Chapter 12
GEORGE
When George awoke the next morning, after the best night’s sleep he'd had in some time, his first thought was to wonder what he would do today.
Then he remembered Theo Caldwell’s invitation of the evening before.
He was going to Wales. With Theo.
A strange, queasy thrill went through him at the thought, part pleasure and part horror. What had he agreed to?
He could change his mind, of course. Dash off a quick note of apology and send an errand boy to Theo’s house with it. For several long minutes he lay in bed, pondering what he might write in such a note. At last, still undecided, he got up and rang the bell for hot water.
After washing and shaving, he dressed in his most comfortable riding clothes, then pulled out more clothes to take on the journey.
If he went. When he was done, he eyed the surprisingly large pile of garments doubtfully.
There was no way on earth it would all fit into a pair of saddlebags.
George had never wanted a valet—he was no fashionable dandy who needed a servant to polish his boots with champagne—but at times like this, he had to allow one would be useful.
With a sigh, he rang the bell again, asking the footman who answered his summons to send the housekeeper up.
Mrs. Graves didn’t so much as blink at George’s garbled explanation of needing his clothes to be packed for a trip he may or may not be embarking on.
She merely suggested he go downstairs to take his breakfast, assuring him that she’d sort out the saddlebags and arrange for several trunks of additional clothing to be sent up to Mr. Caldwell’s house in Wales.
And if it all had to be unpacked again after breakfast, that would not be a difficulty.
Her calm assurances didn’t settle him though.
Even as George descended the stairs to the breakfast room, he was composing his note of apology to Theo in his head.
Or rather, failing to compose it. The trouble was, he didn’t want to lie, but it was difficult to think of any good reason for changing his mind that would not be hopelessly rude.
Despite his uncertain frame of mind, his stomach was growling when he sat down to eat, and he was in the middle of his second helping of eggs and ham when a footman entered, saying, “Excuse me, my lord, there's a gentleman asking to see you.”
George glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was not quite half-past nine. Damn it all, Theo was early, and George still hadn’t decided what to do!
“Thank you, Piggott,” he said, pushing his plate aside and trying to ignore the sudden churning in his belly. “I’m expecting him. Please, show him in.”
“Very good, my lord.” The footman withdrew, but moments later he was back—and it was not Theo Caldwell who he ushered into the room.
It was Ollie.
Slowly, George got to his feet. “Fletch,” he said stupidly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”
Ollie’s smile was tight. Nervous. “I’m sorry to call so early, but Cecily and I are departing on our wedding trip this morning, and I wanted to see you before I left town.”
George wasn't sure what to say to that. The truth was, the feeling was… not mutual. He cleared his throat. “I see. Would you care for some breakfast?”
Ollie shook his head. “Thank you, no. I don’t have long.”
For a moment, they stared at one another awkwardly. There used to be no one in the world that George felt more comfortable with than Ollie. But somehow, over the last two years, that had changed.
Ollie had changed.
Perhaps George had too.
Gesturing at the chair opposite him, George said politely, “Won’t you sit down?”
Ollie raised a brow. “So formal with me, Sherry?” His tone was mildly chastising, but he took a seat.
“So,” George said, when Ollie remained silent. “Why did you want to see me? Is there something you need my help with?”
Ollie looked oddly pained. “Nothing like that. It’s just that I’d been looking forward to seeing you since I got your letter saying you were coming to the wedding, but we barely got the chance to speak yesterday.”
“It’s all right,” George assured him, forcing a smile. “I understood. You’re the groom, after all. You’re expected to talk to everyone. I knew you wouldn't have much time for me.”
Ollie shook his head. “You might not mind, but I do. It’s been so long, and I’ve—I’ve missed your company.”
“Have you?” George asked. Gently, he added, “You could have come to see me in Wiltshire any time you wanted.”
“You could have come to see me in town,” Ollie countered.
“That’s not true,” George said quietly, meeting Ollie’s gaze again. “You asked me to leave. How could I return after that?”
Ollie flushed and dropped his gaze. There was a long silence.
Then, eventually, he said, his voice low, “I can’t quite believe I did that now.
I was trying to get some distance, you see.
It was hard enough finding a suitable bride without having you around, distracting me.
” He glanced back at George, offering a rueful smile. George didn’t return it. He couldn’t.
Ollie sighed. “I’m sorry, all right? I wish I hadn’t done that. But the fact is, I needed to find a bride to secure Dinsford Park.”
“I understand,” George said. “And I’m pleased for you. I’m sure you and Cecily will be very happy together.”
Ollie shrugged. “It’s not as though it’s a love match. Once the wedding trip’s over, things will get back to normal.” He met George’s gaze again, his own very serious. “We can go back to how we were before. You know I prefer spending time with you above anyone else.”
George met his gaze. “But you’re married now.”
“So?” Ollie said, hitching one shoulder.
“What does that matter? I’m sure Cecily will prefer to spend her days doing women’s things anyway.
This is how we always knew things would be.
You’ll be married too, soon enough, and hopefully our wives will be friends.
Our children too.” He smiled, inviting George to share his pleasure at this vision of the future.
But George could find no pleasure in it, only a slow, simmering resentment at Ollie’s words. “Is that one of Hewitt’s demands?” he said. “Does he want his daughter to be friends with a duchess too? Will he buy you a new carriage-and-four if you manage it?”
Ollie’s eyes widened. “What? No! I just meant—it’s how we always used to talk about our futures.”
“It’s how you used to talk about it,” George said. “It’s not what I want.”
Ollie’s brows drew together. “What do you mean by that? What else is there?”
“I could choose not to marry.”
Ollie laughed, a startled, unamused huff. “What?”
“Though I realise that doesn’t meet with your requirements for friendship,” George added a little bitterly.
Ollie blinked. “My requirements for—what are you saying?”
A rap at the door had them both turning their heads. It was Piggott again.
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but there’s another gentleman asking for you. A Mr. Caldwell.”
Ollie’s gaze snapped back to George. “Caldwell?”
Absurdly, George felt himself flush, as though he had any obligation to explain himself. Annoyed, he ignored Ollie’s question and smiled at the footman, saying, “Please show Mr. Caldwell in.”
Ollie looked dumbfounded. “What on earth is he doing here? You don’t even like each other. He used to despise you at school!”
An unfamiliar pang of irritation flared in George’s chest. Why did Ollie always seem to feel the need to point out how little George had been liked by others? Did he really think George wanted to be constantly reminded?
“He invited me to climb a mountain with him.”
“A mountain?” Ollie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“Yes,” George replied airily. “In Wales.”
“Wales?” Ollie appeared baffled by this news. Thankfully, George was spared from having to explain further when Theo strode into the dining room, full of energy and purpose.
“Good morning, George,” he said cheerfully. “Are you ready to—” And then he broke off, spotting Ollie sitting on the other side of the table. His smile vanished. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be swiving your new wife?”
“Theo—” George said, a faint note of rebuke in his tone, though it struck him as a fair question.
“Sorry,” Theo said, directing the word at George rather than Ollie, and not looking the least bit apologetic.
“I might as well ask what you’re doing here,” Ollie replied, glaring at Theo. “Since when were you friends with George?”
George felt a swell of anger at Ollie’s sudden use of his given name. He’d been Sherry until Theo had turned up.
Theo laughed at Ollie’s angry expression. “We’ve been friends for years, Fletch. George and I have known each other since we were boys!”
“Yes, and from what I recall, you spent most of that time tormenting him,” Ollie snapped.
“Stop exaggerating, Ollie,” George said quietly.
There was a long moment of awkward silence; then Theo sighed. “I did torment you sometimes,” he said heavily, turning a regretful gaze on George. “I’m very sorry for it now.”
This was not something George wanted to talk about, not with Ollie standing there, listening. Waving a hand, he muttered, “It was a long time ago, and you already apologised.”
Ollie made a disgusted noise. “Why are you letting him get away with it?”
By now George was truly mortified. “Leave this alone,” he said tightly. “Please.”
“Fine,” Ollie said, pressing his lips together, but his gaze was all impotent fury.
After a few moments of tense silence, Theo cleared his throat and said, “We really should be getting on our way now, George. We need to collect the horses.”
George glanced at the clock. If he’d changed his mind about going away with Theo, he had to say so now. But, if he did that, Ollie would take it as a win, and Theo would have to walk out of this room alone.
For some reason, George couldn’t bear that idea.
He turned to Ollie. “I’m terribly sorry, but we really do need to be getting on our way.”
Ollie’s expression was all hurt betrayal. “Are you saying you want me to leave, George?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I only just got here.”
“Yes, well, Theo and I made our arrangements yesterday evening,” George pointed out, mildly. “And I didn’t know you intended to call on me this morning.”
Ollie gave a shocked laugh. “Theo, is it?”
George flushed self-consciously, but he pressed his lips together.
What was wrong with him using Theo’s given name?
They’d all called each other by their given names when they were boys, and really, what had changed since then?
He glanced at Theo, who was studying his fingernails, a bored expression on his face. Somehow the sight fortified him.
Ollie stood abruptly, drawing George’s attention back to him. “I’ll be on my way, then,” he said, his tone clipped. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you and Caldwell.”
“Ollie—” George said wearily, but Ollie was already striding towards the door.
“Next time I want to call upon you, I’ll be sure to make an appointment in advance,” he said waspishly. “That way you can decide if you’re prepared to receive me before I come and save us both a lot of unnecessary bother.” And with that, he slammed out of the room.
George stared after him, hurt by that parting comment. As though he’d ever refused to see Ollie, or ever would. And God, what must Theo be thinking? He must be regretting inviting George to go away with him now.
But when he glanced at Theo, the man looked very far from regretful. His eyes brimmed with amusement and he had his lips rolled between his teeth, as though trying to keep in his laughter.
George shook his head at him. “It’s not funny,” he said, though already, incredibly, he felt a stirring of amusement in his own belly.
Theo spluttered a laugh then. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “But he only got married yesterday, and instead of lying in bed with his new bride, he’s here, throwing a tantrum over you having the temerity to go for a walk with someone else without his permission.”
“That’s not why he came,” George said, his tone mildly reproving. “He didn’t even know you’d invited me to go to Wales with you until you arrived.”
Theo’s laughter settled down, but he still wore a broad, amused smile, and God, but he looked so handsome when he smiled like that. George felt his belly tense with awareness.
“Oh, I think I know why he came,” Theo said, his gaze still amused.
“Do you?”
“Don’t you?” Theo retorted, one brow hitching up in inquiry. “Think about it, George. Why do you think Fletch would come here, the morning after his own wedding? Don’t you think that’s rather odd behaviour for a new husband?”
It was odd. George thought back to what Ollie had said when he’d first arrived. “He said he felt bad that we hadn’t had much of a chance to speak yesterday, or at the Hewitts’ dinner. I’m not sure why, though, or why he was so angry when he heard I was going away with you. It makes no sense.”
Theo rolled his lips between his teeth again. After a moment, he said, “That is a mystery.” But the expression on his face suggested he didn’t find it nearly as mysterious as George did. In fact, he seemed rather amused.
George narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but before he could say anything, Theo clapped his hands together in a decisive gesture. “Right then. Are you all packed and ready to go? We really do need to be on our way.”
George’s stomach turned over nervously. No getting out of it now. “Um, yes. More or less.”
“Good,” Theo said. “The first leg of our journey isn’t too demanding, but we’re making a late start, and we’ll want to get to the inn in plenty of time for dinner.” His eyes sparkled and there was something about that look that lit a tiny flame of excitement in George’s belly.
It seemed he was going to Wales after all.