Page 91 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“Nonsense. It would have been ‘m’ for mastiff.”

“Ah, and yet, his name begins with an unrelated letter altogether.”

“His name has a grand connotation that somehow fits the beast.”

A few yards away, Seamus lumbered atop the berm once more and gave a great shake, showering Arthur with strings of drool flung from his flapping jowls. Arthur groaned, sounding half-disgusted, half-delighted, in the way only young boys could manage.

“It’s true,” Candace said. “Seamus is a noble name.”

“Indeed. It wouldn’t have been right to name him Fluffy or Mr. Twidderkins.”

“Mr. Twidderkins?” Candace stopped dead in the road from the shock of hearing such a ridiculous utterance from James's mouth.

James rolled his eyes, though she swore his cheeks went a little pink. “We can just forget that one altogether.”

“Not likely.”

“The point is, a large dog deserves a name worthy of him. Magnus or Rupert or Knight or Titan. Something of that ilk.”

“Mr. Twidderkins?”

James laughed.

A thicket of young trees partially shielded the garden folly from view of the house, which was why Candace hadn’t noticed the structure when she’d first arrived at Devon Manor. Thankfully, the overgrown road they walked hadn’t been too badly encroached by the saplings; still, Candace accepted James's help over a moldering log in their path.

The structure itself was round in shape, with a central staircase leading into a circular portico dotted with large columns. Nearly three stories tall, it stood proudly on a rise overlooking the small lake.

The building was far larger than Candace had anticipated. It was built of marble, in the Roman style, mimicking images she’d seen of classical temples. A thatching of overgrown vines wound between the pillars, making natural curtains for the openings.

“Careful, Arthur,” James cautioned when the boy ducked beneath one of the matted vines into the folly itself. Seamus trotted after him.

“Father! You have to see this!”

“I doubt Lady Candace wants to climb in like a monkey, as you did.”

“It’s open on the other side,” Arthur called, his voice slightly muffled.

James led Candace around the portico, pausing to assist her over several overgrown tangles of vine. She was relieved to see that Arthur was right—there was a second stairway and entrance at the back. This side of the folly didn’t receive as much sunlight. There was far less overgrowth—only a few spindly vines draped like limp ribbons across the entrance. James easily held them back as Candace entered.

She gasped in delight. She’d expected the interior of the garden folly to be cavernous, dark, and...empty. Instead, feeble rays of sunlight shone in from a small circular skylight that appeared to be ringed in mirrors—it dimly illuminated the space below, even though the sky was overcast. On a sunny day, she imagined it would be nearly as bright within as without.

A large carved basin rested beneath the skylight, presumably to catch whatever rainfall made it through the small opening above. Four points of the basin were marked with the directions of a compass, with verdigris copper lips that pointed at channels carved into the marble floor that led outside. If the basin overflowed, four tiny waterfalls would emerge and run in rivulets down the channels, which were small enough to step over.

But the most incredible part of the garden folly were the statues.

There were two of them—a Roman soldier and a woman in a gown with an armful of intricately carved flowers. They stood directly across from one another, staring into each other’s eyes for all eternity.

“They’re huge,” Candace said, her voice colored in breathless awe. “They must be twelve feet tall.”

“At least.” James nodded his agreement and crossed to examine the Roman soldier more closely.

Candace joined him. The soldier wore the classic elements of a Roman fighting uniform—helmet, chainmail, and segmented leather and metal armor that left his knees bare. His strong calves were wrapped in leather sandals. He held a spear that was stuck into the ground near his feet, his other hand gripping a sword still in the sheath at his side. His gaze was fierce and devoted as he stared across at the woman.

Candace slid her hand along the smooth marble that made up part of his draping cloak. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I feel as if at any moment he might come to life and take a step forward.”

“Whoever carved these was immensely talented.” James pointed. “Look at the detail of the chainmail.”

“Incredible.”