Page 52 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

F rom Gardening for the Estate-

Many decorative objects can be added to increase the beauty or whimsy of a garden.

Some, such as sundials and armillary spheres, should be carefully placed according to direction and in full sun.

Others, such as grecian urns, lattice obelisks, and trellises, can be positioned according to the dictates of style alone.

The following day’s weather endeavored to prove why everyone should desire to live in the English countryside.

It was the perfect temperature—just a hint of coolness, softened by the glorious sunshine.

Birds twittered in the green branches of every tree; wildflowers dusted the edges of the road.

Conditions were ideal for a walk down to the village, and Candace took full advantage.

She wanted to check on the progress of the quilts she’d ordered from Mr. Harris. They’d received most of them, but three were still outstanding, and he’d promised them today. Hortense followed her down the street but broke off to check the post at the inn the moment they entered the town.

Candace suspected that more than efficiency was afoot—Hortense seemed to be avoiding Thomas, though Candace hadn’t the faintest idea why. She knew better than to ask, however—her maid scowled every time she brought the issue up.

The bell of the shop jangled merrily overhead.

“Good morning!” Mr. Harris called in the direction of the front door.

He’d added another shelf that prevented him from being able to see who was entering. When Candace stepped around the divider, she was surprised to find James at the counter, bent over an open display case of rings.

Her stomach dropped. She whirled toward the nearest shelf and picked up the first thing her eyes landed on—the blasted fruit clock. She blinked down at it, barely seeing its odd shape and clashing colors through the sudden moisture in her eyes.

Her heart thumped painfully within her chest. Candace thought she perhaps had more time—after all, James’s friends hadn’t visited to give their approval yet. But apparently his mind was already made up.

When she finally mustered the courage to turn back around, the rings had disappeared from the countertop, and James studied her closely, as if trying to ascertain whether she’d seen anything.

“James!” she cried, infusing surprise into her tone. “Fancy seeing you! What brings you to the village today? ”

“Nothing of note.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, the picture of nonchalance. If she hadn’t just seen what he was doing with her own two eyes, she never would have guessed it.

“What of you?” His eyes drifted to her hand, which still clutched the terrible clock. “Found something to purchase?”

“Indeed.” She smiled widely. “I also need to see if Mr. Harris has fabric for bunting.”

Mr. Harris nodded and disappeared into his maze of shelves. The long-awaited quilts were already draped at the far end of the counter.

“For the picnic?” James guessed.

“Mrs. Penn suggested that she and the other ladies might work on the decorations in the evenings, if I procured the supplies.”

Candace smiled to cover up the illness that roosted in her stomach and threatened to rise up the back of her throat. James frowned as if he knew her smile wasn’t completely genuine.

“Are you having second thoughts about the party?”

“Not at all.”

She set the gaudy clock upon the counter as if she’d always meant to purchase it and rifled through the bolts of fabric that Mr. Harris spread across the polished surface. Candace took a bit longer than necessary selecting the colors she wanted; she needed a moment to collect herself.

Finally, she pointed at the blue, white, and yellow. “These will do nicely. Thank you, Mr. Harris.” She smiled up at James as the shopkeeper rang up her purchases. “Did you find anything?”

“Not today, unfortunately.”

He sounded genuinely disappointed by it, and Candace felt another sharp jab in the direction of her heart.

Somehow, she had to overcome this inconvenient emotion.

James loved Vera . But no matter how many times she’d told herself that, no matter how many times she’d convinced herself that she’d be happy for them, she knew she was lying.

Candace was selfish—she wanted James for herself, even more than she wanted the happiness of her dearest friends.

And didn’t that just make her the worst kind of person?

She went through the motions of paying for her purchases in a daze, placing the quilts, the bunting, and the ghastly clock into her basket.

“Allow me.”

James gently tugged the now heavy basket from her fingers when she hefted it. She let it go with a wan smile of thanks.

“Where to next?” he asked once they regained the street.

“I was supposed to meet Hortense—” As she said the words, she glanced to the side just in time to see Hortense and Thomas walking the other direction, their heads bent together. It appeared they were having an intense, private discussion.

“It appears she’s been waylaid.” James sounded amused.

She frowned. “Then I’ll be heading back to the house. She’ll figure out where I went.”

“Let me walk you.”

There was no way to refuse, no reason that she could give that wouldn’t arouse his suspicions. Besides, she just had to get through the next couple of months. James was already shopping for rings, which meant he’d propose very soon. They’d be married not long after that, and then Candace could...

What? What would she do after they were married? Cry herself to sleep every night, doubtlessly. Find another of her brother’s country estates to escape to, probably.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked.

They’d already made their way to the main road. The village was cut out of sight by a curve in the road and a grouping of trees. She’d been ruminating in silence far longer than she realized.

Candace looked up at him. He was so handsome. His dark hair was just long enough to curl behind his ear and at his neck. One strong arm held her heavy basket effortlessly. He’d matched his stride to her shorter one—undoubtedly his long legs could walk much faster if he desired.

He was kind, caring, thoughtful.

He was her friend .

The word brought her up short. Suddenly, Candace rethought the entirety of their interaction today.

She shouldn’t have pretended not to see him shopping for Vera’s ring, not when she might have offered help.

Even if it was personally painful, Candace should help them along.

All it would take was a little bit of bravery, especially when the breaking of her own heart was a foregone conclusion.

She took a deep breath and mustered a smile .

“Vera has smallish fingers, you know.” With effort, Candace held her smile in place, even though it pinched. “Nearly as small around as mine.”

James's forehead wrinkled. “Pardon?”

“Her fingers,” she repeated, waving her own in the air. She wondered if her smile looked half as manic as it felt. “They’re small. Petite.”

“Why on earth are you going on about Vera’s fingers ?”

Candace stopped and dropped her smile. “Because I thought...the rings. I thought you’d like to know.”

James studied her for a moment, one hand clutching her basket, the other propped against his hip.

Then he reared back and a slow smile stole over his face. “Candace, are you under the impression that my romantic interests lie with Vera ?”

“Well, yes. That is, not that I would presume to say. It isn’t my place, and I apologize if I’ve overstepped, but it just seemed that?—”

James interrupted her stupid stammering by tipping his head back and laughing. If Candace hadn’t been slightly offended, she would have been immensely grateful, for she had no idea what she was going to say next.

“What?” she demanded. “What’s so funny?”

“It isn’t Vera I want as my wife, Candace.”

“It isn’t?” She froze, stunned.

Candace didn’t focus on the immense relief she felt. She focused on concern for her friend instead. Though Vera hadn’t seemed too attached, the loss of a duke as a prospective husband would set any lady back a foot or two. Especially Vera, who’d had so little interest over the years.

“How can so much intelligence live side by side with such foolishness, all in one woman?” He shook his head. “I love you, Candace. And I’ve been endeavoring to show you that ever since I arrived at Devon.”

“You have ? You do ?”

“Of course I do! You wanted flowers, I planted you a garden. You wanted horse rides and picnics, and you’ve had them.”

Candace blinked, staggered by this revelation. It was as if he’d reordered her entire existence with a few sentences. Hope warred with distrust within her for a moment, but James was not the kind to play such a cruel joke. He must be telling the truth.

At the same moment the realization landed, a fragile hope fluttered within her—a little bird shaking off the snow and taking wing.

“You love me?” She repeated the words with a cautious lilt to her voice.

He laughed again, shook his head. “Candace, you’re the only one within a hundred miles who doesn’t already know.”

She blinked back another round of shock. This conversation reminded her of the one time she’d ventured too deep into the ocean as a child—she couldn’t catch her breath as wave after wave slapped her in the face; Percy had to rescue her before she drowned.

Of course, this was far more pleasant than that had been.

Candace smiled suddenly, dazzled by the warmth she felt.

“But do they know that I love you back?” she challenged .

He laughed, dropped the basket, and swung her into his arms. She had the momentary thought that she fit well there, that she fit perfectly , but then his warm lips were on hers, and all rational thought flew away.

Had she thought her hope was a single bird? If so, where had the thousands of wings beating within her heart come from?

He pulled back suddenly. “I’m doing this all backwards.”

“Are you?”