Page 68 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“And I’ve decided that if this is all there is for me, that’s enough. How can I possibly complain? I’ve long enjoyed pleasures denied to so many—the security of a noble birth, the protection and care of my parents, close friendship with Candace. Even now, I’ve been afforded travel to Devon, a place I never thought to visit previously.”

“Very few think of visiting Devon,” he quipped.

“I don’t know why; it’s quite beautiful. Rocks and crags and rugged coastline, wide pastures and forests.”

“If you wrote such a description for The Times, the countryside would be inundated with visitors.”

“Perhaps.”

“What about after? What comes next for you, Vera?”

“After?”

“After Candace decides what she’ll do next,” he said, carefully.

“I haven’t let myself think that far ahead, I suppose. I expect I’ll return to London.” Her tone was light, but she nibbled her lip and glanced out the window.

James’s eyes narrowed on the motion. “I’m sure that you will always have a home with Candace if you desire it. She would never ask you to leave her.”

“Such decisions may not always be up to Candace, though. If...when she marries, that decision will be left to her husband.”

He nodded and considered his words carefully before he spoke. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t believe that Candace should ever ask you to leave. You are a true friend to her. Her future husband would be a fool not to welcome you into his household, should you wish a place there.”

For a moment, her green eyes became crystalline clear with moisture. A blink, and the tears and the moment were gone.

“That’s very kind of you. That’s very charitable.” Her mouth twisted around the word as if it were a difficult one for her to pronounce.

James leaned forward, his eyebrows lowered. “It isn’t charity, I assure⁠—”

Candace appeared in the doorway and James halted. He didn’t know why he thought as much, but he suspected that Vera didn’t want her friend overhearing their conversation on the subject.

Perhaps he would have been better off finishing his thought, since Candace’s eyes narrowed slightly when he bit off his sentence. She examined him, then slid her gaze over to Vera, who was brushing her skirts with a trembling hand, an altogether unconvincing study of nonchalance.

“Have I interrupted?” Candace half turned toward the door as if to leave.

“Not in the slightest.” Vera shot to her feet and gave a tremulous smile. “I’ll just go and see what’s keeping Mrs. Davis with breakfast.”

Vera’s excuse might have been read as genuine, had the footmen not appeared in the archway that moment with their trays. Vera didn’t so much as nod at them as she sailed past them into the hallway.

Candace watched her go. Her frown deepened and she turned toward James with an air of inquisition—her back straight, her lips pursed. As if he were the reason for Vera’s discomfort and must be held to account.

James waited until the footmen arranged the dishes and departed before offering, “Vera doesn’t believe she’s deserving of good things.”

Candace jerked a stiff nod, as if he’d confirmed something she was thinking. “So I’ve noticed.”

He looked toward the hallway, half expecting Vera to reappear. “I don’t understand why she’s convinced her life is over at four and twenty.”

“It isn’t her fault,” she remarked over the edge of her delicate teacup. “Her mother has cloistered her away.”

“Selfish of her. Vera would make an excellent match for the right man.”

Candace gave a little cough and a flush bloomed across her cheeks. “A gentleman could do no better than Vera, to be sure.”

James studied Candace while she studied her teacup. Her lovely mouth was twisted in a little moue of displeasure that might have been indiscernible to him if he’d not had the benefit of several years’ study. Her shoulders were slightly stiff in that way they were when she’d braced herself against a particular topic.

His eyes narrowed. It couldn’t be...was she jealous?

The thought cheered him; he contained the smile that threatened to spread across his face like spilled honey.