5. Sage
SAGE
After tossing and turning for entirely too long, Sage gave up on trying to find sleep again. He was flustered. With a groan of irritation, he slid his wrist from where he had it draped across his eyes and flung his arm out against the empty side of the bed where Mr. Moore had slept.
The silent rejection had been bad enough.
There was only one other man who’d ever denied him, and Sage was completely lost on how to handle it.
His shock and frustration somehow faded into lavender dreams about Wyndham.
When he woke, reality shattered over him like broken glass as he realized that a different man was in his arms smelling like fond memories.
Sage had braced himself to be shoved away, just as Wyndham had always done when he’d had enough, but somehow Mr. Moore’s reaction was worse.
He was nice about it. Understanding, even. Sage couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
Reluctantly, he got out of bed. The only option he had was to face the situation.
There was no choice but to see Wyndham living the life he’d made for himself and accept that he was not a part of it.
As he dampened a sponge in the basin to wash his face, Roger’s words came back to him.
The whole idea of this was for Sage to be a part of Wyndham’s life again.
As much as he had longed for Wyndham to be his everything, he’d wished equally as much just to be his friend.
This was his chance. But was he capable of it?
Was something truly better than nothing?
These thoughts and more like it whirled as Sage dressed himself. He was already unaccustomed to the task, and combined with everything else, he did not realize until he was walking out the door of the bedroom that he’d unconsciously selected a soft purple waistcoat from the wardrobe.
When he looked up, he locked eyes with Wyndham.
“Mr. Ravenwing,” he said, just as he had a thousand times before.
“Mr. Wrenwhistle,” Sage managed.
Wyndham smoothed a hand down the front of his waistcoat before he gestured for Sage to take the lead down the stairs.
He could hear the familiar noises of what sounded like a pleasant breakfast and several voices talking at once.
Wyndham did not want to speak to him alone.
Given their history, it was a fair request. Sage dipped his head in understanding, biting back all the things he wished to say, and placed a light touch on the bannister as he took the stairs down first. Start small , he told himself. There would be time to talk later.
Sage and Wyndham were the last two to make an appearance.
When they walked in the room, a few heads turned his way, but mostly everyone was smiling at and greeting the man who had come in after him.
Wyndham did not respond to anyone; he went directly to Roger, pressed a hand to his chest, and kissed his temple.
The warmth of the grin it pulled from his husband could’ve rivaled the sun.
Sage turned away silently to fill his plate.
After taking a seat, Sage soon realized that there were not many safe places to look.
All around the table, hands were being held, arms were around shoulders.
He could only assume what was going on out of view.
What he’d already seen proof of the night before became even more abundantly clear in the soft morning light: this was a party full of sickeningly happy couples.
Was this the real reason Roger had invited him here? To show off how happy he was? To force Sage to look at all of the perfection happening around him and remind him that he was miserable and alone?
If that was the case, he could’ve saved everyone the trouble and stayed at home.
His mother had been determined to see him married by the end of the last Season.
After finding a suitable spouse for all of his older siblings, she’d become quite skilled in her matchmaking, but Sage wanted no part of it.
Fortunately, it wasn’t all for naught. He’d escorted each gentleman she presented to bed before he informed her that the match was no good.
Sage glanced at Mr. Moore as he spread butter onto a piece of bread.
If possible, the man seemed even more vivacious than he had the previous day, moving his hands excitedly as he spoke to Roger.
Sage turned his attention back to his breakfast with a mild look of distaste.
Apparently he had lost his skills in seduction, as well.
Now he would have no choice but to marry a man of his mother’s choosing come next Season. She would be thrilled.
“Heard you had a pleasant night like the rest of us, Ravenwing.”
Emrys Wrenwhistle was grinning at him. The statement was plain enough, but nearly everything the man said was laced with a smirk or came in the form of lighthearted banter.
It was difficult to tell if he was trying to get a reaction out of Sage or not.
He had his arm around Torquil’s waist, but they were busy listening to the conversation at the other end of the table.
To save himself from more embarrassment, he decided to feign innocence as best he could.
There was no way to know what Mr. Moore had told them all.
“I slept as well as anyone might hope to, what with all of the cacophonous noise happening downstairs into the early morning.” The piano playing had continued for hours.
With the addition of loud, tuneless singing and even more laughter, it had been difficult to ignore as Sage struggled to fall asleep.
Emrys laughed. “Your companion did not seem to mind it.”
Sage’s gaze traveled up the table again to Mr. Moore.
“Fatigue will do that to a man,” he muttered.
Emrys’ grin turned sly. “I suppose it’s easier to overlook small irritations when you’re not sure how much time you’ve got with someone.
” He tugged Torquil closer against his side, which finally pulled their attention away from whatever it was Mr. Moore and the other councilmembers were so busy discussing.
They offered Emrys a calm grin, which was met with a kiss.
“Now that Conrad is staying a bit longer, perhaps he will go easier on you tonight.”
It was Torquil’s turn to offer a look of amusement, now that Emrys had pulled them into the conversation.
“Mr. Moore is staying on?” Sage asked with as little interest as he could manage. He picked at the pastry on his plate for good measure.
“Yes,” Torquil said. “We’ve asked him to stay so we can all get to know him better. He’s made a fantastic first impression, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oh, he has certainly made an impression.”
“It seems you’ve left one on him, as well,” Torquil went on easily.
Sage’s brow furrowed, still wary of what was said before he came down for breakfast. Emrys’ insinuations were rather clear, but why?
Nothing had happened between them. Mr. Moore did not strike him as the sort of man who would lie.
Then again, they had only met him less than a day ago.
What did they know of him at all? He’d clearly come with a goal in mind.
Perhaps he was the sort of person to say or do whatever was necessary to get what they wanted.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Sage told them.
Torquil leaned forward a bit in their chair as they reached for their tea. In a voice only meant for the three of them to hear, they said, “Mr. Moore referred to you as sweet .”
Sage’s jaw dropped, thoroughly scandalized. So he’d told them all about what had happened in the morning, then. The way Sage had?—
“Sweet?” Emrys said it so loudly that every person at the table turned to look before returning to what they’d been saying before. “Impossible.” He tipped his chin up across the table. “ Keelan is sweet. What did you do, Sage, hold his hand after?”
“I did no such thing,” he protested. And there was no after , he wanted to add.
“There’s nothing wrong with showing affection,” Torquil said after their last sip of tea. They used their empty cup to gesture at the rest of the party sitting around the table before they set it down. “You see we are all apt to agree here.”
Gentle touches. Tender looks. Those were things Sage had never experienced before. He stopped himself before he could look at Wyndham. He’d given them out, on occasion, but they were never returned.
Emrys hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right,” he told Torquil, pulling them close again so he could press an exaggerated kiss to their cheek. “Maybe that is exactly what Mr. Ravenwing needs. A chance to soften that stony exterior of his.”
Sage glared at both of them as he stood from his chair. He left his half-eaten breakfast where it sat and breezed out of the room.