Page 115 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Candace wished that she was more like the baroness. Jacqueline would look these ladies up and down, gain their measure in a trice, and walk straight back out the door, good manners be damned.

“Only yesterday, but the duke and Martha have hit it off especially well already,” Daisy crooned. “Isn’t that right, Martha?”

“I’m very pleased, indeed. Such a man, with such a head of hair. It’s a shame he’s all the way out here with no real company to speak of.”

“Yes, but we’re here now to rectify that, and I daresay he’s ever so grateful.” They shared a conspiratorial smile.

“It’s true.” Miss Ritten nodded, setting the feathers on her hat fluttering. Candace fought the urge to swat and tear at them like an angry cat. “And with the way things are going, I’ve no doubt that he’ll return with us to London when the time comes for us to leave.”

Candace nearly snapped, And when is that?

Instead, she reinforced her societal smile. Her cheeks felt stretched with the effort of it. It had been so long since she’d needed to employ the false expression that she’d forgotten how it pinched—both inside and out.

Candace said, “James enjoys country and city life equally, I believe. There are so many advantages to both; it’s hard to choose.”

She enjoyed the blink of surprise when she used Canterbury’s given name—neither of the ladies were close enough to have been invited to do so.

“I wasn’t aware you and the duke were on such informal terms.”

“He’s a close family friend.”

It was the truth, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Right then, Candace could have cheerfully strangled Percy for being too far away to give James his blessing. Not that it was his fault—he was away on his honeymoon, hardly a selfish venture. But still.

“This garden party...are you sure Devon Manor is ready for visitors?” Daisy pressed, a little moue of concern on her lips. “I’ve heard the place is all but abandoned. The way people talk, one would have to be desperate to escape to somewhere like that.”

Candace’s smile froze until it was as brittle as winter’s last ice. “Not at all. It’s more than comfortable.”

Miss Ritten raised her shoulder in a shrug. “If you say so. I hardly think it could compare to our accommodations at Montclare. Some of our party were invited to take rooms just down the hall from the duke himself.”

“I’ve no doubt he’s a wonderful host.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t invite you to stay, what with the deplorable conditions of Devon Manor.”

Candace was distracted by the thought of one of these ladies occupying a room just doors down from James, as well as provoked by the insinuation that she’d been desperate to come here at all.

Which explained how she found herself saying the most horrifying words she might have ever uttered.

“You must come to dinner and see for yourself,” she said. “Tomorrow night.”

Daisy’s smile was feline. “We absolutely wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

CHAPTER 34- CANDACE

From Gardening for the Estate-

Although many estates in England are rightly proud of the protective walls that ensconce the most important buildings from the outside world, it is worthy to point out that a wall or fence can often be made more beautiful by the addition of a flowering vine or a stately ivy. Not only do such plants soften the facade of unsightly barriers, but they also lend a sense of permanence and grandeur to otherwise utilitarian fixtures.

“I know I’m not supposed to say so, but I don’t like them very much.” Arthur dug the toe of his boot into a divot in the ground for purposes only known to him.

Candace rested on her knees, weeding a planter box. Arthur was supposed to be helping her, but he stood at her side and chatted instead. She didn’t mind; she liked him, and she remembered doing much the same to her own mother once.

Seamus roamed the walled garden, snuffling in dark corners and marking the boxwood that Mr. Scott had trimmed into elegant curves. She’d have to ask someone to toss a few buckets of water over the shrubbery that afternoon. When Seamus left a mark, he did so thoroughly.

“Why is that?” she asked.

“The ladies don’t like Seamus.” He gestured toward his dog with a scowl. “Why would anyone not like Seamus?”

Seamus was currently marking a watering can. The force of his stream rang against the metal.