Page 49 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

F rom Gardening for the Estate-

Good topiary management requires near constant attention from a knowledgeable gardener.

While the shapes of the greenery may seem simple to a layman’s eye, they are difficult to achieve initially, and impossible to reclaim after a period of neglect.

Thus, a tidy, mature topiary is possibly the best indication of a well-managed estate garden.

It was the worst kind of ill to be—just sick enough not to be able to do anything, and just well enough to be irritated about all the things she could be doing.

Candace huffed a sigh and tossed her new paperback atop the blankets.

She threw back the covers and padded over to the full-length mirror.

At least her new dressing gown was pretty.

She so rarely spent any time in them—to a lady less obsessed with fashion, they might have seemed a waste.

Candace retied the bow at the very top, making sure that the loops were even, that they weren’t long enough to droop listlessly. There was almost nothing as bad as a droopy bow—it had quite the opposite effect that a bow should have.

Her dressing gown was a lovely robin’s-egg blue silk, with starkly pleated chiffon at the edges.

Normally, Candace thought it set off the cool paleness of her skin and contrasted with her lovely red hair.

Today, however, the redness of her hair clashed with the pink of her nose.

She scowled at her reflection and unbraided her hair to brush it once more.

She froze and cocked her head toward the door.

Were those footsteps in the hallway? Hortense had said she was going to get a fresh pot of tea, but it would be just like her to turn back halfway to try to catch Candace out of bed.

She flung herself back onto the mattress, yanking the bedcovers in place, just as a soft knock came at the door.

She sighed in relief—Hortense wouldn’t have knocked. It was probably Jacqueline, come back to prod at her neck and recommend lots of boring bed rest all over again.

“Come in,” she said, tucking her cheap novel under a pillow just as the doorknob began to turn.

She blinked, wide-eyed, as James entered. Her fingers came up to check the bow she’d just tied. It was still perfect, so she threaded her hands together over the coverlet.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” he said, scanning the room. “Is Hortense...”

“She went down to the kitchens. ”

“Ah.” He remained in the open doorway. “Perhaps I should return when she’s here.”

Candace smirked. “I assure you, we’re in no danger of gossip or a forced marriage in this house.”

He cleared his throat. “I hear you’re not feeling well.”

She held a hand to her forehead suddenly. “Our luncheon! I’m so sorry, James. I completely forgot.”

“It’s quite all right. It sounds like you’ve had enough to be getting on with. Completely understandable.”

“I feel terrible about it. Was Arthur disappointed?”

“Not at all. I assured him it was most likely yesterday’s weather that kept you away.”

“Please send my apologies and tell him I’ll come visit the first day I’m able.”

James smiled and retrieved the straight-backed chair from her desk. He moved it closer, angling it toward the bed before he sat. “I might have pestered Jacqueline and Vera into letting me see you. I’m glad that they didn’t underestimate the seriousness of your condition.”

“How would you know?” she teased. “You haven’t even asked how I’m feeling.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that my voice has returned to a normal octave. This morning, I might have passed for a dockworker.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps it’s best I arrived in the afternoon, then.”

“You would have been frightened all the way back to London.”

“I doubt that very much. Besides, I sent letters out today, inviting my friends to come and visit me. I wouldn’t be a very good host if they arrived and I wasn’t here.”

With effort, Candace kept her smile in place.

So he meant to go through with the plan he’d discussed with her yesterday.

And why wouldn’t he? Just because she’d become suddenly, irrevocably aware that her feelings for James extended well past the bounds of friendship didn’t mean that he felt that way.

At least he didn’t know how she truly felt.

Thank goodness for that, she thought.

“When do you expect the happy party to arrive?”

“In a fortnight, perhaps. Possibly sooner, if they’re keen to get out of the city.”

She had two weeks to prepare herself for the announcement, then. Two weeks left of things exactly the way they were. Despite the ache in her heart, she made herself hold her smile. She would enjoy the two weeks and face what came after with bravery.

Candace plowed forward with the polite conversation. “Who did you invite?”

“Lord Cavendish, the Baron Fitzgerald, Lord Howers, and the Marquess Beaufort.”

She tilted her head. “Forgive me, but I thought you were closer with the Duke of Devonshire than with Lord Howers.”

“Of course, but Devonshire’s married.”

“I hardly think his wife would deprive him of a bit of hunting if he had the mind.”

His forehead creased. “Yes, but the entire point is?—”

There was a loud, pointed clearing of the throat from the bedroom doorway. Hortense stood there holding a laden tray, her eyes moving back and forth between Candace, propped against her pillows, and James, leaning forward on his chair at her bedside.

James quirked a smile and stood. “Hello, Hortense.”

“Your Grace.” She nodded at him then turned to Candace. “I wasn’t aware you were well enough to be accepting gentlemen callers in your bedroom .”

“Really, Hortense—” Candace scoffed at the implication, heat coming to her cheeks.

“She’s quite right.” James stood, interrupting her—which was for the best, as she didn’t have an idea what to say. “I’ll leave you. I just meant to check that you were well.”

“Thank you, James. And I apologize for Hortense.”

“Not at all. She’s right. Quite inappropriate. Next time, we’ll meet in a curtained alcove in the library instead.”

He turned and exited, leaving Candace laughing and Hortense spluttering in his wake.