Page 51 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

“It’s all arranged.” Candace bustled in, tugging at her gloves and giving Seamus a welcoming pat on the head.

“What is?” James glanced up from his ledger.

Since Candace started coming over every afternoon to help Arthur with the intricate puzzle, James had found reasons to bring his work into the front parlor instead of closing himself in his study.

Candace looked particularly fetching today, in a lavender walking dress topped with one of her ridiculous, fashionable hats.

Her ruffled sleeves ended just below the elbow, in deference to the weather, which had been growing steadily warmer the past week.

It was as if the rainstorm they’d been caught in had been the last, desperate heave of winter.

With the delicate purple hue of her gown and the riot of ribbons and feathers atop her head, Candace resembled one of the many flowers bursting into bloom in Devon Manor’s gardens.

“The picnic. For the villagers. I’ve set a date and invited everyone. It’s to take place in two weeks’ time, on Sunday afternoon. The local vicar is even going to announce it at the end of services.”

“Do you know how many people to expect?”

“Everyone, I should imagine.” She took her customary place at the puzzle table. “I guess at least a hundred or so.”

“I would double that number if I were you.” James smiled. “Free food and a chance to ramble past a fine house? Word will undoubtedly spread to nearby villages.”

Candace chewed her lip. “Do you think so? I’ll have Mrs. Penn adjust the numbers. Perhaps we might borrow a couple of your footmen to help keep people from the house and stables on the day of?”

“Of course. I’ll bring the lot of them. I expect they’ll all want to have a gander at the statues, too.”

“Thank you, James.” She glanced around the parlor. “Where’s Arthur?”

“He somehow managed to fall headfirst into a mud puddle directly after lunch. He’ll be down shortly after his bath.”

She snickered at his droll tone. “It’s the nature of boys to be perpetually dirty, you know.”

“It’s a wonder you’re trying to educate me on such matters, when I was once a boy myself.”

“And what kind of boy were you?” She grinned as if she were delighted to imagine it.

He lied through his teeth. “I was kind. Respectful. Obedient to a fault.”

“It’s as if you forget that Percy was several years behind you in Eton. He’s told me some stories.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Such as?”

“Wasn’t there something about a dead fish in the headmaster’s office?”

James's eyes went wide. “He told you that ?”

“After a few snifters of brandy, my brother becomes quite chatty indeed.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.”

James forced his eyes resolutely to his ledger to try to end the topic. He was going to kill Percy the next time they met. Some stories should remain firmly with the masculine set.

“I wouldn’t, except there are so many of them.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Like the lizard in the chamber pot escapade, or the time you nearly set fire to the stable with some fireworks, or...”

“Who set fire to a stable?” Arthur asked.

His dark hair was still wet from his bath. He shoved a finger in his ear and rooted around as if there might be treasure contained within.

“Remove your finger from your person,” James said firmly.

If he had a pound for every time he’d said such, he could have bought all of Scotland.

“Sorry, Father.” Arthur wiped the offending digit on his now formerly clean trousers.

James sighed; Candace covered her smile .

“Who set fire to a stable?” Arthur repeated doggedly, taking his seat at the puzzle table.

“This happened many years ago in London,” Candace replied smoothly.

“A foolish boy was playing with matches. Which is why you must never do so. The animals are always the ones who suffer—they become frightened and cannot find the exits. If you ever think of acting so irresponsibly, just imagine poor Seamus caught in a blaze. It’s imperative that you never play with fire. ”

The boy’s eyes went wide; he looked at his beloved dog and nodded solemnly. “I won’t. I promise.”

James hid his smile. He’d stressed the importance of never idly striking matches to Arthur, but he’d never been clever enough to tie the idea to his son’s beloved mastiff. He had to commend Candace for her smooth deflection and her impressive lesson, both.

She turned to him. “Any word from your hunting party?”

“I expect the gentlemen any day. Though on their timetable, that could mean they arrive well in time for your garden party, or well after it.”

Candace nodded thoughtfully and returned her attention to the puzzle.

He couldn’t help but notice that every time his future houseguests came up, she seemed to grow a bit morose.

He supposed it was only natural that might be the case—she’d come to Devon to escape society, and now he was bringing a slice of it to her doorstep.

Still, the men he’d invited were all single men of good fortune, who were ostensibly in the market for wives.

None of them enjoyed gossip, and James felt that the benefit of possibly finding a husband for Vera far outweighed the slight possibility that one of them would say something to offend Candace.

His butler entered the room and placed a silver tray with a letter on top upon James's desk before retreating. James slid an engraved letter opener beneath the wax seal and glanced over at the puzzle table, making sure that Candace and Arthur were fully engrossed.

Your Grace,

Please accept my apologies, but a design such as this will take time to complete.

I will send it along as soon as I am able.

You may expect the delivery by special courier.

I am well confident that the project will be completed within two months at the latest, though it may very well be much sooner.

Thank you entrusting this item to our care; we will handle it with the utmost discretion.

Sincerely,

Howard P. Rotherton, Jeweler

James gave an irritated huff through his nose despite himself. Candace glanced up in question but quickly redirected her attention back to the tedious problem of sails versus sky.

Perhaps he wouldn’t wait for Rotherton to craft the idea he’d worked so hard on. Or perhaps the ring would just have to wait until after the nuptials.

James frowned at the thought. If he were being honest, he wanted to do things the right way. He and Candace had both been betrothed before. He wanted this engagement to erase her memory of the one with Shelbourne completely.

That man had seemingly picked the first ring he’d come across. The gaudy ruby had looked nothing like Candace; it clashed with her in every way. James wanted to get on one knee and give her a ring that looked like it had been made for her, because it had been.

He glanced up once more to see Candace smiling softly down at Arthur. She touched his shoulder and pointed to a piece on the far side of the table. Arthur went up his knees on his chair to reach it.

Adding to his frustration over the ring was the fact that Devonshire had yet to respond to his letter. Though James knew that the post between Devon and London was a fickle system, he was more than impatient to hear his answer.

James had already thought of how he’d arrive on Candace’s doorstep, bouquet in hand, to ask her the all-important question. He’d already picked out which suit he’d wear and he hadn’t even officially started courting her yet.

Two months? He didn’t want to wait two months. He looked over at the lovely redhead bent close to his son. He didn’t want to wait two hours , let alone two months. Still, perhaps there was a solution closer by.