Page 76 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

It wasn’t her place to lecture Hortense on propriety—her maid was one of the strictest persons she’d ever known, in that area. Neither was it her place to encourage some sort of formal union. Candace had personal experience as to how disastrous such measures could be.

Besides, knowing Hortense, being caught by her employer and a small boy would be sufficiently mortifying to produce a change in behavior—if in fact a change of behavior was needed. Candace couldn’t possibly know, just happening upon them, whether the kiss had been a passing fancy of immature curiosity (as it had been in her own case), or if she’d witnessed the sealing of some solemn vow. Only time—and Hortense—could tell.

Candace entered the hall at the same time as James did. He apparently had been hiding in the room opposite the library. His hair was slightly rumpled, to a charming effect. She must have had a strange expression on her face, for he tilted his head in question at her, his brow lowering. She shook her head, eyes wide, a flush to her cheeks.

His attention shifted to just behind her and his face smoothed, a twinkle of understanding glimmering in his eyes but for a moment.

“Arthur and I found Thomas in the library,” Candace said lightly, keeping her attention centered on James as Hortense and Thomas skulked out of the room behind her.

“I see.” Though his words were even, it appeared he was holding back laughter.

Candace glanced at the couple. Thomas and Hortense hadn’t used the moments alone to collect themselves. If anything, they somehow appeared more guilty. Hortense’s flush had ripened to the color of a fresh cherry, and Thomas kept yanking at his collar in an agitated manner until Hortense finally slapped his hand away.

It was amazing she was able to do so without meeting his eyes. Both of them trailed off down the hallway, avoiding the gaze of the other players, who were slowly extricating themselves from their hiding spots. Luckily, only Candace and James seemed to notice their discomfort.

She stepped closer to him so as not to be overheard. “If Arthur asks, Hortense was helping Thomas adjust his collar.”

James's laugh boomed forth, startling Candace and one of the maids, who gave a little scream and clutched the bannister to keep from falling down the stairs.

Candace shushed him, glancing over her shoulder. “It isn’t funny.”

“You and I can disagree on that point, but I assure you, I’ll do my utmost to uphold the story of the ill-fitting collar.” He grinned. “To admit otherwise would encourage questions I’m not yet prepared to answer.”

“Yes, well.” Candace smoothed her skirts. “I can’t imagine what they were thinking.”

“I can,” James deadpanned.

Candace swatted at his shoulder.

Vera appeared at James's other elbow, patting at her hair. “It took me an age to climb out of that armoire. What did I miss?”

“Nothing of note,” Candace said, a bit too quickly.

James grinned. “Only that there are some excellent hiding spots to be had in the library.”

“Not that excellent. We found them.”

“Them?” Vera asked.

“Thomas and his ill-fitting collar,” James said in mock solemnity.

Vera wrinkled her nose adorably. “Pardon?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Candace tugged at Vera’s sleeve to prevent further questions. “Quick, let’s go downstairs—the next round is starting.”

CHAPTER 23- CANDACE

From Gardens from Age to Age, A Compendium⁠—

Patience is cultivated within the garden bed, as surely as any flower. For it is with deferred hope that one waits to see if efforts will be rewarded. Quiet perseverance is planted alongside each and every seed.

James and Arthur stayed for dinner, which was served in the back parlor. With its stone floor and current lack of curtains, the room could have been cold and dreary, but it was painted the palest shade of yellow. A stunning bank of windows allowed excellent afternoon light, a colorful braided rug livened the space, and a cheerfully crackling fire added a cozy, inviting warmth.

The four of them sat at a round wooden table that had long ago been painted ivory. Mrs. Penn and a trio of maids brought a steaming teapot, a tureen of creamy soup, a platter of bacon sandwiches with ripe tomatoes from the hothouse, and a light salad of pickled cucumbers and shaved onion, as well as an array of sliced cold meat and cheeses.

Candace found she enjoyed the simple way of dining in the country. Though nothing could compare with a lavish London dining room—the sparkle of crystal reflected from the chandeliers, the glimmer of silver candelabras and china—there was something homey and comforting about a plain table and communal dishes.

“Can we come back and play hide and go seek tomorrow, Father?”