Page 117 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

He resumed kicking at the sizeable hole he’d made with his boot, and Candace guessed that their discussion had reached its natural conclusion. She turned back to weeding the last few unruly sprouts.

Several minutes later, she stood and wiped her hands off on her apron. “Shall we go and see what Mrs. Davis has on offer for lunch? I think I might have heard her say she was going to bake shortbread in honor of your arrival today.”

Candace knew very well the cook had—she’d requested it herself. Arthur whooped and threw one arm in the air in celebration. Seamus rose and lumbered over, tail wagging—he was always happy to celebrate anything with his favorite person.

Over the next day, Candace cursed herself many times for extending the initial dinner party invitation in the first place, even as she invited more people. She hoped that the addition of James and the other gentlemen would serve to dilute the pernicious ladies she’d already invited to share her table. But as soon as the hope landed, fear chased it away once more.

If the marquess had been fool enough to ask the foul Daisy Knope to marry him, he was either cruel or an imbecile. Meaning he either enjoyed the lady’s barbs, or they sailed too far over his head for him to temper.

As for the fair Miss Ritten, it only took five minutes for Candace to suss that she’d come to the country for the same reason the men had—hunting. Though her quarry was far more valuable than a simple deer.

At least Candace couldn’t fault the household staff. Mrs. Penn had read between the lines of Candace’s story, and Devon Manor had never looked better than it did that evening. Torches lit the driveway; the entire first floor had been cleaned top to bottom and the table set as if royalty were coming to visit.

Hortense—who in fact had been privy to the entire prickly conversation—took her task seriously as well. Candace and Vera were dressed and primped and had time to settle in the front parlor to have a small glass of wine—just to take the nerves away, Mrs. Penn said—half an hour before their guests were to arrive.

Vera looked a vision in a peach-colored gown. The capped-sleeve bodice was tightly stitched in layers of sheer overlapping pleats to her hips. There, the chiffon was left loose, allowing the gauzy skirts to froth above her jeweled slippers. She wore long sheer gloves of the same material that attached to the cap sleeves with a hook hidden at her inner arm. Candace had lent her pearls for her neck and diamonds for her ears.

Candace chose the deep-green velvet ensemble she’d worn for the first dinner party at Devon Manor. Normally, she abhorred re-wearing a gown within the same social season, but it was her most becoming look, and as James and Vera were the only ones who’d already seen it, she didn’t think it a faux pas to wear it again. Tonight, her clothing was armor once more, and she needed her finest set.

At the crunch of gravel upon the drive, Candace and Vera both stiffened and looked at one another.

Candace gave Vera a bolstering smile, remembering that she wasn’t the only one nervous about the evening. Vera wasn’t popular within society and had undoubtedly enjoyed the respite in Devon nearly as much as Candace. Adding to the fact that comments would certainly be made about the change in her appearance, and Vera might have more reason than Candace to be anxious.

“Whatever happens tonight, we’ll still have each other in the morning.” Vera gave a lopsided smile.

“Indeed, dear friend.”

“Has Devonshire written back yet?” she murmured as the front door opened down the hall.

“Not yet. Though I cannot decide if it would be better or worse if we could announce a betrothal to these ladies.”

“Excellent point.”

They rose to greet their guests as Benson appeared in the doorway.

“May I announce...” He began listing their guests in order of prominence, and Candace did her best to focus on remembering names.

Lord Cavendish was the one with the warm smile and the sandy-blond hair. He’d only recently returned to England from India. He was popular with the ladies, though he never led anyone on.

Lord Howers had dark hair and somehow retained a pinched expression even when he smiled. Candace thought he rather reminded her of some kind of rodent, but a polite one.

The Baron Fitzgerald had hair nearly the same hue as Vera and looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else.

The Marquess Beaufort extended his elbow to his betrothed, the loathsome Daisy Knope. For her part, she looked as well as she was able in a sapphire-colored silk with earrings to match.

Mrs. Knope and Miss Ritten made up the rear, each crowding a side of James, who smiled warmly at Candace. For a moment, looking into his eyes, she almost believed that the dinner party might be tolerable.

Then Daisy spoke and shattered that illusion. “Good heavens, is that you, Vera?”

Vera inclined her head.

“Apologies,” Candace rushed to say. “I forget that not everyone here has been introduced. May I present⁠—”

“We all know her,” Daisy interrupted rudely. Even the Marquess frowned down at her. “It’s Vera Ashbury, the savior of all the discarded curtains in Mayfair.”

Candace pressed her lips together; her eyes flashed. “As I was saying, allow me to introduce my very dear friend, Miss Vera Ashbury.”

The gentlemen in the room exchanged bows and pleasantries with Vera, who smiled and greeted them back. All the while, the Marquess still frowned down at Daisy. She finally noticed, looked up, and lifted a rebellious eyebrow in response. His frown deepened at her expression.