Page 38 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

“After he smokes a cigar. He says it’s a dirty habit, and I should never do it.

But then he does it when he rides his horse alone, and he thinks I don’t know.

As if he doesn’t smell like it when he comes back.

” The boy punctuated his statement with a blergh , and Candace pressed her fist to her mouth to keep herself from laughing aloud.

They waited in silence for a while, until Arthur shifted beside her. “How long do you think this will take?”

“Impossible to say,” she whispered. “It depends upon how good people are at hiding, and how good your father is at seeking.”

“He’s the best,” the boy hissed back, confidently. “He’s the best at everything.”

In the darkness, Candace smiled. She remembered thinking the same of her own father once—that he was the pinnacle of excellence at everything. She was starting to hope that Arthur was right—it was stuffy in the bottom of the closet with her, Arthur, and a giant dog breathing the same air.

“This is fun,” Arthur commented a moment later. “Father won’t let me work on my new puzzle more than a quarter of an hour at a time. He says I’ll beat it too quickly.”

“When did you get a new puzzle? What is it?”

“It’s iron links, all in a row. And you have to get the first ring down to the end without tangling it. Father sent for it from London when he ordered those garden books.”

Candace blinked in surprise and swiped tickling strands of hair from her face. James had told her the books were already in his library, but he’d ordered them specially from London? For her?

“I think he just wants time to figure it out himself,” Arthur continued, oblivious to the firecracker he’d just dropped into her mind. “I think he’s afraid I might figure out the puzzle before he does.”

“Really?” she asked, her mind still plucking through the idea that James had purchased multiple books to encourage her interest.

Such a gift wasn’t inexpensive, though she doubted one such as James would consider them more than a trifle, considering his wealth. Still, it was the thoughtfulness behind the gesture that affected her the most.

“Father doesn’t want to admit I’m better at puzzles than he is,” Arthur said, his tone nearly a normal volume.

“Is that so?” James boomed, and square of light lit upon them as a door was thrown open dramatically.

Candace screamed in sudden fright, then pressed a hand to her racing heart. In crawling so far, they’d accidentally hunkered down directly in front of the second door. In essence, in trying to get to the back of one closet, they’d crawled right to the front of the other.

James offered a hand. “Are you quite all right?”

His words were all that was gracious, but his tone held barely restrained laughter. Candace allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“You frightened me,” she said stiffly.

Arthur came to his feet and frowned up at her. “What’s on your head?”

Candace’s spine stiffened, her eyes wide at the thought of spiders or mice. She reached up tentatively to find out what the matter was, but James frowned down at his son.

“It’s her hair,” he said.

Candace’s fingers prodded the mess that used to be her coiffure. It now felt as if it resembled a bird’s nest. Based on the state of it, she might have preferred to find the aforementioned mouse. She began yanking out pins to try to set it to rights.

“Who did you find first?” Arthur asked, oblivious to her embarrassment. “Who’s the seeker?”

“I heard you through the door, bragging about your puzzle skills, so I suppose it’s you.”

Even with her mouth full of pins while raking her fingers hastily through her hair, Candace couldn’t help but see the flash of trepidation on the boy’s face.

“We were a team in hiding; we’ll seek together,” she mumbled around the pins. “It’s only fair.”

“Don’t forget Seamus! There will be three of us.”

“Yes, perhaps Seamus will sniff people out.” Candace looked uncertainly behind her.

Seamus had nuzzled his face into a coat fallen from one of the hangers. A gentle snore wheezed through his muzzle.

“Only if someone’s stuffed their pockets full of sausages,” James teased. “Arthur, you go ahead and call everyone out of their hiding places.”

“What do I say?”

“All ye, all ye, come in free.”

“Very well.” Arthur scampered from the room.

Rousted by the sudden activity, Seamus woke and hefted himself up, trotting after.

Candace had located a small convex mirror tacked to the wall above an unlit sconce and was repinning her hair into a plain low bun as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t the elaborate confection that Hortense had designed that morning, but it was secure and tidy, and would suffice.

When she turned, it was to find James studying her, something like affection in his gaze. Her heart tripped and tumbled, and she gave a wide smile to cover the emotion.

“What are the odds that you would find us first?”

“Very good, considering I wasn’t about to climb the stairs.”

“That’s very lazy of you.”

“I’ve developed arthritic knees in my old age,” he quipped.

“You’re not old enough for arthritic anything. You’re barely older than Percy, and he’s barely older than I am.”

“I take it you won’t give special credence to any advice I give because of my advanced age, then?” he asked lightly.

“Advanced age. Really. You speak as if you’re a different generation. No—if I listen to your advice it’s because I find it sound, not out of deference to our inconsequential age difference.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That’s good to know.”

His words held weight, as if she’d answered an important question or settled some outstanding matter between them, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think what he meant. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she searched her memory—when had he given her advice?

“Come in all ye who are free!” Arthur yelled in the distance.

James shook his head. “We’d better go fix that.”

But by the time they returned to the entryway, there was a small group of game players with bright cheeks and smiles, and more filtering in by the moment.

“Are we all here?” James said. “Right. Lady Candace and Arthur will be the seekers for this round.”

They covered their eyes and Candace counted loudly, listening carefully to the charge on the stairs, then to the small creaks throughout the house that may have been the wind, or might have been hints as to where people were hiding.

“Ready or not, here we come!” they chorused.

Instinct had her turning toward the stairs. Thankfully, Arthur had the same idea. Seamus, ever affable, lumbered his way up behind them. On the landing, Arthur turned to her with expressive eyes, indicating right, then left, then shrugging.

“You choose,” she whispered.

There hardly was a reason for their silence—they were the seekers, not the hiders this time. Still, perhaps a creaking floorboard or a muted giggle might direct their path.

Arthur pointed left; they followed his finger.

Left was a comfortable sitting room with draperies that nearly dusted the floor.

Two comfortable sofas squared off in front of a marble fireplace.

Candace suspected this had been the primary salon of the lady of the house, as the wallpaper was distinctly feminine—a floral upon feather pattern—and the sofas upholstered in a cheerful damask instead of the leather throughout the rest of the house.

Candace swiped her fingers along the carved back of one of the sofas while Arthur gleefully pulled back the curtains.

He turned back toward her, the edges of his mouth downturned when all he discovered behind the curtains were windows.

Candace scanned the room, looking for any other possible hiding spots, but the furniture was sparse and spindly.

She shook her head, then tilted it to the side, indicating they should look elsewhere.

They crept into the library next door. Simple, stoic wooden bookcases covered the walls from floor to ceiling, with a deep window seat beneath each of the windows.

The curtains had been pulled over each. Candace arched an eyebrow.

She’d spent a sullen afternoon cloistered in this room when they first arrived; she was well acquainted with the window seats. They would be an excellent hiding spot.

Candace nodded toward the one on the right, just as a low rustle sounded from that direction.

Arthur eyes lit up; he flung back the curtain with a shrill, “Aha!”

Hortense broke away from Thomas with a small scream. Candace’s eyebrows shot upward, even as Hortense’s face began to turn scarlet.

Arthur’s nose screwed up. “Eew. Were they kissing ?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Candace interjected smoothly. “She was helping him adjust his collar, nothing more.”

It was only the innocence of childhood that had him nodding as if that explanation made perfect sense. For their part, Hortense and Thomas could hardly have acted any guiltier—Hortense wouldn’t meet their eyes, and Thomas kept yanking at his aforementioned collar.

“Is it itchy?” Arthur asked. “I have a shirt with an itchy collar. I hate it, but my governess makes me wear it to church. Then she gets mad at me for squirming, but it’s hardly my fault. ”

“Anyway, we caught you!” Candace said, her words maniacally bright. “I believe I saw Thomas first, so he shall be the new seeker. Arthur, run downstairs and let everyone know they can come out safely.”

Arthur charged out of the room, eager to perform his crucial task.

Candace pressed her lips together, trying to think of what to say, but her mind was bereft of any good ideas. Finally, she just turned and stiffly walked away.

It wasn’t her place to lecture Hortense on propriety—her maid was one of the strictest persons she’d ever known, in that area. Neither was it her place to encourage some sort of formal union. Candace had personal experience as to how disastrous such measures could be.

Besides, knowing Hortense, being caught by her employer and a small boy would be sufficiently mortifying to produce a change in behavior—if in fact a change of behavior was needed.

Candace couldn’t possibly know, just happening upon them, whether the kiss had been a passing fancy of immature curiosity (as it had been in her own case), or if she’d witnessed the sealing of some solemn vow. Only time—and Hortense—could tell.

Candace entered the hall at the same time as James did.

He apparently had been hiding in the room opposite the library.

His hair was slightly rumpled, to a charming effect.

She must have had a strange expression on her face, for he tilted his head in question at her, his brow lowering.

She shook her head, eyes wide, a flush to her cheeks.

His attention shifted to just behind her and his face smoothed, a twinkle of understanding glimmering in his eyes but for a moment .

“Arthur and I found Thomas in the library,” Candace said lightly, keeping her attention centered on James as Hortense and Thomas skulked out of the room behind her.

“I see.” Though his words were even, it appeared he was holding back laughter.

Candace glanced at the couple. Thomas and Hortense hadn’t used the moments alone to collect themselves.

If anything, they somehow appeared more guilty.

Hortense’s flush had ripened to the color of a fresh cherry, and Thomas kept yanking at his collar in an agitated manner until Hortense finally slapped his hand away.

It was amazing she was able to do so without meeting his eyes. Both of them trailed off down the hallway, avoiding the gaze of the other players, who were slowly extricating themselves from their hiding spots. Luckily, only Candace and James seemed to notice their discomfort.

She stepped closer to him so as not to be overheard. “If Arthur asks, Hortense was helping Thomas adjust his collar.”

James's laugh boomed forth, startling Candace and one of the maids, who gave a little scream and clutched the bannister to keep from falling down the stairs.

Candace shushed him, glancing over her shoulder. “It isn’t funny.”

“You and I can disagree on that point, but I assure you, I’ll do my utmost to uphold the story of the ill-fitting collar.” He grinned. “To admit otherwise would encourage questions I’m not yet prepared to answer.”

“Yes, well.” Candace smoothed her skirts. “I can’t imagine what they were thinking.”

“I can,” James deadpanned.

Candace swatted at his shoulder.

Vera appeared at James's other elbow, patting at her hair. “It took me an age to climb out of that armoire. What did I miss?”

“Nothing of note,” Candace said, a bit too quickly.

James grinned. “Only that there are some excellent hiding spots to be had in the library.”

“Not that excellent. We found them.”

“Them?” Vera asked.

“Thomas and his ill-fitting collar,” James said in mock solemnity.

Vera wrinkled her nose adorably. “Pardon?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Candace tugged at Vera’s sleeve to prevent further questions. “Quick, let’s go downstairs—the next round is starting.”