Page 46 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

James led Candace around the portico, pausing to assist her over several overgrown tangles of vine.

She was relieved to see that Arthur was right—there was a second stairway and entrance at the back.

This side of the folly didn’t receive as much sunlight.

There was far less overgrowth—only a few spindly vines draped like limp ribbons across the entrance.

James easily held them back as Candace entered.

She gasped in delight. She’d expected the interior of the garden folly to be cavernous, dark, and.

..empty. Instead, feeble rays of sunlight shone in from a small circular skylight that appeared to be ringed in mirrors—it dimly illuminated the space below, even though the sky was overcast. On a sunny day, she imagined it would be nearly as bright within as without.

A large carved basin rested beneath the skylight, presumably to catch whatever rainfall made it through the small opening above.

Four points of the basin were marked with the directions of a compass, with verdigris copper lips that pointed at channels carved into the marble floor that led outside.

If the basin overflowed, four tiny waterfalls would emerge and run in rivulets down the channels, which were small enough to step over.

But the most incredible part of the garden folly were the statues.

There were two of them—a Roman soldier and a woman in a gown with an armful of intricately carved flowers. They stood directly across from one another, staring into each other’s eyes for all eternity.

“They’re huge ,” Candace said, her voice colored in breathless awe. “They must be twelve feet tall.”

“At least.” James nodded his agreement and crossed to examine the Roman soldier more closely.

Candace joined him. The soldier wore the classic elements of a Roman fighting uniform—helmet, chainmail, and segmented leather and metal armor that left his knees bare.

His strong calves were wrapped in leather sandals.

He held a spear that was stuck into the ground near his feet, his other hand gripping a sword still in the sheath at his side.

His gaze was fierce and devoted as he stared across at the woman.

Candace slid her hand along the smooth marble that made up part of his draping cloak. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel as if at any moment he might come to life and take a step forward.”

“Whoever carved these was immensely talented.” James pointed. “Look at the detail of the chainmail.”

“Incredible.”

Arthur darted out the back archway, seemingly already tired of the interior. Seamus lumbered after him.

“Keep him away from the lake,” James called. “Seamus sinks like a rock. ”

“I will!”

Candace moved to study the statue of the woman. The man was a warrior, but the woman was all softness and grace. The sculptor had somehow managed to achieve a sheerness to the fabric in certain places—Candace felt she could see through the marble at the arm and leg and glimpse the limbs beneath.

The woman’s hair was held back by a jewelled headband. One leg was bare to the midthigh, her foot encased in a sandal with detailed chains around her ankle. One arm held a sheaf of roses; some of the blooms fell from her grip and dropped to the floor below.

“The flowers look so real, I almost expect them to have a scent,” Candace murmured.

The woman’s gaze was no less focused than that of the man across from her. But where he was strong, she was tender.

“It must have cost a fortune.” Candace frowned, glancing in the direction of Devon Manor. “I can’t fathom the original man of the house allowing such a frivolous expense. By all reports, he was a strict military man.”

“Ah, but you’re missing one small factor that changes everything.” James tore at a climbing vine that had snuck inside the rotunda.

“What is that?”

“Love.” He tossed the remnants of the vine away and brushed off a brass plaque inlaid into the stones.

Then he read, “For my dearest Margaret, whose presence made these lands more beautiful than this monument ever could. ‘Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods or steepy mountains yields.’ ”

“Poetry?” Candace kept her voice even to hide the fierce longing she felt at hearing James's deep voice recite the lines. It was like the dinner party all over again, but a thousand times worse, as the poetry was much more moving than some lines from a penny novel.

“Marlowe, I think.” James dusted his hands off.

“He must have loved his wife very much.” Even she could hear how wistful her voice sounded, and she cleared her throat and changed the subject swiftly to draw attention from it. “Vera likes poetry, I think.”

“What about you?” He studied her face as if she were far more interesting than the lovely marble carvings surrounding them.

“In the right setting and the right amount, perhaps.”

Right then, James was unbearably handsome, with one foot propped upon the marble moulding, his hat held down at his side, the wind ruffling his thick dark hair.

She wanted to add that this was precisely the right setting for poetry—whispering vines, gorgeous statues amidst the wilds of nature, a man reading from the memorial plaque of a long-lost love.

It was all dreadfully romantic, actually.

Too bad James held affection for Vera, not her.

Vera should be the one wandering hill and dale with a handsome explorer reading poetry to her. She should be the one listening to James's deep voice talking about love and the pleasures of nature. Vera should be the one being wooed despite herself, not Candace.

Candace especially shouldn’t be feeling these emotions toward one of her very closest friends...the friend who was interested in her other very closest friend. What a mess her mind was! What a mess her heart always made of everything!

She tore her eyes from his, hoping that he hadn’t read the last few moments of thought in her eyes, on her face. “It’s a wonder these things are so well preserved, considering how long they’ve been left to the elements.”

“They’re made of stone.” He slapped the knee of the warrior who held the spear. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

“I can’t believe Percy never mentioned them. I wonder if he even knows they’re here.”

“I’m not sure anyone does. Maybe some of the locals, though the folly is well within your brother’s property, so most of them wouldn’t have a reason to travel past it.”

She trailed over to the far open archway, more to have a reason to turn her back to him than to stare at the small lake.

“It’s stunning here. The perfect place for a garden party, if it were cleaned up a bit.”

“And who would you invite to this garden party?” He came to stand next to her, close enough that her shoulder brushed his upper arm.

“I don’t know yet. I guess it can’t be considered a garden party if there are only four people in attendance.”

“I’ve been thinking of writing a few of my friends to visit, getting a hunting party together.”

She turned and blinked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, with your blessing. I’d like to invite them out here because...well, because of Vera.”

Candace plastered her very best ballroom smile upon her face and nodded. She’d suspected this. No—she’d known it. Yet, to hear it from James's mouth was a deeper plunge of the knife than she’d prepared herself for.

He frowned down at her. “But if you’re not comfortable with it yet, I understand.”

She laughed, though it sounded hollow. “What would my comfort have to do with anything? Of course you must move forward as you see fit.”

“I understand if that would be difficult for you...”

Candace rocked back on her heels a little with the shock.

Dear heavens, did he know ? Did he suspect the traitorous feelings that had snuck in when she wasn’t looking and overcome her heart, much like the vines surrounding this garden folly?

How did he know, when Candace had barely admitted as much to herself?

“Why would it be difficult? Of course you must have your friends come and meet Vera. I daresay they’ll all approve of her.”

Even though her words and voice were even, her smile flawless, he still frowned down at her for several moments.

Candace swallowed the sudden desire to laugh.

She’d asked Vera what her dreams of a future held, and what had she said?

A tall, dark-haired man who lived in the country .

Dear heavens, Candace was a rare breed of idiot, not to have guarded her own heart better—James and Vera were a perfect match!

“Well, if you’re sure,” he finally said, hesitantly.

Candace smiled and nodded, bolstering herself to deliver the death-blow to her own foolish hopes.

Vera was kind, temperate, loyal . Candace would tell James that all his friends would agree and give their whole-hearted blessing.

Especially now that Vera’s beauty wasn’t hidden under the awful outfits that her pernicious mama had put her in. ..

Just as Candace opened her mouth to give her encouragement and blessing to such a match between her two closest friends, a vicious crack rent the air.

Candace couldn’t help it—she exhaled a little scream before clamping her mouth together to stop it. James didn’t seem to notice her outburst, or perhaps the thunder rolling across the landscape like a bass drum covered it.

“Arthur!” he called, even as he drew Candace back under the full protection of the rotunda. “Get in here!”

Moments later, a small cry erupted from outside.

“Stay here.” James moved toward the archway even as the heavens opened and a torrent of rain plunged from the sky.

She followed him out into the gale. “Certainly not.”

If Arthur was in distress, she wasn’t going to wait behind, not when she might be able to help. Outside, the landscape looked far different than it had only minutes ago, when they’d entered the folly.