Chapter 28
GEORGE
George had a busy day, only returning to the house shortly before dinnertime.
“There you are!” Mrs. Ford exclaimed when he entered the kitchen through the back door. “I thought you were only working at Mr. Martin’s farm till lunchtime?”
“I was, but I rode over to Balmouth to do some errands after,” George said, sniffing appreciatively at the delicious cooking scents in the air.
“You must have spent a good while there,” she said. “It’s nearly six.”
George suppressed a smile. Mrs. Ford was fishing in her subtle way, but he wasn’t about to tell her what he’d spent those hours doing, not before he spoke to Theo.
He’d visited half a dozen different tradesmen and suppliers today, pricing up works and filling pages of his notebook with information.
He’d need to spend a good bit of time going through it all to get his thoughts into any kind of order.
He should probably do that before he broached the subject with Theo.
“Something smells wonderful,” he said instead, by way of distraction. “Do I have time to wash and change before dinner? I don’t want to keep the others waiting.”
“It’ll just be Mr. Caldwell and yourself this evening,” she said.
“Mr. Martin isn't joining us?”
“He’s gone to bed,” she replied, lifting the lid off a large pot and giving it a stir. George’s stomach rumbled loudly. “He’s had a difficult day.”
“Is he all right?” George asked, concerned.
“Just tired, I think,” Mrs. Ford replied. “He and I ate half an hour ago, and he could barely keep his eyes open. It’s to be expected, I suppose. He’s still recovering and will be for a while yet.” She smiled at him then. “Go and wash up. Mr. Caldwell won’t mind if you eat a bit later.”
George nodded. “I’ll be back down in ten minutes.”
When he reached his bedchamber, he stripped his clothes off, gave himself a thorough wash, checked himself in the looking glass to make sure there was no mud left on him from his long ride, and hastily dressed again, yanking a comb through his wind-tangled hair before hurrying back downstairs.
Theo was already sitting at the dining table when he entered. He looked up when George appeared, his smile bright and immediate. George’s heart stuttered when he saw his clear pleasure and affection.
“Apparently, Martin’s having an early night,” Theo said, gesturing at the table which only had two places set.
“Yes, Mrs. Ford said,” George replied, pulling out a chair and taking his place. “She says he’s tired. Do you think he’s all right?”
Theo nodded. “I spoke with him earlier.” He looked thoughtful, adding, “We had a good talk actually. About him and my uncle, and how he came to leave me this place.”
“Him and your uncle?” George echoed, raising his brows. “Does that mean…”
“Yes,” Theo interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You were right. Go on, gloat.”
He sounded so resigned, George couldn’t help but laugh. “I won’t gloat,” he promised, “provided you tell me everything.”
Mrs. Ford arrived with their dinner then—a rich mutton stew with fresh-baked bread to mop up the thick, meaty gravy.
George, who hadn’t eaten since breakfast, fell on the food like a starving wolf while Theo shared what Martin had told him.
The life he and Stephen Lockhart had shared for thirty years, and why Lockhart had chosen Theo as his beneficiary.
“It sounds,” George said carefully, “as though your uncle was hoping you’d be willing to pour your own money into Blackfriars.”
“Yes,” Theo agreed, his expression regretful. “Perhaps if we’d had the chance to talk before he passed away, and he’d learned my money was all gone, he’d have changed his mind about leaving it to me.”
“Perhaps,” George agreed. “It sounds as though his primary concern was for Martin.”
“I think so.” Theo was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with some raw emotion George couldn’t quite identify. “You were right about them, George. They were…” He trailed off, swallowing visibly. “They truly cared for each other.”
George set his fork down, his appetite deserting him as a lump rose in his throat.
Until this moment, Theo had never acknowledged that two men might share anything more than temporary physical pleasure.
George was suddenly fiercely glad that Theo could finally see the possibility of it, even if he didn’t seem to want it for himself.
Perhaps that was unfair though. Just because Theo didn’t want George in that way didn’t mean he’d never want anyone.
If Theo could at least accept the possibility of love, then maybe, one day, he would allow himself to have it.
Even if it had to be with someone else, George would hope for that. He wanted Theo to be happy.
He wanted it because he loved Theo.
The knowledge, which had been dancing at the edges of his consciousness for a while now, settled on him, a strange weight.
He could not say he welcomed it—not when he was sure his feelings were unrequited—but there was something good about it.
A sense of having learned something important, however painful it may prove to be in the long run.
“Can you imagine?” Theo continued, unaware of George’s tumultuous feelings. “What must it be like to lose someone after all those years together?”
“As painful as that would be,” George said quietly, “It doesn’t undo the years they had. The happiness they shared.”
Theo met George’s gaze and his own was uncertain. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “At any rate, I wish I’d known the first time I came here. Hell, I wish I’d known when my uncle put me in his will.”
“If he’d spoken to you before you left for the Continent, do you think you would have done anything differently?”
Theo frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps if I’d known before I went away, it would have changed how I used the bequest from my grandmother.
” He grimaced. “I’d never imagined a day would come when I would really need that money.
It’s galling to think about now, when I no longer have it. And to remember what I spent it on.”
“There are other ways of getting money,” George pointed out. And this, he realised, was his moment. Taking a deep breath, he added, “I could give it to you.”
Theo had been staring at his wine glass, but at this, his gaze snapped up, brows snatching together. “What? No! I could never take your money!”
“I just meant that I could lend you some,” George added quickly.
“No, George! Absolutely not. The very last person I want to borrow money from is you!”
George felt oddly stung. The very last person?
“Why?” he asked. “I can easily afford it, and I want to help you. It would be a loan, not a gift. We’ll have proper legal papers drawn up and—”
“I’ll tell you why,” Theo interrupted, “though you know as well as I do. With the rents Blackfriars gets, it’ll take me years to pay you back. That’s hardly an investment for anyone, George. You can do a lot better with your money than that.”
“What could be better than helping a friend?”
Theo didn’t answer the question, but his expression was closed and determined. George had known he would be resistant, but he hadn’t expected quite this level of hostility. He decided to try a different tack.
“If you let me loan you the money, it won’t just help you,” he pointed out. “Morgan and Martin will keep their leases. Mrs. Ford, Tom and the new maids will still have their positions.”
Theo flushed at that, clearly embarrassed. “My tenants and staff are my responsibility, George, not yours. You have enough obligations of your own, I’m sure. As for the money, you could invest it far more profitably in a dozen other ways.”
“I don’t care about profit,” George replied hotly. “I have more than enough, and I want to do this for you. I—”
“Well, you should care,” Theo interrupted. “That money belongs to you and your family—I doubt they’ll thank you for throwing it down the drain.”
“I wouldn’t be throwing it down the drain!” George protested. He was angry now. Why was Theo being so stubborn? “And even if I was, this is my money. I can do what the hell I like with it.”
“For God’s sake, George, ” Theo snapped. “You live two hundred miles away. You wouldn’t even be here to see how it’s spent!”
George’s face heated at Theo’s angry words.
He tore his gaze away, embarrassment and hurt flooding him.
He’d known he’d need to leave Blackfriars at some point, but somehow, hearing those words come out of Theo’s mouth brought home to him, as nothing else could have, that he was just someone who had drifted into Theo’s life for a while.
Someone who would drift out of it again quite soon.
A man whose company Theo may have enjoyed for a few weeks but whose departure he would not particularly grieve when the time came—and perhaps it had already come.
Perhaps George was outstaying his welcome now?
Making things awkward. Theo had never pretended that he wanted anything more from him than some temporary physical pleasure.
Perhaps he was getting bored now, wishing that George would go home.
Perhaps he saw George’s offer as a desperate ploy to stay longer.
That thought had his stomach twisting with humiliation, but he forced himself to stiffen his spine.
Well, if that was what Theo thought, he was wrong.
George wasn’t offering Theo money in the hope of getting anything from him that he didn’t want to give.
He was offering it because Theo—and all the other people here—needed it.
Because it was the right thing to do. So, he pushed his foolish hurt aside and said, quietly but firmly, “I wouldn’t need to be here, Theo.
I know exactly what you’d be using the money for.
I wrote it all down for you in my notebook. ”
Theo was unmoved—was he even listening? His jaw was set in a stubborn line. “You don’t seem to understand, George. I don’t want to be beholden to you like that.”
Beholden to him?