Page 90 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Candace couldn’t help the inappropriate laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Forgive us, Candace,” James said. “Apparently, living alone has made us unfit for a lady’s company.”

“Not at all. You forget I grew up with Percy; it would take valiant effort to shock me. Still, let’s get Seamus out into nature, in case nature calls once more.”

“Oh, there couldn’t possibly be anything left,” Arthur assured her solemnly. “You didn’t see the size of the mess in the entryway.”

“Arthur!”

Candace stepped into the hallway, leaving the father and son to a furiously whispered conversation. She smiled as she accepted Benson’s help into the coat Hortense had hung in the entry before departing to the village. Her maid had promised to check for post, but Candace had also asked her to check on the progress of the quilts with Thomas’s father, in case Hortense needed an excuse to see the young man.

When James and Arthur finally joined her, Arthur’s head hung a bit. Candace fastened the jet-black buttons of her deep-green jacket and tugged on her matching emerald-colored gloves.

“Lady Candace, I’m very sorry for the inappropriate comments I made,” the boy said before glancing at his father.

James nodded, and Arthur ducked his head once more.

“Apology accepted, though I don’t believe it was necessary. You and I are close friends, Arthur, which opens up a wide variety of topics that might otherwise be inappropriate.”

Arthur studied her and chewed his lip while considering her words. “We are?” he finally asked.

“Of course.” She reached down and squeezed his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have specifically asked for you to join me today if that weren’t the case.”

The boy’s countenance brightened. “What about Seamus? Is he your close friend, too?”

“Indeed.” She nodded briskly. “I’m very glad he’s recovered from his momentary illness to escort us today. We’ll need his keen nose and bravery in case there’s something inside the garden folly.”

“I don’t know how much help he’ll be.” Arthur wrinkled his nose. “He’s even afraid of cats.”

When they ventured out the back door, a mist still clung to the earth, tucked into the dips of the fields. The sun was no more than a smudge of brightness behind the grey of clouds. Hortense had been right to set out one of her sturdier walking ensembles—Candace was grateful for the warm wool of her dress and overcoat and the fine make of her flat-soled boots.

But she wasn’t one to sacrifice aesthetic for practicality, and today was no different—the coat was daringly edged in a thin strip of matching leather at the hem and along the seams. Her hat was a miniature version of a man’s top hat, fastened by a fearsome pin stuck through a brass grommet on either side.

Seamus and Arthur led the way, plowing through the long grass with all the enthusiasm of intrepid explorers. James and Candace stuck to the ruts of a long, overgrown road. A couple of birds winged overhead, cutting through the dreary sky toward the copse of trees at the edge of the property.

“I hope that Seamus’s presence didn’t keep Vera from joining us this morning.”

“Not at all—she walked to visit the baroness and her hedgehog, Sheldon.”

“The hedgehog’s name is Sheldon?” He arched an eyebrow.

“You seem surprised.”

“It’s just...Sheldon.” He repeated the name with deep disapproval. “Seems like a missed opportunity, is all.”

“How so?”

“Animals’ names should hint at what they are. Think of all the wasted chances for alliteration. Henry the Hedgehog. Or Hattie.”

“I believe Sheldon is a boy,” she teased. “He might balk at the name ‘Hattie’ on principle.”

“Very well. But there’s still Heathcliff, Hector, or Howard.” He ticked them off on gloved fingers.

“Don’t forget Hugh and Harry.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Indeed.”

“Your reasoning is very sound, but how do you expect others to follow the rules you set forth when you disregard them so boldly?” She nodded toward the boy and the dog. “By your guidelines, Seamus should be named something that begins with ‘d’ for dog.”