Page 104 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“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?”

Candace barely knew what she was saying. She was remembering that day at the garden folly, when she wondered what it would feel like to be held in James’s arms, what it would feel like to be precious to him. Now she knew, and it was better than she ever could have dreamed.

He grinned down at her, not releasing her. “I shouldn’t have kissed you before I even announced my intention to court you. I’m sorry.”