Page 88 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Instead, she’d been focused on the undercurrents of a private joke, even tried to turn the joke around on James. Some may even have misconstrued it as flirting.

“Vera, what of you?” Candace asked, chagrined by how easily distracted she was. “Have you ever written any poetry?”

“Me? No.” Her eyes were wide—she sounded as horrified as she looked.

“Come now,” Candace said, cajoling. “I see you often at the writing desk. I thought perhaps you were penning something you’d someday want to share—poetry, or a novel, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” There was a stiffness to Vera’s voice that matched the sudden tension in her spine. “I write letters home sometimes, is all.”

“Ah.”

Candace smiled to smooth the little rough patch of awkwardness her question had created, and quickly rifled through her file of available conversational topics to change the subject. But perhaps the baroness wasn’t the only one who’d had a bit too much wine, for she could think of nothing.

“Jacqueline,” James said smoothly, “you mentioned your books on veterinary science, and I know you’re rehabilitating a hedgehog. Do you ever release the animals you help back into the wild?”

“If they’re able to return, of course. That’s the best thing for them.”

“For your drawing room, too, no doubt.” He smiled.

“The hedgehog won’t be returning to the wild. He’s far too comfortable as a pet.”

“He’s a darling little thing,” Vera said. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me, but I’m selfishly glad you cannot get rid of him.”

Jacqueline smiled. “I am, too. He’s very polite. Elda says he’s the least trouble of all of them.”

“What’s the most recent animal you’ve assisted?”

“A wild dog. The poor dear had to be put down, unfortunately.”

“That’s terrible,” Vera whispered. “What was wrong with him?”

“Got caught in a trap. His leg possibly could have been saved, if he’d let us close enough to tend it.”

“That must have been very difficult for you,” Candace said.

“More difficult for him, I’d imagine. Though his suffering was brought to finality at the end of my rifle, so I take some solace in that, at least.”

“You...you dispatched him yourself?”

The baroness tilted her head and frowned at Candace. “It would hardly be fair to ask someone else to do it. It’s my project, after all. What—am I to do all the agreeable parts and pass the difficulties on to someone else?”

“No, you’re right. I just don’t know if I’d have the heart for any of it.”

Her expression softened. “Hearts are resilient things, Candace. It’s the hard things in life that teach us that lesson, far more than the easy things.”

“I find it admirable that you go through so much trouble for animals.”

She barked a laugh. “Animals are far easier than people. When animals take a swipe at you, there’s always a simple reason—they’re afraid, hurting, or hungry. People will take a swipe at you for no discernable reason at all.”

“Indeed,” James said. “Perhaps you’re the wisest of us all, to take up with animals and leave society to its own devices.”

“Animals are simple. I like the straightforwardness of them. And as you well know, James, animals are far less difficult than raising sons.”

“I’ll raise a glass to that statement. And I’ll drain it for the truth of it.”

Candace said, “I hope Arthur wasn’t too disappointed not to be included this evening.”

“He knows there are many things strictly for adults. Besides, I promised him a hunting trip tomorrow to ease the sting. Our cook is baking all his favorite treats to include in the basket. He’s thrilled.”