35. Sage
SAGE
There was no doubt that the house was of an appropriate size to host a party for the number of people Roger had invited.
Since the day after Sage had agreed to help, the two of them had been sneaking through the place like thieves so Roger could show him the various rooms he had in mind to use for the occasion.
At first, Sage had only admired each space with little concern for how they might actually use it for their purposes.
But as the date drew nearer, Sage had asked how Roger meant to ready any of the rooms and still keep it a surprise.
Now, they stood beside one another and stared out at what looked to be nothing more than an empty field.
“Well,” Roger said, thrusting his arms out in front of him as though he was showing off a new prized racehorse or great sculpture. “What do you think?”
“I think I am looking at a lot of grass and trees,” Sage said dryly.
“And the ideal place for the party!” Roger took a few steps out across the lawn, which looked to have been recently tended.
“It is just hidden enough that you cannot see it from the house, but close enough that it will not require too much walking.” Sage glanced over his shoulder to discover that it was a rather secluded location.
“Are we meant to stand the entire time?”
“Not at all.” Roger spun to face him, gesturing to his right. “There will be tables and chairs here, with the dance floor opposite.”
“A proper garden party, then.”
“Yes! I think it will be perfect. Wyn dearly loves to be in nature.”
“I do not recall seeing any receipts for flowers. I suppose you are not trying to impress your mother-in-law, after all?” The space had a rough beauty to it on its own, with a smattering of petite yellow and purple wildflowers blooming amongst the trees.
It would take a great deal more than that to match the sort of garden parties they all attended in London, and especially the magnificent displays that Wyndham’s mother was known for at her own events.
“Wyn has told me before that the sight of cut flowers upsets him, so I thought it best not to worry overmuch about the decorations.”
Sage pursed his lips. “Perhaps he would not mind it as much if they were a careful selection from your own garden? Just some small bouquets for the tables. You cannot have a garden party without flowers.”
Roger seemed cautiously pleased with the idea. “That might do nicely.”
With a fortifying breath, Sage wandered a short distance from where he had been standing, peering up at the canopy of ash trees overhead.
“I suspect you’ll want lanterns and fairy lights in the branches?”
“Oh, yes,” Roger said on a dreamy exhale.
“You will have to ask at least one other fae for their assistance, then. I cannot call them as the others can.”
Roger seemed taken aback by this information. “Really?”
Sage lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.
“Afraid not.”
Roger’s hands curled into fists at his sides, fingers waggling and likely desperate for a quill and paper to make note of such a discovery.
Just as fast as he’d seemed to imagine the fairy lights, he let the thought go and moved on to an alternative.
“Lanterns will be fine. Plenty of candles will do the trick.”
“You’ve the budget to light this entire space with candles?”
“Yes.” Roger frowned. “Do you think it’s too much?”
Sage snorted a laugh and shook his head. Of course they could afford it.
“I don’t believe there is an alternative, unless you want us all to be dancing in the dark.” A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “You might even make the papers with that one when we all return to the city.”
Roger let out an uncomfortable groan. “I’d rather not.”
“Why will you not ask someone? I am certain Keelan or Emrys would be happy to help you with the lights.”
“You know how they all are,” Roger said with a full-body, helpless sort of shrug.
“Everything turns into a laugh.” He sighed.
“Or worse, something indecent.” Color crept across his cheeks as he adjusted his spectacles.
“I mentioned my idea to Torquil before we all left London at the end of the Season, and they suggested that a private party would make Wyn happier.”
“Is this not a private party?” Sage asked. “Forty people you are both well acquainted with is hardly a public affair.”
“A different sort of party,” Roger strained. “You know. Alone .”
Sage made a face. “What’s so special about that?”
“That’s what I said!” The man huffed and slapped his hands against the outside of his thighs in exasperation. “This is supposed to be an opportunity for everyone who loves Wyn to come together and celebrate.”
“And you’ve nearly done it,” Sage said, surprising himself with how reassuring it had come out. Roger sounded like he could really use it, though. “We both know he’s going to appreciate all the work you’ve put into this. Even if it is too dark to see.”
Roger laughed and nodded his agreement. “I know you’re right.”
They both turned when Roger’s man Notley appeared.
“Sir, there seems to be an issue in the kitchen.”
“Oh dear.” Roger hurried over to him. “What is it now?”
“It is in regard to the ice cream.” Notley put a special emphasis on the last two words; Sage couldn’t decide if it was because he was unaccustomed to saying them or if he was indicating yet another problem.
Roger’s groan of frustration was answer enough.
Without a glance, he left with Notley. Sage shook his head after them with a faint grin and took the long way back to the house as to not let them be seen returning from the same direction.