‘I think Hal had a good day!’ she called through to Rafe, who was sitting in an armchair in the adjoining bedroom, reading the papers.
‘What makes you think that?’ Rafe asked wryly, one eye still on theRacing Post. He rustled the page as he turned it. ‘My mother hasn’t shut up about their day either. It’s rather sweet. And I think she’s a big fan of yours, too.’
‘Are you sure? I’m worried that she wanted more for you than a single mother with a failed marriage under her belt.’
‘Oh, do give her some credit, Sage. Besides, I’ve already told her that I love you.’
Sage was struck dumb by this declaration and after a moment of absolute silence, Rafe padded into the bathroom to check she was all right. The look of astonishment on her face made him chuckle.
Taking pity on her, he sat on the side of the bath.
‘I love you,’ Rafe said simply. He stroked her cheek softly with his hand, the rough surface of his strong, calloused fingers light on her smooth skin.
‘I love you too.’
His fingers slid to her chin and he tilted her mouth upwards, meeting her lips as he leant towards her. She kissed him deeply, allowing herself to melt into him.
Some time later, Sage stood in front of the looking glass, dressed for dinner in a long silk skirt and a linen shirt that she had borrowed from Betsy. She hurriedly applied mascara and hooked on her pearl earrings.
Rafe looked at his wristwatch and slipped his feet into his shoes. He appeared behind her in the mirror’s reflection.
‘I am going to go and make us a couple of stiff drinks. Come down in your own time.’
Sage clung to him for a moment, drawing strength from him.
‘How did I get so lucky? Seriously, what made you choose me?’ she wondered aloud.
He smiled at her fondly.
‘It’s the way that you sit on a horse. You have got thebestseat.’
Sage burst out laughing.
‘The funny thing is that you probably mean it!’ She stepped away from Rafe and went to put on her shoes. ‘I’m ready now, we can go down together,’ she said brightly and, steeling herselffor Mary Dunbarton and the night ahead, she moved him towards the door.
They were late going down; the others had finished their drinks and were waiting by the time they arrived in the drawing room. Constance, resplendent in black velvet, looked relieved when she saw them.
‘Right, chaps, we can go in for dinner now,’ she said, marching into the dining hall. ‘Sage dear, you can sit next to Walter, with Louis on your other side. Rafe, you can sit at my end next to Vanessa. Mary, please may you look after Reverend Haviland and his wife?’ she asked, not waiting for a reply or noticing Mary’s sullen expression. Instead, she flapped her hands at Sage – who was hovering beside her, reluctant to leave Rafe’s side – and ushered her to her place before turning to urge several more guests, none of whom Sage recognized, to be seated. Rafe gave Sage a helpless shrug, then moved along the table and pulled out Vanessa’s chair, politely gesturing for her to sit down. Sage dug her nails into the palm of her hand at the sight of Vanessa’s megawatt smile, but he appeared oblivious. Louis appeared at her side, smirking like a tiger contemplating a deer. He, too, pulled back a chair for her. Sage ignored him ungraciously, sitting down with an audible huff.
‘Come now, I’m not that bad. Give me a chance … I’ll win you over.’ Louis’s eyes glinted in the candlelight. His leg brushed against hers as he sat down. He was, as usual, scruffily dressed, wearing jeans and a ripped grey T-shirt that had a very faded Harrow School rugby team logo pressed onto the back. His hair was darker than normal, still wet from his bath, and his flawless skin glowed in the candlelight.
‘Why are you so tanned?’ Sage asked grumpily.
‘I’ve been in Corfu, shooting a film. It was hot,’ Louis said simply, ignoring her sniping. ‘Red or white?’ he asked, a bottle in each hand.
‘Red, please.’ She thawed slightly at the sight of Rafe, seated four places along the table, fighting a yawn while Vanessa leant closely towards him and eagerly chattered in his ear.
‘Good girl. That’s better,’ Louis said, filling up her glass. ‘Did Hal go down all right?’
Sage was surprised that Louis would have even retained such information as her son’s name, let alone ask after Hal. She took a sip of her wine and checked herself; perhaps she had judged him too harshly.
‘Oh yes. Hal. He settled down eventually – thank you.’
He met her gaze with sky-blue eyes that looked sincere and almost a little unsure of himself. She was startled again by the Dunbarton family resemblance; for a fleeting second, he looked so like Rafe in the flickering light, just as Kestrel had.
Sage ate her soup in silence until Louis leant in again towards her.
‘There’s a reason I invited Mary down.’ He spoke softly, and Sage had to tilt her head towards him in order to hear him properly. ‘I saw her with Santiago Deverill a few nights ago.’
