Page 86 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Candace choked, then covered it with a delicate cough.

“I don’t think so.” Vera leaned forward, her eyes wide. “I think your words are beautiful, original. I’ve certainly never heard anything of their kind before.”

“What of you, Candace?” James turned toward her, a polite smile on his lips. “Do you think my compliments sufficiently original to be published?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

She smoothed her face into serene thoughtfulness, though she longed to kick him about the shins instead. Alas, the distance was too great between them for her to manage it secretly, and certainly the other ladies would ask questions if she lobbed a fork at his head.

“There is nothing new under the sun,” the baroness said. “That shouldn’t prevent a person from creating art, if that is one’s calling.”

Vera nodded. “I feel that every new book of note finds criticism for being derivative in some manner.”

“There’s a thin line between inspiration and imitation, to be sure,” Candace said, once again trying to redirect the odd conversation. “There are many similar themes in books, but it’s the writer’s talent that makes even the most common plot new again.”

“So true.” James sipped from his wineglass and continued, “What kind of books do you prefer, Jacqueline?”

“I’m not that fond of reading, actually. Although, I’ve lately become interested in a set of veterinary reference books related to the care and feeding of woodland animals.”

“I prefer histories myself,” Vera said. “I’m currently reading a treatise on the fall of Rome that I happened upon in the library.”

James slid his dark eyes Candace’s direction and tilted his head with a charming smile. “And what of you, Candace? What kind of books do you enjoy?”

“Histories,” she said, perhaps too quickly. “Gardening books. Things of that nature.”

He nodded sagaciously. “I also enjoy books about flowers. There’s nothing more lovely than a rose in full bloom.”

Against her will, her eyebrows flew skyward. It was a line from The Rose and the Darkness, one of the most scandalous books of them all. She didn’t even dare keep that one on the mantel—it was stored in her shoe trunk.

How many books had Hortense sent? And how on earth had the man read them all so quickly?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jacqueline said. “It isn’t all that strange for a man to have an appreciation of botany. Stephen grew many herbs for his tinctures and tonics in one of our greenhouses.”

“Of course.” Candace nodded and ignored James, who was hiding a smirk behind his wineglass. “My interest in gardening is much more aesthetic, but it makes sense that a physician would want to grow his own ingredients.”

“Do you hear from your sons often?” Vera said.

“From my middle boy, yes. Eton is far closer than India, and the post much more reliable at that distance.”

Candace was grateful for the focus being taken from her for the moment. James had smoothed his expression, but there was still the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. She’d been completely off balance ever since she realized the joke James was playing. It was as if she were juggling two separate conversations—the one taking place on the surface that included Vera and the baroness, and the private one taking place between her and James.

She glanced at him again. He met her gaze with a sparkle of humor in his eyes. He was enjoying this far too much and she longed to punish him for it somehow, but she hadn’t the faintest clue how to do so. Candace had rarely seen this side of him—playful, teasing. If the joke hadn’t been at her expense, she would have been deeply intrigued by this facet of his personality.

Before dessert was served, Candace excused herself from the table for a few moments and cornered Hortense in the ladies’ reviving chamber, where the maid waited in case Vera or Candace had need of her.

“Which books did you send the Duke?” she hissed.

“You seemed to be having a terrible time choosing, so I just sent them all. All except the one you’re reading, that is.”

“All of them?” Her mouth gaped.

Hortense nodded. “They’re inexpensive and he seems like a responsible fellow. I didn’t see the harm.”

Candace stared at her. “Why would you do that? He’s going to think...”

“Nothing untoward. He’s your friend. What does it matter if he knows you enjoy ridiculous novels?”

“He’s been quoting them to me all evening.”