11. Sage
SAGE
Sage made the decision to skip breakfast. After witnessing the reaction to his answer the night before, he thought it best to give everyone time to get their gossip out of the way uninterrupted.
Wyndham would never be the one to speak about their first green garment encounter, or any of the times that came after, he was certain.
But Torquil might. Stars above, Roger had even seen them once.
It happened at the beginning of the previous Season, at a ball held by Lady Anthea’s family of all places.
Sage could still recall the look on Roger’s face when he stumbled upon them in the garden beneath Wyndham’s fairy lights.
Even more vivid was the memory of Wyndham pushing him away after.
How was it possible that not even a year had passed since then?
When Sage finally convinced himself that he could face the house, he dressed in dark blue trousers and a matching coat to accentuate the luster of his silken white waistcoat and the various shades of color swirled into the paisley pattern of his cravat.
He would not allow another day of rain to prevent him from looking his best.
The sideboard was indeed empty of breakfast when he checked. Everything had been cleared away except for a single bowl mounded with oranges. Sage took one glance down at his waistcoat and left them for someone else.
He passed by the Ladies Fitzhugh taking a stroll in the main hall, their arms linked in a private promenade.
Miss Thackeray’s spirited laughter spilled from the room with the piano.
As such, it was his best guess that Mr. Thompson or Mx.
Hillcrest—probably both—were with her as she played a melody Sage did not recognize.
Upstairs, the door to the study was closed and several voices could be heard coming from within.
He wanted to pause, or at least slow down to listen, but the memory of the air so soupy with magic from the day before was enough to keep him moving.
More laughter coming from an open door finally made him stop walking.
It was another bedroom, furnished similarly to the one he had been using, though the colors were a few shades darker with more patterns on the walls and bed.
There was a sitting area near the fireplace, only two chairs and a small table between them, but it was something Sage’s room lacked.
He supposed the dressing table and ottoman had been more useful to him.
Torquil was in one of the chairs, turned sideways with one leg tucked under them and an arm draped across the back.
Keelan was standing behind the other chair, bent at the waist and supporting his weight on one forearm.
In his other hand was a large goose feather.
As he waved it through the air rapidly from side to side, the occupant of the second chair attempted to catch it.
“I presume this is the creature Roger and Wyndham will not stop talking about,” Sage said as he took a step closer, tilting his head curiously.
“Her name is Peony,” Keelan told him without looking up. Another few flicks of the feather had the small animal rolling onto her back and swiping at the air with two paws instead of one.
“Have you ever met a cat before?” Torquil asked.
Sage’s brow furrowed. “I have seen them in the street before, yes. Chasing after rodents. Peering ominously from high places. I cannot imagine why anyone would want one in their home.”
“Look at her,” Keelan said incredulously. “She is adorable.”
Moments later, the cat claimed victory on her prey and pulled the feather from Keelan’s fingers.
For some reason he could not explain, the three of them watched intently as she chewed on it a few times, holding it between her front paws and kicking at it with the rear ones.
Keelan reached for the feather and yelped when Peony turned her teeth and claws on his hand instead.
“Adorable,” Sage echoed dryly.
“She’s only playing,” Keelan said, defending her even as he rubbed at the place she’d just attacked him.
With a small chirping sound, Peony abandoned the feather and the chair and was trotting across the rug directly at Sage.
She sniffed at his shoe and then threw herself against his shins, rubbing a streak of orange hair across both legs of his trousers.
He stepped carefully out of her way before she could do it again.
Torquil chuckled. “She likes you.”
“Go on,” Keelan said cheerfully, “she wants you to pet her.”
Sage’s eyes went a little wide at both of them. “Pet her?”
“Stroke her fur with your hand,” Torquil explained, acting out the gesture in the air like he was some sort of… slowtop .
“She just bit you!” Sage complained, eyeing Keelan’s hand.
The man shrugged. “Not very hard.”
Sage let out a heavy sigh that ended in a groan.
“Very well.” He leaned down and flattened his hand, reaching for the place on her back that seemed safest to touch.
Before he got there, Peony bumped her head up into his palm and did all the work for him, rubbing against his hand all the way to her tail.
She was surprisingly soft. Sage pet her one more time before he righted himself and brushed his hands together.
“There, now wasn’t that lovely?” Coming from anyone else, it would’ve sounded far more cutting, but he knew Keelan actually meant it.
“I suppose I’ll finally have an interesting story to tell at dinner this evening,” Sage told him. “Both of you be ready with your testimony.”
Torquil gave him a smirk. “As I said, there is nothing wrong with showing a little affection. Even if it is directed toward those you least expect.”
Peony was still busy covering him with as much of her hair as possible, from what he could tell. When she noticed him looking at her, she let out a cry.
“Perhaps not. Now she’s screaming.”
Torquil and Keelan both laughed.
When Peony hopped back up into the empty chair, Keelan wriggled his fingers underneath her chin. She leaned heavily into the touch. “Are you making an effort to be more affectionate, then?” He smiled down at the little cat. “I’m sure Conrad is pleased about that.”
Sage met Torquil’s steady gaze.
“Would someone care to explain the fascination between myself and Mr. Moore? I’m quite certain neither of us has done anything to justify it.”
In a matter of days, bold assumptions had become something far more serious.
Sage had fallen asleep with his arms around the lavender pillow and his thoughts around what Keelan said after the game had ended.
How could they look well together? The only time they’d been together was out of view, and even then it was in proximity alone.
Sage had no reason to be worrying over what would make Mr. Moore happy.
“You are a bachelor. He is a bachelor. In case you’ve missed it, you are the only unattached people in residence. Can you blame us for wondering?”
Sage narrowed his eyes at Torquil.
“Your curiosities feel strangely like assertions, Mx. Pimpernel-Smith.”
Torquil’s answer was a blithe shrug.
“You must admit,” Keelan said wistfully, “it would be an awfully romantic way to meet someone. Each of you traveling across the country for entirely different reasons, finding one another in the same gorgeous country house, letting your unavoidable feelings free.”
“Feelings?” Sage blurted. “What are you?—”
“None of us are trying to pass judgment, Sage,” Torquil cut in. “I’m afraid you’ve simply found yourself surrounded by a group of people who are thoroughly preoccupied by love at the moment.”
The word twisted sharply in Sage’s chest. None of them knew how fortunate they were to associate love with happiness rather than heartache.
“I can only speak for myself, but I would appreciate it very much if you would all leave me out of it.”
After one more glance at Peony, Sage whirled around and stomped down the hallway, this time trying exceedingly hard not to hear what was happening inside the study as he passed by.
* * *
His efforts were for naught. Sage couldn’t have shared his story about Peony at dinner even if he’d been serious about doing it.
It was as though Roger and Mr. Moore were the only two in the room, going back and forth with their excitement over what a successful day it had been in the study.
Wyndham had joined them to watch Silas perform his unique blend of fae and human magic, which was apparently different from what Torquil was able to do with theirs.
Everyone had read reports about the results of the Council’s project in the papers, but Sage had to admit that hearing it directly from the people who were involved was considerably less boring.
Eventually, Wyndham broke up the frenzied chattering to tell the story of how Silas had to be paired with every available fae involved with the project—himself included—to find a suitable match.
Keelan appeared increasingly more bashful as the narrative went on, until Emrys finally spoke out and divulged the secret relationship that had formed between the gentlemen, all thanks to a chance encounter weeks before the project ever began.
After a round of nearly the entire table telling the Rook-Worths how sweet their story was, Lady Imogen Fitzhugh recounted her own experience in her search for a partner.
It had been a far more proper affair as she courted Lady Anthea with calls for tea, filling dance cards, and eventually winning her heart.
“I assure you,” Lady Anthea had said demurely, “there was never any doubt on my part that Imogen was the one I was meant to be with.”
Miss Thackeray barked out a laugh in her direction. “Save for the months of worrying yourself sick to the rest of us if she actually meant to court you at all!”
Lady Anthea gave her friend a very disapproving glare.
The evening stretched on with little delineation, further supporting what Torquil mentioned about love being at the forefront of everyone’s minds. By the time Wyndham declared the meal was over, they all agreed it was too late for gathering in the drawing room and made a slow parade up the stairs.
As soon as the bedroom door was shut behind them, Mr. Moore gave a strong yet airy exhale, almost dreamy in nature.
“That was a most entertaining conversation, don’t you think?” He went on before Sage could reply, dragging his bag from beneath the bed. “It’s wonderful to be surrounded by so many contented people.”
“I am not sure those are the words I would choose,” Sage said, peering at the man in his peripheral as he undressed, working deftly at the buttons of his own waistcoat.
They settled into the routine that suited them best, Mr. Moore propped on a pillow with one arm behind his head, reading one of the books he’d borrowed from Roger, and Sage applying the rose and sweet almond oil at the dressing table.
He took his time, working slow circles into his skin, watching the reflection of Mr. Moore.
The man was entirely at ease. Sage found it highly disconcerting.
“Is there nothing that bothers you?” he asked, tossing his silk banyan across the ottoman as he stood.
Mr. Moore looked at him around the pages of his book.
“Should something be bothering me?”
Sage blew out his candle before he slipped beneath the sheets.
“That is not an answer to my question.”
Mr. Moore saved his place in the book by resting it open against his chest.
“We just spoke this morning about my concerns regarding the Council.”
“Yes, and somehow you were still smiling the entire time,” Sage said. “Quite the contradiction.”
Mr. Moore hummed. “I apologize. I will attempt to better match my expression to my emotions moving forward.” Deep wrinkles appeared on his forehead as his bottom lip jutted out. “How’s this?”
The reaction was so unexpected that a laugh burst out of Sage. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand and willed himself to stop. Only after he regained his composure did he move his hand to the base of his throat and gave a short nod.
“An improvement,” he agreed.
Mr. Moore’s smile was wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.
He moved the book from his chest and rolled to place it atop the others stacked on his table before he blew out his candle.
Sage blinked into the darkened space. He waited for Mr. Moore to settle beneath the covers before he spoke again.
“I am bothered by many things,” he said, almost proudly.
“That’s most unfortunate,” Mr. Moore replied beside him.
“However, I find that I am usually able to find solutions to the things that unsettle me. It can be quite rewarding. And while I am most often focused on working through my own frustrations, it has occurred to me, after what you said this morning, that perhaps I could come up with something that will satisfy the both of us.”