Page 109 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

When James returned to his house, he examined it with new eyes. As he handed his coat and gloves over to his butler in the entryway, he wondered whether Candace would insist on redecorating once they’d wed. He’d heard that some ladies didn’t feel at home in a man’s house until they scrubbed away all the old and replaced it with new.

James didn’t care; he was just curious as to what idiosyncrasies he’d discover once he and Candace wed and lived together.

Arthur was at the puzzle table, turning a piece around in his hands.

“Having any luck?” James asked, taking the chair next to him.

“I’ve got two in the past hour.” Arthur sounded thrilled with the progress.

At the boy’s feet, Seamus gave a grunt acknowledging James's presence, readjusted himself into a comfortable loaf, and sighed contentedly.

James studied the neatly organized piles of pieces Arthur and Candace had made and smiled. “Arthur, I have something important to ask you.”

The boy looked up, a solemn expression on his face, and waited. Now that the moment had come, James felt nearly as many nerves as when he’d told Candace he loved her. More, actually, as he’d been laughing when he finally confessed his feelings.

He cleared his throat and dove in. “What would you think about me and Lady Candace getting married someday?”

Arthur pursed his lips in thought. “She would live with us?”

“Yes. Would you like that?”

“I think so. She bought me this puzzle and it would go a lot faster if she were here.”

James smiled and waited. Arthur twisted his mouth to the side in that way of his; there were questions coming.

“If she becomes your wife, would that make her my mother?”

“Yes. But that wouldn’t make Jane—your mother—any less so.”

Arthur spun the puzzle piece around in his hand, thinking.

“I think I’d like that,” he finally said. Then he winced. “Would she like that?”

“Of course.” James slid his hand over his son’s head. “Candace loves you and likes you.”

“Does this mean I’m going to have a brother?” Arthur asked, eyes wide.

He laughed. “I don’t know. Do you want one?”

He nodded. “But no sisters. I’ve heard they’re awful.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

He shrugged. “Everyone knows it, Father.”

James watched Arthur try to fit the piece onto the puzzle, turning it this way and that.

“You know your mother never wanted to leave you, right?” he said. “You know if she had the choice, she’d still be here, taking care of you, probably doing this puzzle with you?”

“I know, Father.” He slotted the puzzle piece into place and smiled. “But then you wouldn’t marry Lady Candace.”

James thought a lot about that conversation over the next few days. It was a strange mixture of happiness and guilt that wrestled within him. He finally settled the emotions by taking a long walk and thinking them through as clearly as possible.

Arthur was right—if Jane had lived, he wouldn’t be courting Candace. But that was no reason to feel guilty, he reasoned. He and Jane had been happy in their marriage—it was comfortable; they were dear friends. He had loved her, even though it wasn’t the same heady, romantic kind of love he felt for Candace.

And perhaps that was the real source of his guilt—that he felt more deeply for Candace now than he had for Jane then. Even that, he thought, should be forgiven. It was a different relationship. Of course it would be different altogether. If Jane had lived, he never would have looked at Candace in the same light. She would have remained a family friend, nothing more. James had always been loyal to Jane, and he would have continued.

Until death do us part, he thought.