38. Sage #2
Sage was certain that his heart was melting in his chest faster than the ice cream Roger had been so worried about. He answered with a small nod and allowed himself to be swept up into what was the most wonderful dance he’d ever been a part of.
By the time supper was served, everyone was relieved to rest their feet for a while. The meal was a grand affair in its own right. Serving dishes overflowed with what turned out to be all of Wyndham’s favorite foods, plus a few other items to fill in the gaps.
Across the table, Lady Anthea scoffed. “Harriet, what are you doing?”
She was shifting around in her chair with a disgruntled expression.
“I am attempting to remove my shoes,” Harriet explained. “This bloody dress makes everything so difficult.”
“Perhaps you should try trousers?” This was Lady Imogen’s suggestion.
Harriet stilled. “That would be incredible.”
Lady Anthea tutted. “Your poor mother would simply expire.”
“First order of business when we return to London,” Harriet announced, “we are all going shopping!”
Cyril gave her a long, assessing look and then returned to his meal. “You and Conrad are about the same size. It would do well for you both to find a tailor who can work with such petite measurements.”
Harriet’s eyes lit up. “Conrad, might I try some of yours on before we go?”
Lady Anthea nearly spit out her drink. It gained the attention of some of the other guests sitting nearby.
Conrad laughed and gave an indifferent shrug. “I wouldn’t mind it.”
Lady Anthea shrilled. “You cannot simply go around trying on someone else’s clothes! Besides, I would hardly recognize you without a dress.”
Unexpectedly, Emrys leaned his way into the conversation.
“And who gave you the authority to determine who is allowed to change their appearance to suit their fancy?” It was perhaps the most serious thing Sage had ever heard him say.
On Emrys’ other side, Torquil was speaking with someone else, a beautiful comb glinting in their dark curls and a most innocent sweep of rouge sitting on their high cheekbones.
Vastly different from the dull print shop garb they’d worn not six months earlier.
Lady Anthea swallowed her words.
Emrys turned his attention on Conrad, expression softening.
“But she is correct,” he said, signature smirk returning to his lips. “You’ll have to find someone else’s clothes to borrow. The only one getting into Conrad’s trousers is Sage.”
The end of their supper was marked with the reveal of a most sumptuous dessert table.
Sage had seen what Roger spent on the display, but to see the entire contents of a patisserie uprooted and laid out for this simple garden party in the country was something else entirely.
If there was one part of the planning Roger had been selfish with, it was this, and they were all the more fortunate for it.
Tiers of pastries, tarts, and small cakes surrounded a larger cake decorated with icing and a few flowers that looked similar to the ones from the garden.
Organized chaos ensued as everyone scrabbled for a place in line.
Wyndham and Roger stood beside the table and took turns forking mouthfuls off a shared slice of the lemon cake, pausing in between to thank everyone for coming and wishing them a safe journey back to wherever they’d arrived from.
Somewhere behind the trees, the sky had started to lighten along the horizon.
After carefully filling a single plate between them, Sage and Conrad decided to take their spoils to the garden so that they might find some solitude.
They exchanged a grin as they passed by the rickety bench beneath the willow and instead settled on one near some fragrant rose bushes.
The light pink blooms watched as they took bites of each confection, both of them slowly coming to the conclusion that it would be impossible to pick a clear favorite.
When only one bite of a berry tart remained, Sage clasped his hands in his lap and leaned away slightly.
“You should have it,” he encouraged.
“Absolutely not,” Conrad challenged. “It’s yours.”
Sage shook his head. “I want you to have it.”
“I will not.” Conrad picked it up and brought it toward Sage’s mouth. Sage turned his head away with a bubble of soft laughter, but Conrad went after him, leaning closer as he grasped the back of Sage’s neck with his other hand to keep him from escaping. Sage yelped and grabbed his wrist.
“I relent!” he pleaded, opening his mouth so Conrad could feed him.
“So stubborn,” Conrad grumbled, though it was laced with affection.
“I never promised you otherwise.”
Conrad gave a gentle hum. “Only the mutual benefit of a temporary arrangement, if I remember correctly?”
Sage’s grin fell as fast as his magic in his chest. “Yes.”
“I suppose we both got what we were after,” Conrad went on, moving their empty plate to his other side so he could slide closer to Sage on the bench.
Sage looked down as Conrad took both of his hands, wrapping his fingers around them on his lap. He noted how warm they always were compared to his own. “I suppose we did.”
“I’ve something exciting to tell you.”
Sage met his gaze, smiling bravely. “Oh?”
“Torquil has offered me a place to stay when I arrive in London. They said I’ll be doing them a favor by taking up residence in their townhouse, which I’m not entirely sure that I believe, but I am not so proud as to pass up such an opportunity when it is given.”
As heavy as the moment felt, Sage could not deny the relief that washed over him. He would’ve been willing to find Conrad no matter where he settled, even if it meant visiting the worst parts of the city. The street Torquil’s townhouse sat on was a far cry from the docks.
“Apparently they are eager to see Mrs. Pimpernel removed from the difficult memories there.”
Sage thought of the affection he’d seen her share with Iris Wrenwhistle.
“It will be no hardship for her to find a soft place to land,” he guessed.
“An ideal situation for all parties,” Conrad said, giving Sage’s hands a gentle squeeze. “I’m to travel with her to London so that she might instruct me on running the household. It will make for a smooth transition, and it will give me something to do until the Council reconvenes.”
The news left Sage unable to take a full breath.
“You’re leaving…tonight?”
“Yes.” Conrad flashed a mischievous smirk. “Fortunately, it will not take me long to pack.”
Suddenly, Sage was angry. How could he find humor in a moment like this? As the emotion took over his features, brow furrowing and lips curving into a frown, Sage pulled his hands away and stood up.
“You cannot leave now,” he said weakly.
Conrad’s surprise was evident. He reached after Sage as he got to his feet, reclaiming both of his hands. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “We both knew I would have to leave eventually.”
“But not like this!” Sage felt them then, all of his unspoken words, rising up to be heard even if he did not feel entirely prepared to say them.
The man had that effect on him from the very beginning.
“I—” he tried, before letting out a huff and staring at their joint hands, unable to look Conrad in the eye.
“I do not want to be apart from you. The trifling idea of it is enough to put me out of sorts.”
“Sage,” Conrad breathed, reaching to cup his cheek. Sage wished he hadn’t. It only made it harder to continue without more emotion creeping into his voice.
“I meant to ask you to come with me instead,” Sage went on, thoughts a tangle even as he said them. “You could spend the rest of the summer with me. You could meet my family.” He was certain that they would all adore him.
Conrad’s answering smile was steady, if not a little sad.
“I would love nothing more than to meet your family,” he said, thumb stroking Sage’s cheek.
“And I fully intend to do just that, once we’re all back in London.
” A pang of hurt in Sage’s chest made him wince.
“It will give me the time I need to settle. A shopping trip with Harriet sounds like great fun, but I suspect I’ll add a few pieces to my wardrobe before then.
Perhaps I’ll buy a pair of shoes that do not smell like lake water.
” Sage was able to manage a pitiful, slightly wet laugh at that.
“By the time you see me again, I’ll look like a true gentleman. ”
Sage leaned into his palm. “I like you just as you are.”
Conrad’s smile grew. “I was hoping you’d say that. It will make our courtship far easier, from what I understand.”
Sage’s entire world slowed to a stop.
“Our what?” he whispered.
“It wouldn’t do for me to show up at your family’s estate looking like this and expect to make a good impression. I am only a simple man from Bristol, but I know that much. I want your parents to feel confident that I will be able to look after you when I ask for your hand.” He gave a small shrug.
Sage blinked once, twice, vaguely aware that his hands were shaking.
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
Conrad’s brows went up. “Oh, er…yes. I thought you realized.”
Sage’s jaw dropped as his magic twirled. “ You ,” he said with slow emphasis, “want to marry me ?”
Conrad nodded eagerly. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
“I—” Sage wheezed. “I need to sit down.”
They found the bench again together. Sage stared intently at his shoes while Conrad rubbed a hand on his back.
How many times had he dreamed of this exact moment—being proposed to in a lush Wrenwhistle garden by the man that he loved.
When he finally managed to collect himself, he turned slowly to find Conrad’s waiting grin.
“This was…a dream. A fantasy. Life is not like this in London.”
“I am not afraid of working hard to make my dreams come true,” Conrad reminded him. “Is this not what you want?”
“It is everything I have ever wanted,” Sage said, a little breathless.
“Then you shall have it.”
Sage studied his face for a moment in the earliest morning light, searching his eyes for something he already knew he would not find.
There was no uncertainty. No hidden emotions whatsoever.
Conrad was exactly as Sage had ever known him to be—confident, hopeful, and wholly himself.
As he wrapped his arms around Conrad’s neck, he set his magic free, allowing himself to be all of those things too, in a way he never felt that he could until now.
“You strange creature,” he whispered against Conrad’s lips just before he kissed him.