Page 120 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

He bought her an enormous diamond. It couldn’t be more perfect for her.

Surely their romance eclipses everything that came before.

Candace ate course after course, hardly tasting anything, though she was sure it was delicious. For their part, the footmen seemed to have realized what was happening and must have reported it to the cook and Mrs. Penn, as the courses were served with nearly the relentless speed as the ladies’ comments.

At one point, Candace was certain that Miss Ritten had missed her fourth course altogether; the footman whisked her plate away before her fork touched her plate.

It should have bolstered her—that show of support from her staff. But Candace kept having to swallow sickness at the back of her throat. Her stomach pitched with dismay at every new barb. Embarrassment burned her cheeks, and even her stage smile wavered.

Her current understanding with James was the happiest she’d ever been, and to have him witness her past trotted out for others’ amusement was particularly painful. No one knew they were courting; the ladies had no way of knowing they were rubbing salt in James's wound as much as hers.

She’d wanted to forget the entire thing with Shelbourne. It was a disaster from beginning to end, and she’d mostly succeeded in putting it behind her.

This dinner was a jolting reminder that society would never forget. They’d chosen his side, lined up on the battlefield as surely as any regiment, and made their charge—against her.

Madame Aubert is to design the gown—the most beautiful she’s ever done, they say.

They’ll be married at St. Paul’s Cathedral, with all their friends and family in attendance. What a wonderful show of support—after all, he’s had such a difficult year.

It’s rumored he’s already commissioned a shared grave marker for them, as he wishes to remain close to her, even in death...

By the time the ladies had picked the bones of the conversation clean—as well as cracking them open and sucking out the very marrow—Candace felt as if she were the carcass they’d feasted upon.

When there were no more possible details to pore over, it was already the sixth course. The ladies looked at each other with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, as if hoping one of them would come up with an idea to continue.

“I believe the Baroness Winthrop was invited, but she couldn’t make it tonight,” Vera said to cover up the awkward silence. “Her son was ill, and she needed to tend to him.”

“Isn’t that what nursemaids are for?” Miss Ritten scoffed, even as she lifted her glass in silent demand to the footman.

Candace breathed a silent sigh of relief that they’d moved on to a different topic. She swallowed deeply and tried to calm her racing heart. The last hour felt as if she’d balanced on a taut wire as hundreds in attendance watched and waited to see if she’d fall.

“She’s a very conscientious mother,” Vera said.

“I’ve heard she’s an odd kind of character,” Daisy said. “Rumor has it, she’s very strange.”

“Indeed,” Miss Ritten said, leaning forward with a predatory smile. “I’ve heard she wears trousers.”

“Candace, you must have met the woman if you know her well enough to invite her to dine with us this evening. Tell us, are the rumors true?”

There was half a moment where Candace considered demurring, denying, or otherwise steering the conversation away. But she was exhausted and embarrassed, and they hadn’t even served the final course. She’d been looking for an escape from the conversational inferno this dinner party had turned into, and through the smoke and the flames, she glimpsed an out.

“It’s true,” she said, even as her stomach clenched within her. “She wears trousers.”

“Quite fashionable ones, though,” Vera added quickly.

“She always looks amazing,” Candace agreed. “Then again, she’s a striking woman.”

“No wonder she’s striking, if she’s wearing pants.”

Daisy tittered and Miss Ritten joined in.

“What else can you tell us of her?”

“She’s an excellent neighbor,” Candace said, cowed by the riot in her gut. “Very kind, compassionate. She loves animals.”

“Indeed,” Daisy said. “Now, the London gossip has been quite delicious as of late. But I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Candace? Attention is its own reward—I suppose you still get the papers and enjoy the recognition, even all the way out here.”

“Yes, do change the subject back to more interesting things. Ugh, I swear there is nothing as boring as country people,” Miss Ritten said stoutly. “If the most shocking thing that happens here is some old lady wearing pants about her estate, that would only figure.”