Page 42 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

F rom Gardens from Age to Age, A Compendium ?—

Who marks and enjoys the season more than those who work the earth?

In some ways, gardening is a small taste of farming—both groups track the sunshine and rain, storm and drought with urgency.

Gardening expands one’s understanding and appreciation of farmers and weather, alike.

The chill of winter is no longer viewed as a purposeless time to endure—for it is in winter where roots and bulbs, trees and bushes, gather their strength for the growth to come.

James frowned, staring out of his study window, a forgotten paperback held loosely at his side.

Candace had said that marrying Shelbourne would have been a terrible mistake, that getting engaged to him had been, but James couldn’t help but wonder why she had said those things.

Did she regret it because of the scandal it caused—because of the damage to her social standing—or did the regret run deeper?

He, for one, was ever so grateful that Shelbourne was not only a dishonorable man but also, apparently, a dunce—for if a man couldn’t see the value in a woman like Candace Waldrey, he certainly was the finest idiot in all of London.

Thank goodness Shelbourne had no scruples; thank goodness the man was allergic to matrimony as a whole. A man—even a rake—who was slightly less committed to their libertine ideals might see Candace as a boon that had fallen into his lap.

She was the most beautiful lady in London society by half a mile. Not only that—as that might change with the season—but she was kind, clever, and an excellent conversationalist. The fact that she came with a dowry appropriate for Croesus’s daughter couldn’t hurt, either, in such a man’s eyes.

But Shelbourne and Candace had been evenly matched in one way, James supposed—they were both spectacular in their own rights. Candace was the pinnacle of all a society darling might hope to be; Shelbourne was a spectacular idiot.

James couldn’t get the conversation of the previous day out of his head.

She’d complimented his parenting—not as an aside, the way some people did, and certainly not in the disingenuous manner people did when they were hoping not to offend one of superior rank.

Instead, she’d buoyed him in an intelligent way that let him know she’d put thought into the matter.

That right there was enough to plunge a man half into love.

Even if James didn’t consider himself there already, after that conversation, he might have been in danger of it.

For when was the last time he’d felt a kinship, a partnership with anyone like that?

And especially where Arthur was concerned?

He wanted that, he realized. Though he sincerely was trying to do the best possible job of raising Arthur as he could, he was tired of doing it by himself. It wasn’t the parenting that was the main problem—though that in itself was hard work.

It was that James wanted to talk to someone about his son—someone who cared and wasn’t paid to do so.

James certainly couldn’t discuss Arthur in such a vulnerable way with Mrs. Fitzgibbons or the tutors.

Despite their education, they were staff.

If he fired them, they would go away, their loyalty soon bought by another family.

No—James wanted a wife, and not in the simple way that most men of his acquaintance wanted one.

He wanted deep friendship. Conversations.

A true partner who would care as much about Arthur’s rearing as he did.

Selfishly, he also wanted romantic love—that pesky thing he hadn’t quite managed the first time around.

But perhaps James was forgetting one of the most important aspects of the whole issue, which was the fact that Candace’s brother, Percy, wasn’t even in the country.

James couldn’t go to him and ask his permission, as propriety dictated.

Maybe some leeway was warranted in such a matter, however.

Percy had left in a rush and relegated all matters to Devonshire, so perhaps Devonshire would have to do.

James sat and yanked a piece of blank parchment from his desk. This couldn’t wait.

Devonshire,

Since Percy has left all of his responsibilities and holdings in your care while he’s gone, I trust the care of his sisters falls under your purview, as well. Therefore, consider this my notice of intention to formally court Lady Candace Waldrey.

I suspect you have no hesitations to the match; otherwise, you would have made them clear the last time we met. However, if you do have any objection to our courtship and eventual betrothal, I would hear it before I broach the subject with the lady.

Please send your reply with all haste. You were right—patience is overrated, and I’ve come to the end of mine.

Sincerely,

James

He folded the letter, addressed it, sealed it with an abundance of wax, and waved it in the air to cool.