Page 107 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

He brushed a final kiss to her cheek, deposited the basket at her side, and left down the drive with long strides. Candace watched him go unabashedly. For one, she was dreadfully glad of the opportunity to stare at him. She had every right to admire him, now that they were courting. Secondly, she needed a moment to breathe, to calm the racing of her heart, to hopefully chase the pink flush she still felt warming her cheeks.

Though she and James wouldn’t officially announce their attachment to society until he heard back from Devonshire, Candace felt that Vera deserved to know immediately. And the only thing that might be able to blot out the bright sun of her happiness was the shadow of her friend’s disappointment.

Unfortunately, when Candace inquired about Vera’s location in the house, she was informed that the lady wasn’t home at all. Vera had taken the carriage down the lane to the baroness’s house and wasn’t expected back until the afternoon.

Candace spent the rest of her morning in restless agitation, first flopping headfirst onto her made bed, then attempting to sit at her desk with at least some decorum. She jotted several notes off to people—one to Percy, inquiring about his return, even though it wouldn’t reach him until after he’d returned to London, so she crumpled the thing into a ball and tossed it onto the fire. The next she wrote to Madame Aubert, asking for a specific design to be made in all haste and sent to her.

For some reason, Candace firmly believed that this courtship would be much shorter than her first, and she endeavored to make herself as ready as possible for the betrothed state. As far as one could by ordering clothes, at least.

Candace gave the letter to Benson and took her luncheon in the back parlor. She ate without hardly tasting the food, though it was as good as always. Instead, she stared a bit listlessly out the back window. What use was wonderful news when there was no one nearby to share it with?

The garden beyond the window was green and manicured, a far cry from what it had looked like only weeks before. In a moment of wistful clarity, Candace reflected that it was perhaps the same with her heart.

When she’d arrived, it had been a wild tangle of dried things—dead dreams, the thorny carcass of her social standing, a thicket she’d grown to protect her weary heart. Now, all of that had been removed, and fresh new sprouts of hope had taken root. They poked through the soil, hinting at what was to come...

“My lady,” Hortense said from the doorway, jarring Candace from her reflections. “I apologize for being so late.”

Her chest heaved as if she’d run all the way from the village. Her normally tidy bun listed sideways; a dot of mud marred the pristine white of her apron.

Candace pressed her lips together to hide a smile, her eyes wide and guileless. “Quite all right, Hortense. I assume it was the great quantities of post that kept you?”

“Er...the post. Right.” The maid shifted, her eyes sliding to the side.

“Hortense, did you forget the post?”

“No. That is, it’s in my basket, my lady.”

“And where is your basket?” Candace tilted her head, though her lips trembled with the force of keeping her grin at bay.

“Right. Well, I’ll just go get it, then.”

“Perhaps if you leave now, you’ll be back by tea.” She couldn’t help the tremor of laughter that rippled through her at the words. Hortense turned back in the doorway to scowl at her. “Hortense, you might glance in the mirror before you head back to the village. There’s a leaf in your hair.”

It was only after Hortense left that Candace realized she might have told her about James’s declaration on the road. She wrinkled her nose, finished her half-hearted attempt at lunch, and retired to the sitting room to read a book.

But after staring at the same page for nearly half an hour without comprehending a single word, Candace wondered if it would be too improper to return to the village and search out her maid, just to burn off some of her restless energy. Just to have someone to tell.

Then—sweet relief—the click of the front door closing echoed in the hall, and Vera murmured a greeting to Benson. Vera walked in a moment later. Her dress was a fetching sea blue, with narrow sleeves that gathered in a crisp, pleated ruffle at her elbows. Candace nearly sighed at the way the gown fit her friend’s lovely form perfectly, at how the color brought out the luster in her hair and eyes. Lady Ashbury must have tried very hard indeed to hide her daughter’s natural beauty—there was so much of it.

“Candace,” Vera said, dropping artlessly onto the sofa next to her. “Did you find the bunting you wanted? How was your trip to the village?”

Earth-tilting, Candace wanted to say. And it had nothing to do with the bunting.

Her heart raced. For hours, she’d longed for company, wanted to be able to share her wonderful news. But now that the moment had arrived, she didn’t want to hurt her friend.

“It was...” She cleared her throat. “It was quite eventful, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I saw James in town.”

“Have his friends arrived, then?”

“Not yet.”

Vera waited patiently, a curious tilt to her chin, as Candace twisted a pillow’s tassel between her fingers and didn’t meet her eyes.

Finally, she mustered the courage to blurt, “He asked if he could officially court me. And I said yes.”