Page 45 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

F rom Flowers and Botany, Volume III-

Though the petals of the crocus appear quite fragile, it is one of the hardiest flowers, which often blooms while snow still covers the earth. The bright flash of purple or yellow against the cold is a reminder that spring is coming and warmer days are fast approaching.

Two days after the dinner party, Candace fidgeted in the parlor that faced the front drive. She examined the books upon the shelves, then the paintings hanging on the walls. She didn’t want to admit that she was waiting, but she was.

When the jingling of livery and crunching of gravel in the drive announced a visitor, she walked to a point at the back of the room where she might look out of the window without being seen from outside.

The glossy blue-black of James's carriage flashed past, and Candace pressed a hand to her heart to calm the hitch in her breathing.

Ever since the dinner, she’d been able to think of little else except James's deep voice reciting lines from her ridiculous romance novels. She lay awake at night and remembered the resonant timbre of the outlandish words, somehow made completely new by his recitation.

It was hardly a surprise when Benson announced James and Arthur, but it was a shock to her system all the same. Candace hoped her serene smile covered the jolt of her heart.

She pressed her fingers to her side to keep them from trembling. “Good morning, James, Arthur.”

Candace couldn’t help but notice that James looked particularly attractive that morning. He wore tailored charcoal-colored trousers tucked into polished boots. As they were to go walking, he’d kept his dark coat on over his crisp white shirt. He held his hat in his hand.

He smiled at her, and a fluttering exploded in her stomach; she wondered if she could pass off the disconcerting feeling as illness and postpone.

As soon as she had the thought, she batted it away.

This outing was of her making. Besides, she’d rather ignore her silly emotions than miss out on a morning with two of her favorite people.

Seamus grunted and flopped down between James and Candace as if fully aware she hadn’t included him in her greeting and was sorely put out at the fact.

“Good morning to you too, Seamus.” She bent down and ruffled a hand through the soft fur on his head. He halfheartedly lifted a paw, encouraging her to redirect her ministrations to his stomach.

James shook his head. “No, you big oaf. We have other things to do this morning than to pet you. ”

“He’s not an oaf, Father,” Arthur said. “He’s a good boy.”

“That matter is up for debate, as always. Especially after what he did in the entryway this morning.” James winced, as if just remembering Candace was there.

“It’s not his fault,” Arthur protested. “He was trying to get out.”

“I don’t blame the dog; I blame whoever’s been sneaking him leftovers.”

“I didn’t feed him cheese, I promise.”

Candace pressed her lips together to hide her smile; this was obviously the continuation of a conversation they’d been having on the way over.

“Pea soup isn’t any better, Arthur. It’s ravaged the dog’s insides.”

“I thought vegetables were supposed to be good for us.”

James sighed and looked heavenwards as if for help. “Dogs and people are different . How many times do we need to have this discussion before you remember?”

Arthur stood up straight, his eyes bright with realization. “Maybe I’m more like a dog, then, because pea soup doesn’t agree with my insides, either.”

Candace couldn’t help the inappropriate laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Forgive us, Candace,” James said. “Apparently, living alone has made us unfit for a lady’s company.”

“Not at all. You forget I grew up with Percy; it would take valiant effort to shock me. Still, let’s get Seamus out into nature, in case nature calls once more.”

“Oh, there couldn’t possibly be anything left,” Arthur assured her solemnly. “You didn’t see the size of the mess in the entryway.”

“ Arthur !”

Candace stepped into the hallway, leaving the father and son to a furiously whispered conversation.

She smiled as she accepted Benson’s help into the coat Hortense had hung in the entry before departing to the village.

Her maid had promised to check for post, but Candace had also asked her to check on the progress of the quilts with Thomas’s father, in case Hortense needed an excuse to see the young man.

When James and Arthur finally joined her, Arthur’s head hung a bit. Candace fastened the jet-black buttons of her deep-green jacket and tugged on her matching emerald-colored gloves.

“Lady Candace, I’m very sorry for the inappropriate comments I made,” the boy said before glancing at his father.

James nodded, and Arthur ducked his head once more.

“Apology accepted, though I don’t believe it was necessary. You and I are close friends, Arthur, which opens up a wide variety of topics that might otherwise be inappropriate.”

Arthur studied her and chewed his lip while considering her words. “We are?” he finally asked.

“Of course.” She reached down and squeezed his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have specifically asked for you to join me today if that weren’t the case.”

The boy’s countenance brightened. “What about Seamus? Is he your close friend, too? ”

“Indeed.” She nodded briskly. “I’m very glad he’s recovered from his momentary illness to escort us today. We’ll need his keen nose and bravery in case there’s something inside the garden folly.”

“I don’t know how much help he’ll be.” Arthur wrinkled his nose. “He’s even afraid of cats.”

When they ventured out the back door, a mist still clung to the earth, tucked into the dips of the fields.

The sun was no more than a smudge of brightness behind the grey of clouds.

Hortense had been right to set out one of her sturdier walking ensembles—Candace was grateful for the warm wool of her dress and overcoat and the fine make of her flat-soled boots.

But she wasn’t one to sacrifice aesthetic for practicality, and today was no different—the coat was daringly edged in a thin strip of matching leather at the hem and along the seams. Her hat was a miniature version of a man’s top hat, fastened by a fearsome pin stuck through a brass grommet on either side.

Seamus and Arthur led the way, plowing through the long grass with all the enthusiasm of intrepid explorers. James and Candace stuck to the ruts of a long, overgrown road. A couple of birds winged overhead, cutting through the dreary sky toward the copse of trees at the edge of the property.

“I hope that Seamus’s presence didn’t keep Vera from joining us this morning.”

“Not at all—she walked to visit the baroness and her hedgehog, Sheldon.”

“The hedgehog’s name is Sheldon?” He arched an eyebrow.

“You seem surprised.”

“It’s just... Sheldon .” He repeated the name with deep disapproval. “Seems like a missed opportunity, is all.”

“How so?”

“Animals’ names should hint at what they are. Think of all the wasted chances for alliteration. Henry the Hedgehog. Or Hattie.”

“I believe Sheldon is a boy,” she teased. “He might balk at the name ‘Hattie’ on principle.”

“Very well. But there’s still Heathcliff, Hector, or Howard.” He ticked them off on gloved fingers.

“Don’t forget Hugh and Harry.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Indeed.”

“Your reasoning is very sound, but how do you expect others to follow the rules you set forth when you disregard them so boldly?” She nodded toward the boy and the dog. “By your guidelines, Seamus should be named something that begins with ‘d’ for dog.”

“Nonsense. It would have been ‘m’ for mastiff.”

“Ah, and yet, his name begins with an unrelated letter altogether.”

“His name has a grand connotation that somehow fits the beast.”

A few yards away, Seamus lumbered atop the berm once more and gave a great shake, showering Arthur with strings of drool flung from his flapping jowls. Arthur groaned, sounding half-disgusted, half-delighted, in the way only young boys could manage.

“It’s true,” Candace said. “Seamus is a noble name.”

“Indeed. It wouldn’t have been right to name him Fluffy or Mr. Twidderkins.”

“ Mr. Twidderkins ?” Candace stopped dead in the road from the shock of hearing such a ridiculous utterance from James's mouth.

James rolled his eyes, though she swore his cheeks went a little pink. “We can just forget that one altogether.”

“Not likely.”

“The point is, a large dog deserves a name worthy of him. Magnus or Rupert or Knight or Titan. Something of that ilk.”

“Mr. Twidderkins ?”

James laughed.

A thicket of young trees partially shielded the garden folly from view of the house, which was why Candace hadn’t noticed the structure when she’d first arrived at Devon Manor.

Thankfully, the overgrown road they walked hadn’t been too badly encroached by the saplings; still, Candace accepted James's help over a moldering log in their path.

The structure itself was round in shape, with a central staircase leading into a circular portico dotted with large columns. Nearly three stories tall, it stood proudly on a rise overlooking the small lake.

The building was far larger than Candace had anticipated. It was built of marble, in the Roman style, mimicking images she’d seen of classical temples. A thatching of overgrown vines wound between the pillars, making natural curtains for the openings.

“Careful, Arthur,” James cautioned when the boy ducked beneath one of the matted vines into the folly itself. Seamus trotted after him.

“Father! You have to see this!”

“I doubt Lady Candace wants to climb in like a monkey, as you did.”

“It’s open on the other side,” Arthur called, his voice slightly muffled.