Page 99 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“As I’ve said, it’s a shame it’s been hidden away all these years.”

“Indeed. These sculptures are better than some in the British Museum.” He tilted his head in interest. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ve already said the lake would be excellent for a garden party. I plan to throw one, invite the villagers and make a day of it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of sandwiches for Mrs. Davis to make.”

She laughed. “I’m sure there’s a way to do it. It would be my thank you for all the work they’ve put into Devon Manor over the past year. Both the house and the grounds wouldn’t have recovered if not for the industrious nature of the local populace.”

“Indeed.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not trying to dissuade you from this idea in the least, but I feel I must remind you that the populace wouldn’t have been half as industrious if they weren’t being paid to do so.”

“Oh, I know that.” She swatted at his elbow. “Still, it would be fun, wouldn’t it? To have a picnic with decorations and streamers, something to celebrate the true arrival of spring?”

“That it would. I’ve no doubt that the villagers would enjoy it immensely. I assume you realize they’ll have to come to the house to access the road?”

She nodded. “I’ve already thought of it. I was going to have Mr. Scott hitch a wagon and give people rides to and from the picnic site. Those who want to walk from the house will be able to, but those who would rather ride can do so. What do you think?”

“I think you’ll be very popular in the village, indeed.”

“That’s not why I’m doing it. The garden folly should be shared, but we can’t have people traipsing through Percy’s fields whenever they feel like it. This way, everyone will get the chance to have a look. We could make it an annual thing.”

“It’s a wonderful idea. Please let me know how I can help.”

“I may need your kitchen’s help making sandwiches.”

He chuckled. “If all of the village will be traipsing through your gardens, it’s no wonder you’re digging in the dirt. What assistance can I offer today?”

Candace frowned up at him. “You want to help?”

“Of course. I came to see you. If gardening is the activity of the morning, I see no reason not to join in.”

“Very well.” She started to rise, then accepted his hand for help. She removed her gloves and propped her hands on her hips, surveying the garden.

“It’s looking beautiful,” he said, his eyes still on her.

She hummed in agreement, seemingly distracted by the tulips nodding under the weight of their new blooms in the corner.

The walled garden had undergone a vivid transformation under Candace’s care these last few weeks. She’d cleared away the dead remnants of the previous plantings, brought the remaining vestiges to heel with her clippers, and planted a bevy of new things.

Under her instruction, the gardeners had repaired the wall, built garden benches, installed trellises for the newly planted fruit trees so they might be trained as they grew, laid fresh gravel upon the walkways, and gotten the dry fountain running once more.

The effect was striking. Instead of a dead, overgrown square, it was a lovely, orderly garden, ready to burst forth in bloom.

“I still think something’s missing in the far corner, but all of the books you bought state that gardening takes time and patience.”

He smiled down at her. “A wonderful occupation for you, then.”

She scoffed and swatted his elbow with her gloves. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Nothing. Only that patience is grown much like a garden—slowly.”

“What would you know of patience?”

“Too much, some might say.” Candace peered up at him curiously, and he redirected her attention before she could ask his meaning. “If you can’t come up with a different task, I’ll assist you with yours.”

“Weeding?” She lifted her eyebrows.

“Don’t look so surprised. I don’t consider myself above such a thing.”