Annoyed, he turned to Ollie, saying coolly, “I’m sorry, I thought we were done.”
Immediately, he realised he had offended the man. Ollie reared back a little, clearly aggrieved by George’s tone. But George could feel no regret, only a growing impatience. More than anything, he just wanted Ollie to go so he could turn his attention fully to Theo. Ask him why he was here. What he had come to say.
“I suppose you’re right, Sherry,” Ollie said finally. “We are done.” And with that, he stepped past George, ignoring Theo entirely, and climbed into the waiting carriage, pulling the door closed behind him.
George had no time to dwell on Ollie, though, because Theo was already stepping forward, moving into the space where Ollie had been standing, his intent gaze on George. And for the first time in a fortnight, George felt like he could breathe again.
“You’re here,” he husked, and despite everything—all his sorrow over leaving Blackfriars and all the uncertainties that plagued him still—he couldn’t stop a hesitant smile breaking out as he took in every detail of Theo’s dusty, worn, dear appearance.
“Yes,” Theo agreed, his own gaze raking over George with the same desperate hunger George felt.
Behind them, the coachman flicked the reins, urging the horses forward with a click of his tongue. The wheels of the carriage began to turn.
Ollie was leaving.
George spared a glance for the departing carriage, catching a last, fleeting glimpse of Ollie’s solitary figure through the window. And then the carriage was pulling away, the horses gaining speed.
And George could only feel relief.
“I’m sorry,” Theo said, when George turned back to him. “The timing of my arrival was very poor. Did I ruin the moment?”
George frowned. “Sorry?”
“You and Ollie. Your… farewell,” Theo said stiffly, his gaze sliding away.
“Our what?” George frowned, confused for a moment before understanding dawned and he gave a short laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about that. There was no moment to ruin.”
“No?” Theo’s gaze flickered back over to him, interested and watchful. Maybe even hopeful.
The groom had already gone, taking Theo’s mount to the stables, and now, George and Theo were alone, standing in front of the huge front doors of Avesbury House.
“Why are you here, Theo?” George croaked.
Theo stepped closer. Discreetly, he touched George’s hand with his own, letting their knuckles brush together, then hooking his pinkie around George’s. A shiver ran up George’s arm.
“I have things I must say to you,” Theo said in a low, urgent voice. “Can we go somewhere to speak privately?”
George’s heart was thudding, his body tense with nervous excitement. “Let’s go up to my rooms,” he said. “No one will interrupt us there.”
35
THEO
Thankfully, they encountered no one when they entered the house. George headed straight for the stairs, Theo following in his wake, and several hastily-climbed flights of stairs later, George ushered Theo into a large, elegant bedchamber.
Theo had had many days to plan what he was going to say during his journey here. In his imagination, the words had flowed out of him, impassioned and articulate. But here, in the moment, he didn’t even know how to begin.
“George,” he said, just gazing at the man. After a moment, he realised he was still wearing his hat and took it off. “It’s damned good to see you.”
George’s gaze softened but all he said was, "Why did you come, Theo?"
Theo took a deep breath. “The real question you should be asking is why it took me so long to come."
George frowned. “All right, why did it take you so long?”
Theo swallowed. “Because I’m a bloody idiot.”
George’s brows rose, but he said nothing.
