Page 25 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

“How can I help you, Miss…” he said, trailing off into silence so that she’d finish his sentence.

“Hortense.”

Candace blinked; she’d never heard her maid speak in such a way—slightly breathy and obviously discomfited. Candace hid a smile when she spied the flush that settled upon Hortense’s normally pale cheeks.

“Very nice to meet you, Miss Hortense.”

Thomas stepped behind the counter, spread the quilts before his father, and began wrapping their previous selections with brown paper and string.

Hortense watched him with the same attention a cat gives a sleeping terrier across the room—as if she were intrigued but slightly worried by his presence, all at once.

Candace kept half her attention on Hortense and Thomas as she continued to run through the items on her list like a general on the eve of battle. Her mind whirred, trying to devise a way to throw them closer together .

She smiled when the idea came to her. “Hortense, will you please check the quality of the quilts? I must speak with Vera about some of her selections.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Candace took Vera by the arm and led her to a nearby shelf.

“My selections?” Vera murmured, smiling.

“You and I both know my true motivation in leading you away. Let’s pretend to discuss this…” Candace distractedly picked up the first item her hand landed on. “This figurine.”

“What is it?”

Upon further examination, it was a clock, though an exceedingly strange one. It was a porcelain stack of garishly bright citrus fruits—oranges, lemons, and limes—with a clock face stuck oddly in the center of the lone pink grapefruit.

“It’s ghastly ,” Candace said.

Vera gave a sly smile. “I think it would lovely in your room, were you to buy it.”

“Oh no. I do believe it would go perfectly in yours .”

“I assume you dragged me over here to give them a moment?” Vera inclined her head back toward the counter.

Candace and Vera turned to watch. Thomas could barely keep his eyes from Hortense as she dutifully inspected the quilts.

Candace grinned and murmured, “He looks quite taken with her.”

“It’s a wonder it doesn’t happen more often. Hortense is very pretty.”

“I think it’s her height that intimidates most young men.”

“What are we whispering about, ladies?” James murmured from just behind them.

Candace yelped and dropped the clock; James lunged forward and caught it before it shattered upon the ground.

“Goodness, it would have been a shame to lose this…” He frowned down at the strange stack of fruit.

“It’s a clock,” Vera said helpfully.

“So it is.” He handed it back to Candace, who put it back on the shelf.

“What brings you into town?” she asked.

“Arthur has made it through all of his puzzles.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s exceptionally clever.”

“I think I saw one toward the back shelf.” Vera gestured toward the far corner. “I will stay and monitor the situation.”

Candace and James moved further into the shop. Once they were out of view of the counter, he asked, “What situation needs Vera’s monitoring?”

“Oh, nothing.” She felt her cheeks heating, so she sighed and admitted, “I believe the shopkeeper’s son holds a tenderness for Hortense.”

“Doubtless you’ve found a way to encourage it.”

“You needn’t use that tone.” She scoured the shelves for something to entertain Arthur and headed down the aisle. “Hortense is quite capable of deciding such matters for herself. I only gave her the opportunity for closeness if she desired it.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Candace narrowed her eyes at the laughter in his voice. “ The blankets were all finely stitched, had no visible wear upon the edges, and were made of sturdy fabric that would stand up well to washing.”

“I beg your pardon?” James smiled down at her.

They stood close in the aisle, and Candace was suddenly very aware of the size of him. James was broad in the shoulder, a nice tall height, with a sun-tanned face that spoke of all his hours walking and riding.

Candace was struck with how handsome he was.

Though she’d noticed such thing in passing before, it had always been in the way one admires a beautiful bonnet when one isn’t in the market for another—an appreciation for how well-made something was, with the understanding that it would go to someone else.

Though perhaps that analogy wasn’t quite right, as Candace was always in the market for a new bonnet.

Standing near to James in a crowded shop, it occurred to Candace for the first time that she was well and truly unattached. Under such circumstances, James’s handsomeness—which she’d always been aware of—seemed to press upon her inexorably.

Especially when he stared down at her the way he was, his dark hair brushed just so against his forehead, his intelligent eyes alight with curiosity at the topic they were speaking of…

What had they been speaking of?

As the question alighted in her mind, James’s head tilted and his smile grew. “Candace? Why were you extolling the attributes of the shopkeeper’s quilts?”

She flushed, turned, and hurried down the aisle. “My point was Mr. Harris only had the three quilts in stock and they were all well-made. Hortense could have escaped Thomas’s proximity in moments, if she so desired. Yet, she lingered .”

“Ah.”

The word was spoken just behind her. Candace had meant to put a bit of distance between them, but her stride was no match for his. Drat the man’s well-formed long legs!

“Would Arthur like this?” She said desperately, groping for something—anything—on the shelf.

James’s lips pressed together in an obvious attempt not to laugh. When she saw what she held, Candace couldn’t blame him.

He said, “One can hardly buy a young boy a hand drill and expect his house to remain standing for very long.”

“Right.” She put the tool down and turned away.

“This thing with Hortense has you quite flustered, doesn’t it?”

Candace thought it as good an excuse as any.

She certainly couldn’t admit the truth of the matter—that she was driven to distraction at the quiet rustle of James’s wool trousers as he walked.

That she couldn’t focus because the smell of him—soap and just a hint of cigar smoke—was too near for anything close to comfort.

“She’s a very good lady’s maid,” she murmured, desperately searching for something Arthur might like, in order to change the subject.

“I know you, Candace, and you’d never deprive your friends of happiness, if it was in your power to give it.”

She froze and whirled to face him, frowning. “Of course not. If she wishes to marry the fellow, I’ll not stand in her way.”

“Marriage? I thought they’d only just met.”

“You didn’t see the way he looked at her.” Candace began paging through a set of picture books on the shelf.

“It’s a wonder you see it so clearly when that kind of gaze is applied to someone else,” he murmured.

She glanced up. “Pardon?”

“Nothing.” He pointed at a glass case against the wall containing several hat stands. “Are you interested in a new bonnet, perhaps?”

“No!” she snapped.

At James’s raised brows, Candace cleared her throat and managed a smile. “That is, I’m not looking for a new bonnet at the moment. Thank you.”

A half an hour later, the ladies took their leave of James and Mr. Harris’s shop.

“It’s a shame that Thomas is too busy to carry our purchases home right now,” Candace said, a smile on her lips and a sly twinkle in her eye. She arched a brow at Hortense. “Still, it gives one something to look forward to; he says he’ll deliver them this afternoon if the weather holds.”

“I have no doubt even the strongest gale couldn’t keep him away,” Vera added, though her tone was far more guileless than Candace’s .

Candace’s eyes narrowed slightly at her friend—she couldn’t decide if Vera was just very good at casually joining in on the topic or if she was unaware of Candace’s teasing. Then Vera gave Candace the slightest of winks; Candace grinned.

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” Hortense said stiffly, “but if the situation were reversed, I would not be able to join in on the merrymaking. The difference in our stations prevents me from making jokes at your expense.”

“Oh, Hortense, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to poke fun at you, not at all. But you must have noticed the way that young man looked at you—he didn’t look anywhere else the duration of our visit!”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Hortense frowned.

“Please tell me you’re joking! At one point he tied his own finger into the knot so completely that he had to cut it free with scissors. Or did you miss that while you were making a close study of the quilts?”

“They were very beautiful,” she said with a sniff.

Vera smiled. “Thomas thought you were very beautiful, Hortense. And he’s absolutely right.”

“Indeed.” Candace was quick to agree. “The miracle is that no young man has yet tried to steal you away from service to me, what with that flawless skin, your lovely figure, and your gorgeous hair.”

“A couple have tried, my lady,” Hortense grumbled, even as she patted her chignon.

Vera looked sideways to hide a smile, but Candace caught it anyway.

“Perhaps Thomas will be the one to succeed.”

“I’m not looking to make a change in my profession, my lady. I won’t abandon you for the first handsome man who looks my way.”

“Certainly not. Not for the first one. And not unless he’s kind and loyal, with good prospects for the future. You must meet his mother before you decide anything. You can learn a lot by how a man treats his mother.”

“Did you ever meet Shelbourne’s mother?” Vera asked. Then her eyes widened and she swallowed deeply.

Candace patted her arm to reassure her. Though the very mention of the man’s name was odious, she knew Vera would never intentionally hurt her.

Other peers might slip Shelbourne’s name into conversation—as casually precise as an assassin’s dagger between the ribs—then watch slyly to see her reaction.

But Vera had no talent or taste for cruelty.

“No,” Candace said. “I never had the chance to meet his mother. Perhaps if I’d watched them together, I might have seen him for who he was. Then again, perhaps I was willfully ignorant.”

“I’m sorry, Candace, I?—”

“No need for apologies. I know you meant no harm. I don’t want you to feel you must edit your thoughts and words around me. I’m not sure it would have even mattered if I had seen him with his mother.” Candace shrugged. “He doubtless would have pretended they had an excellent relationship.”

“He was a skilled actor, to be sure.”

“That may be to his benefit.” Candace lifted her chin and skirted the edge of a puddle. “If rumor is to be believed, he’s gambling his way through his inheritance. He very well may be in want of a profession to support himself before long—acting may be just the thing.”

“Candace, Vera!” The commanding call had them turning to see the baroness walking up the street. Her long strides quickly brought her even with them. “Enjoying a morning stroll?”

Candace nodded. “The household was in want of a few items.”

“It’s good you’re there to give it a woman’s touch. Men don’t see the needs of a house the way we do—they seem to think that if the roof is sound and there’s a comfortable place to sit, that’s the end of it.”

Candace arched an eyebrow. It surprised her to hear the baroness speak in such a way.

Perhaps it was because the lady rode astride and was rarely unarmed.

Today, her weapon of choice was a thick black walking stick that matched perfectly with her long grey coat, black trousers, and the charcoal riding hat pinned at a jaunty angle upon her head.

A great quantity of white lace tufted at her throat and around her wrists.

No one could claim that the baroness didn’t wear her eccentricities exceedingly well.

“Indeed,” Vera said. “Candace just purchased quilts for the servants to make them more comfortable. She’s placed an order for sitting chairs for their rooms, as well.”

“I’ll have to see to the comfort of my servants to ensure you don’t steal them all away once they hear of it. It’s the mark of a good lady when she cares for her household staff in such a way.”

Candace frowned, uncomfortable with the compliment. She was just doing what was right; no one should thank her for it. “I should imagine your staff is quite happily settled if you believe so.”

The baroness smiled. “You ladies should join me for luncheon, if you’ve finished with your shopping.”

“Oh, thank you, but—” Candace began.

“I’m afraid I won’t take no for an answer, especially since, as they say, you don’t have your bullet in the chamber on the topic. Feel free to return home and refresh yourselves first, if you must. Luncheon will be served at one.”

Then she stalked away up the street as if the matter had been decided.

Vera turned to Candace. “Have you ever heard such a saying? About the bullet and the chamber, I mean?”

“I have not.”