Page 99 of Restored

“Tell me,” Kit urged.

“Indulgent,” George said. “Affectionate. Kind. Far nicer than any of my friends’—”

He stopped walking suddenly and covered his mouth with his hand, as though to stop something coming out. He turned quickly away from Kit, but Kit saw the flash of torment in his grey eyes before he did so.

Kit stepped closer, laying a careful hand on George’s shoulder. “George,” he said softly. “Is something wrong?”

George shook his head, but Kit sensed he wasn’t so much answering Kit’s question as expressing some kind of deep denial.

“What is it?” he prompted. “Was it the letter?”

George gave a choked cry, and his shoulders trembled with the depth of his emotion. He choked again then, a horrible repressed sound. The sound of grief being pushed down and buried deep.

Sensing George’s discomfort with his touch, Kit let his hand drop, even though it felt like the wrong thing to do.

At length, George turned back to him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his gaze was hopeless, but he was back under control.

“I’m being absurd,” he said. “It’s happy news. My friend Ollie is getting married.”

Ollie.

Oliver Fletcher.

“You don’t have to be happy,” Kit said carefully. “Especially if you have a fondness for the person yourself.”

George looked at Kit and in that moment, Kit saw all his misery. How hard this blow really was.

“Why don’t you talk to your father?” Kit said gently. “If there’s anyone who’ll understand how you feel, it’s him.”

George stared at him for a few moments, saying nothing, then he nodded. “All right,” he whispered.

They walked the rest of the way back to the house in silence.

They were nearly at the door when George finally spoke.

“Kit,” he said.

Kit turned to him. “Yes?”

“I’m glad Papa has you. He’s much happier now.” George smiled and there it was, that rare sweetness. “I used to worry about him so,” he said.

The sudden lump in Kit’s throat took him by surprise, and then he was blinking back tears, feeling like a perfect idiot.

George clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder and stepped ahead of him, heading for the door.

“I’ll speak to him,” he said. “Thank you, Kit.”

Later that evening, Kit was reading in bed when his bedchamber door opened.

Flustered, he pulled off the spectacles he’d only recently begun to wear, causing Henry to chuckle.

“Why do you take them off as soon as I arrive?” Henry said as he began to remove his clothes.

Kit wrinkled his nose. “They’re ugly.”

“Nonsense,” Henry said. “Actually, I rather like how strict they make you look.” He grinned. “I keep hoping you’ll threaten to give me six of the best.”

Kit chuckled. “That can be arranged.”