Page 63 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

She pronounced the words as if they should be capitalized—A Project.

“I cannot wait to hear all about it.” He followed her into the front foyer and closed the door behind them.

Candace yanked at the ties on the back of her apron and shucked the plain cotton over her head; he averted his eyes, staring at a small painting of a brown hunting dog. Though she was only removing an apron, he fought the urge to yank at his collar all the same.

“Let’s find Vera and call for tea. Then I can tell you both at the same time.”

A smile lifted his lips. After Shelbourne had left to Paris, once enough time had passed for Candace to feel the blunt edge of his disregard, she’d seemed to go through her days under a haze. If James hadn’t known better, he might have thought she took a small dose of laudanum every sunrise—her smiles were wan unless she knew someone was watching, her laughter rang with a false note, and she lacked her usual sense of forward-driving purpose.

That purpose seemed to be back now, and he was eager to find out what had rekindled her inner light.

They found Vera in the main hall, curled up on a leather sofa, her feet tucked beneath her. James hesitated at the entry, allowing Candace to hurry in before him—Vera would want a moment to rearrange herself before a gentleman entered the room.

Indeed, when Candace casually announced him, Vera blinked, wide-eyed, and sat up immediately. He took that as his cue to enter.

“Good afternoon, Miss Ashbury.” He sketched a bow.

“Hello, James.” She smiled up at him. “After all the times you’ve encouraged me to use your given name, and yet you insist upon greeting me with my proper name. Why is that?”

“A lady should always be allowed room to change her mind.”

Vera shook her head, smiling. “I’ll not change my mind on my opinion of you—you may mark my word.”

“Then I’m keen to hear your opinion of me, as it is so firmly set.” James grinned.

A splotch of pink dotted Vera’s cheeks. “Only a man of your social standing would feel so free to demand it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Candace watched this interlude with all the keenness of someone viewing a high-stakes sporting match; her head turned back and forth to watch the repartee.

Now, she frowned. “Yes, yes. You’re both exceedingly polite and like each other very much. May we move on?”

James laughed. “Of course.” He turned back to Vera. “She has something important to tell us.”

“So important that she hasn’t yet bidden you to sit. But as I live here too, I’ll invite you to do so.”

“Thank you.” He added in a teasing tone, “It was a long walk from the front drive.”

James took one of the chairs perpendicular to the sofa, in hopes that Candace might take the one next to it. Instead, she chose to walk back and forth in front of the table.

When he glanced over at Vera, her eyes were sparkling with good-natured mirth. He couldn’t tell if it was his longing or Candace’s animation that amused her. Though he hoped it was the latter, Vera wasn’t the kind to make sport of anyone, and he didn’t begrudge her humor wherever she found it.

After Candace rang for tea, she addressed her audience. “I was out in the shed, looking to replace the bulbs and the pot that Seamus knocked over⁠—”

“Very sorry about that, by the way.” James couldn’t help but interrupt, taking care to keep his face straight. “Arthur felt awful about the pottery.”

“How is Arthur?” Vera added swiftly, instantly picking up James’s amusement and making it her own.

“Very good, thank you.”

“And Seamus?”

“Seamus is well, too.”

“I’m so happy to hear it.” Vera’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I apologize for my reaction when I saw him.”

“Not at all.”