CHAPTER7
SAGE
Sage tiltedhis head back as he drained the last of his drink, effectively breaking the trance he’d fallen into as he stared at the healthy fire set in the hearth.A steady, cool rain had been falling all day, which resulted in the entire party being trapped inside.
His original plans of speaking with Roger after breakfast had been thwarted when he was informed that both Roger and Wyndham were occupied with Mr.Moore in the study.After checking in twice, only to be told they were still busy doing whatever it was they were doing behind closed doors, Sage had given up.He found it incredibly discourteous that his hosts would occupy themselves with only one guest and leave the rest of them to come up with their own forms of entertainment.He settled for wandering the halls to observe every piece of artwork he could find and taking a late tea alone, followed by a nap.He had to admit—only to himself—that he was grateful when dinner was called.
The party converged on the dining room a bit more subdued than they had the previous two nights.It seemed the weather left everyone feeling drowsy.However, none appeared to be in low spirits, and soon the conversation was flowing with laughter and smiles abound.Roger regaled the table with mental notes he’d made during another session of observing Mr.Moore’s magic.Sage was unable to decide which was more difficult to see: the self-indulgent gazes of affection that Wyndham gave to his husband as he spoke, or the thoroughly unrestrained pride bursting from Mr.Moore as Roger spoke about his aptitude in very high regard.Practicalandcleverwere the two words he used most.
Before the conclusion of the meal, Miss Thackeray was bouncing in her seat, encouraging everyone to join in a round or two of charades.Sage would have rather plucked out his eyelashes one by one than play such a ridiculous game, but the thought of returning to his empty room again almost felt worse.He’d settled for a strong drink and a seat by the fire a safe distance from where everyone else had gathered around Miss Thackeray and a book of riddles she’d apparently bought in London specifically for this trip.
“That was an easy one,” Lady Anthea Fitzhugh said, her tone on the verge of a complaint.“Give us a challenge.”
Sage turned his attention away from the hearth and set his empty glass on the small table beside his chair.He took the opportunity to covertly observe the group.Miss Thackeray was between Mx.Hillcrest and Mr.Thompson on the sofa; the space separating them on the cushions had been at Miss Thackeray’s demand so neither of them could read over her shoulder.
To their left, Roger sat in a wingback chair with a very worried look on his face.Wyndham was standing behind him with one hand on Roger’s shoulder, the other cradling a glass of wine.On the right were the Ladies Fitzhugh, both leaning in with anticipation.Another chair had been brought forward for Emrys.His arms were draped loosely around Torquil’s waist, who was seated comfortably on his lap.The Rook-Worths had already gone upstairs.
When he finally found Mr.Moore, it was with much surprise.The man was seated on thefloor, of all places, legs stretched out in front of him with one ankle crossed over the other, supporting his weight on both hands behind him.His grin was gentle, but his eyes were still wide and bright, as though he could not possibly get enough of his present company.
Miss Thackeray abruptly stopped flipping the pages of her book, eyes narrowing at the Fitzhughs as a smirk stretched her mouth.
“These ought to give you pause.It’s why I had to travel all the way to the seedy part of town to find a copy.”
“Oh dear,” Roger murmured.
Miss Thackeray cleared her throat theatrically before she read the lines.
“The first, one might wish upon a lovely spring day,
On no account the thoroughbred you’ve bid your coin;
The second, foremost but never proud,
Crest the summit and revel in the beauty below.”
A thick silence came immediately after as everyone’s minds began to work over the words.The Ladies Fitzhugh leaned in close to one another and began whispering.Miss Thackeray read the lines again, careful not to place any emphasis that might give hints to the answer.The frown on Roger’s mouth deepened, and he turned his face up to Wyndham, who looked cautiously thoughtful after a slow sip of his wine.
“The second part must have something to do with position,” he mused.“Summit, crest, below.”
“Perhaps the best of something?”This was Mr.Moore’s contribution.
Wyndham huffed a laugh.“I’ve never known anyone who was the best at anything who wasn’t proud.”He angled a flat look at Emrys, who winked in reply.
“Thoroughbred, that’ll be the races,” Mr.Thompson said in the polished way only a man from London could.“What do we never want to see in a horse?”
“Lameness?”Mx.Hillcrest guessed with uncertainty.Miss Thackeray patted their leg and gave them a reassuring smile.
“A lovely spring day.”Lady Anthea Fitzhugh closed her eyes as if to imagine it.“Sunshine.Flowers blooming.A glass of lemonade.Relaxation.”
Her wife nodded with a dreamy hum.“A treat I would hope never ends.”
Mr.Thompson continued with his line of thought.“The best racehorse is a fast one.Time is money.”
“Time indeed,” Wyndham said before he took another sip of wine.He bent down closer to Roger and worked a few small circles into his husband’s shoulder with his fingers.“What’s that I’ve been telling you about why I enjoy being away from the city?”
Roger winced at being put on the spot, but he gave it some thought.
“Time…away from your family?”he asked.Everyone else laughed gamely, even Emrys.Wyndham made a face that saidyou’re not wrongand kissed the top of Roger’s head.
