did he not…?” He trailed off, his gaze wary now, worried perhaps that he had spoken out of turn.
Theo thought back to that day, a week ago now, when he’d come home to find George gone and had waved off Mrs. Ford when she’d tried to talk to him, because he’d been so sure he knew what had happened.
Except now, it seemed, he hadn’t known at all.
“Sometimes our loved ones need us, and what can we do but go when called upon?”
“I think,” Theo said slowly, “there has been a misunderstanding. What exactly did he say about his brother?”
Martin was frowning now. “According to Mrs. Ford, he wasn't sure himself what had happened. He’d had a letter from his father saying his brother had been injured and taken home, but the letter gave no details of the circumstances. Mrs. Ford said he was quite frantic about it, and departed in great haste. He’d only asked her to explain to you when he was running out the door.”
Theo recalled then that there had been other letters for George that day. It was just that Fletch’s was the only one Theo had seen—and Theo had then proceeded to jump to far too many conclusions from the few lines he’d read.
“He will probably write soon enough with news,” Martin said carefully. “When he does, it would be good if you could tell Mrs. Ford how he fares—I know she is quite anxious to hear.”
“If I hear, I will, though I doubt he will write to me. We did not—” He paused here to swallow. “We did not part on the best of terms.”
Martin regarded him worriedly. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said. “You seemed very close. I assumed you were—” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Like Stephen and I. Not just temporary, I mean.”
The words made Theo’s throat thicken again, and his eyes sting. We were. We could have been. He dropped his head into his hands.
“I think,” he said, without looking up. “That I’ve been a very great fool. I should have?—”
He broke off, because there were so many things he should have done. So many times when he could have spoken, when he could have told George that this thing that had been growing between them meant more to him than just bed sport and friendship. That his heart was engaged. That he wanted more. That he wanted a life with George. A forever with George, with all the risks and fears that forever brought. All the potential for pain and sorrow. And all the joy.
All the love.
Too late now, was his first thought. But then a small voice said, Is it? Is it really too late? Will you give up so easily? Without even telling him of your feelings?
