25. Sage
SAGE
Sage woke to the sound of hushed voices passing by their door.
He’d slept fitfully, waking several times throughout the night but never long enough to force him away from Conrad’s side.
Despite their closeness under the layers of blankets and the other man’s warmth, Sage found that his toes and fingers were still cold.
In all the madness, nobody had lit a fire in Roger’s study or in the bedroom.
The chill had well and truly sunk in all the way to his bones.
To his surprise, it appeared that the murmuring in the hallway was what woke his companion, as well.
Conrad drew in a sharp breath and stretched his entire body at once, producing a satisfied little grunt as he let it out and settled back into his pillow.
Sage shifted his cheek against Conrad’s shoulder to gaze up at him.
“Good morning,” Conrad said, his voice a bit raspy. He was rubbing at one eye with the hand not resting easily over Sage’s back. He opened the other and squinted at the window, where the curtains had been drawn. “Is it still morning?”
“I’m not sure.” Reluctantly, Sage turned onto his back with his head on his own pillow, freeing the man. “What time do the Ladies Fitzhugh usually arrive for breakfast? I think I heard them just now.”
“Difficult to say. Sometimes they’ve already gone out for a brisk walk or something of the like before any of us have sat down.”
Conrad was out of the bed already. Sage carefully did not allow himself to imagine rolling over into the warm spot he left behind before it was gone.
“That sounds like a dreadful start to the day,” he grumbled.
“Yes, I am learning it’s one of the largest differences between humans and fae. Keelan seems to be the only one of you who cares to be seen before noon.”
“Keelan has far too much energy for his own good.”
“A fair assessment,” Conrad said as he tugged his shirt over his head.
“Besides, you cannot give off an air of refinement with dark circles under your eyes. Beauty sleep is extremely important.”
Conrad chuckled. “I suppose so. Is it the same in London?”
“We do our best. Social obligations sometimes require that we wake early, but any fae event is quite the opposite. It remains a point of contention between both sides of society.”
“Something for everyone, then,” Conrad said brightly. “That’s what I always imagined it to be like in the city. Excitement at any time of the day, as long as you’re willing to look for it. Back home, we were lucky to attend one dance a month.”
Sage’s brows went up slightly. “Do you enjoy dancing?”
“Oh, er…I only know one or two country dances well, to be honest,” Conrad hedged. “Nothing like what you’re accustomed to. I’m sure you dance beautifully.”
For the first time since submerging himself in the lake, Sage felt a trickle of warmth in his chest that spread out in slow, gossamer curls.
Conrad had finished dressing and sat on the edge of the bed as they talked, supporting his weight on one outstretched arm with one knee bent across the mussed blanket.
On any other morning, he would’ve already been out the door.
“Country dances are often requested in London, as well. One can only dance the cotillion so many times over the course of an evening.”
Conrad’s smile grew as he slid his palm over the blanket until he was propped on his side across the bed. He gave Sage’s ankle a playful, almost affectionate squeeze through the sheets before he sat up again and started for the door. “I’ll meet you in the study after breakfast.”
“Wait.”
Sage pressed his lips together as Conrad turned back around.
“Yes?”
Unspoken words burned on his tongue.
“I…thought I might join you. If you do not mind.”
Conrad’s answering grin was achingly sweet. “For breakfast?”
Sage pushed himself up so he was propped against his pillow.
“I am still rather chilled from last night, I’m afraid.” His toes were curled tightly under the sheets.
Conrad hummed. “A nice, hot cup of tea is exactly what you need, then.” Without hesitation, he trotted over to the wardrobe and opened the doors wide, staring up at Sage’s rainbow of clothes. “What are you going to wear?”
Sage pushed back the covers, placing his feet flat on the rug. “I had not given it any thought yet.”
“What about this one?” Conrad asked, lifting his burgundy waistcoat with two rows of proud gold buttons down the front into the air. Not exactly a summer choice, but it would not matter if they were to spend the afternoon in the study.
“Do you prefer it?” Sage asked, coming to stand beside him.
“I’ve no idea,” Conrad said with a little laugh. “I own three waistcoats and one jacket. Do you really think I have an opinion on fashion?”
Sage grinned and took the waistcoat from him. “Very well. What else am I wearing today?”
* * *
As they entered the breakfast room together, Conrad leading the way, it was an effort for Sage to train his expression into something more neutral.
He’d never had such fun getting dressed before.
After rejecting three of the cravats Conrad found—mossy green, pale blue, and bold coral stripes—they’d settled on white.
It was enough that he was going to be seen at the morning meal, he did not care to draw more attention to himself than necessary.
Whatever quiet conversation had been happening around the table stopped entirely as Conrad handed Sage a plate at the sideboard before he began filling his own. The air grew progressively thicker with curiosity until Torquil spoke.
“You two look well this morning.”
“Roger told us what happened!” Keelan added excitedly.
“Keelan,” Roger scolded under his breath.
Sage took a steadying breath as he added a pastry to his plate.
Conrad had taken two of them, so he decided they must be good.
He lifted his chin as he turned to face the table, but nearly dropped his plate when he discovered that Conrad had set his own breakfast down and was waiting for Sage to take the chair next to his, which he’d pulled out for him.
He sat lithely in the proffered chair and glanced at Conrad as he settled beside him.
“We decided it was time to provide some fodder for the morning gossip,” Conrad told them all with a smile. This earned him a round of mild laughter from the rest of the table. “Respectfully, I do not think I could’ve sat through one more story of what Emrys prefers in bed—or out of it.”
“Hear, hear,” Roger said into his cup of tea before taking a sip.
Sage reached for his own cup the moment it was finished being poured.
After a single, soft blow against the steam rising from the surface, he took a long pull and closed his eyes blissfully as he felt the heat of it traveling all the way to his belly.
“Well, someone has to provide a little entertainment,” Torquil challenged with a smirk as they leaned into their chair, hooking their arm over the back of it. “What is a house party for, aside from giving in to our greatest indulgences?”
Roger huffed, affronted. “I did not invite all of you here to facilitate any such thing.”
“Yes, Roger, we know why you invited us,” Torquil said reassuringly.
They exchanged a knowing look with Keelan.
Sage arched a brow. “Unfortunately, when your estate is as idyllic as this, a little cavaulting can only be expected.” Their attention shifted to Conrad and Sage.
“To varying degrees of success, I suppose.”
“Emrys is a poor influence on you.” Roger shook his head disapprovingly.
There was laughter from the hallway.
“What’ve I done now?” Emrys asked as he strolled into the room.
“It seems everyone in residence is eager to splash a bucket of cold water on us,” Torquil told him. “Our host is scandalized.”
Emrys clicked his tongue in disapproval. “When is he not?” After setting his plate on the table, he lifted Torquil’s chin with a curled finger and kissed them. “Am I to be blamed for seeking a young, virile spouse?”
Keelan laughed. “Is that how you tell people you met?” He turned pointedly to Conrad. “Now that’s a real story worth hearing.”
Keelan and Emrys proceeded to take turns telling Conrad how the other met their partner—surprisingly similar in that both narratives began with a drunken night together, though Emrys and Torquil’s romance spanned half a decade longer.
By the time they were done, even Wyndham had joined the room, and the Ladies Fitzhugh had returned from their walk.
Harriet, Fern, and Cyril were rather active listeners, but added little to the conversation.
It seemed their dynamic would continue on as a mystery.
“But I daresay there is no greater modern romance than that of our hosts,” Keelan said finally with a wistful sigh. There were various nods and sounds of agreement around the table. “The bookish yet reserved visionary swept up by his charming, handsome prince.”
Roger blushed as he and Wyndham shared a soft grin.
“Charming,” Emrys echoed. “I beg to differ.”
“But I am handsome,” Wyndham offered coquettishly.
Emrys rolled his eyes and took a bite of toast.
“Sage and Conrad make a handsome couple, as well, do they not?” This was Harriet’s contribution. “Two very winsome gentlemen, indeed! Such luck that they have found one another by chance here at your home, Roger.”
Sage had finally warmed up after his second cup of tea, but that did not keep him from feeling his ears go pink when Conrad placed a hand on his arm.
Cyril appeared to reflect on her observation, stroking his chin.
“It seems most everyone at this table can offer some level of appreciation to our hosts for our romantic successes.”
They all sat in silence as they worked through the various connections.
After a pause, Harriet raised her teacup as though it were a wine glass.
“To Roger and Wyndham,” she said proudly.
The rest of the party scrambled to lift their own cups. Knowing he would be the only one left out if he did not participate, Sage lifted his cup, as well.
“To Roger and Wyndham,” they chorused.
Roger covered his cheeks with his hands, grinning widely and quite obviously embarrassed by the attention, as Wyndham put an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple.
Sage could read his lips well enough to watch him murmur an ‘ I love you’ into Roger’s ear.
To his surprise, Sage felt a faint grin tug at one corner of his lips at the tenderness of it.
“Perhaps we can claim a small amount of recognition for it,” Roger said. “But we are no great matchmakers. There is much to be said for compatibility, as you all know.”
Wyndham and Sage locked eyes across the table.
Unknowingly, Conrad had revealed far more than what he understood in the study the night before. Sage could hardly attest to understanding it himself, but if anyone could, it was the man staring at him.
Was the incident at the lake a result of his magic responding to his compatibility with Conrad? It would explain the fierceness of it that he had never felt before.
As their meal ended, Sage supposed he was going to find out.