George could only gaze at him wordlessly, noting that Ollie looked different today. George mightn't know much about fashion, but even he could see that Ollie’s coat was the height of elegance and that his cravat was highly starched and tied in a complicated manner. There were several ornate rings on his hands too, which were new, and his cravat pin bore a large stone, a ruby by the look of it, gleaming darkly in the folds of linen at his throat.
George had known Ollie wanted these things—God knew he’d bemoaned his lack of funds a thousand times, so this shouldn’t have been a surprise, but he couldn’t understand why Ollie thought George would be interested. It only made George more aware of the differences between them.
“I’m really not sure what you want from me,” George said honestly. “I’m not interested in fashion or society. Or gambling or racing curricles. You know that.”
A strange silence descended. And then Ollie said, very quietly, “We do have one mutual interest.”
George stared at him. He was scarcely breathing now. Surely Ollie wasn’t talking about…
“I didn’t feel able to indulge before,” Ollie continued, his gaze averted, pink staining his cheekbones. “But now that I’m married and Cecily’s with child…” He trailed off meaningfully. When George stayed silent, he glanced at him, adding hastily, “The main risk is exposure. One is so vulnerable to unscrupulous people. But, if we’re sensible, we could rely on one another to be discreet, couldn’t we?”
George eyed him incredulously. “I thought it was because of my supposed lack of discretion that you felt the need to ask me to leave London?”
Ollie plainly heard the note of bitterness in George’s voice. He winced visibly. “Don’t be offended,” he said, “but you can be rather naïve, George. I do know that you would never intentionally expose me. And I would set up the arrangements with exceptional care, so I could—we both could—be certain of complete discretion. You know I can be trusted to take a secret like that to the grave.”
George shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry—where has this come from? For years you’ve said it’s only women you want. You insisted that you didn’t desire men in that way. That you didn’t share my flaw. That was the term you used, wasn’t it?”
Ollie flushed still deeper, but his jaw hardened. “I had no choice, George. I had no income, and my inheritance was an estate that was already mortgaged to the hilt. I had to secure my position before anything else. I couldn’t take the risk of being discovered before I married. Christ, don’t you read the newspapers? If you’re discovered with another man, you may as well jump in the river.”
“If that’s how you feel, why take the risk now?”
Ollie’s smile was tight. “Once you have money, you can buy privacy. If you choose your partner carefully—someone you trust—you can reduce the risk to almost nothing.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because, if nothing else, you at least trust me not to expose you?”
Ollie eyed him wordlessly. At last he said, “Well, let’s be honest. We both have as much to lose as the other.”
“I see,” George said flatly. “It’s not because you want me in particular then. It's because you think I’m an acceptable risk. Do I have that correct?”
To his surprise, Ollie’s tight, angry expression crumbled, leaving him looking momentarily lost. He raised a hand and rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck. “What I think,” he said at last, “is that I’ve bungled this badly. I thought…” He looked up, meeting George’s gaze before saying quietly, “I thought you cared for me, George. Was I wrong?”
All at once, George was overwhelmed with sadness. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I did care for you, for a long time. But things have changed. I’ve changed. And I’ve realised there are things I need that you can’t give me.”
Ollie’s gaze was wary now. “What things?”
George swallowed. “To be loved. To have someone. Someone who is… there.” When Ollie said nothing, only stared at him, George added. “You’re talking about something different. Seeing each other every now and again, but mostly living our lives apart. And lately I’ve come to realise that I wouldn’t do well with such an arrangement. In fact, if I’m honest, I think it would make me deeply unhappy.”
Ollie was frowning now, seeming puzzled and irritated in equal measure. “George, do you honestly think anyone could give you what you want? To live a life like that would be to live in the constant shadow of exposure.”
“Yet people do live that life,” George said gently. “Finding joy together in spite of the risk they run.”
“Well, good for them,” Ollie said shortly. “But if you go down that path, I fear—I fear our friendship would have to end. I cannot risk being associated with a suspected sodomite.”
“I see.” George said quietly. “So, if that is how I intend to live from now on, I should not count upon your continuing friendship?”
Ollie had the grace to flush, and drop his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “But if you were ever exposed, I could not risk my name being linked with yours.”
George eyed his old friend sadly. He could see that Ollie was sorry, even if it was mostly for selfish reasons. He understood too. He knew what it was to have desires that terrified you, and filled you with yearning at the same time. Desires that made you wonder how you were going to play this part for all your life, always keeping a crucial part of yourself hidden from others.
Losing his heart to Theo Caldwell may have been painful, but in that moment, George realised that he would not undo these last weeks for anything. In that time, he’d had Theo all to himself, spending every night in his bed and giving himself in return. It had been like having a huge bowl of perfect strawberries to eat, after years and years of storing up whatever tiny bits of stale, old crumbs he could find. In the end, there had been no choice but to gorge himself, or lose out altogether when the fruit spoiled.
He’d learned a lesson from it. Better to be well fed for a single summer than live a lifetime on nothing but crumbs. Theo might not want him forever, but when they’d been together, George had had all of his attention. He had been fulfilled and sated in a way he’d never been before.
With Ollie there would only ever be crumbs, no matter how much he insisted he wanted George and cared for him.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Ollie was saying now, his mouth tightening. “I shouldn’t have even let myself think about this. I’ve managed to keep it back for all these years, and I thought I could just continue on like that. But then there was the wedding, and I saw you again, and in the weeks afterwards—” His eyes were wet now, and he shook his head wordlessly, seeming unable to find the words to complete his thoughts.
“Ollie,” George whispered.
