Page 125 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“I’ve betrayed you,” Candace blurted. She inhaled through her nose as the baroness slid her knife along the deer’s belly.

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t notice. Tell me the story, then.”

Candace took a deep breath. “At dinner last night, with Miss Knope and Miss Ritten... I tried to deflect their negative attention from me by joining in on their negative opinions of you.”

“What precisely did you say?”

Candace suddenly wished she’d waited to tell the baroness when the woman wasn’t holding a sharp knife.

“I confirmed that you wear pants and use chewing tobacco. I told them you keep animals inside your house. I told them you ride astride your horse and that the first time you visited, you deposited your rifle in the umbrella stand and tracked mud in on the carpet.”

“I did?” The baroness blinked, then turned back to the deer. “Very sorry about the mud, but other than that, you related nothing but the truth. I don’t see the problem.”

Candace’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps I’m not explaining this well. I laughed. With them. At your expense. At you. And I’m...I’m very sorry.”

Jacqueline reached into the deer’s midsection and pulled out some innards, then dropped them into a waiting bucket with a splat. Candace swallowed back bile and held her ground.

“Apology accepted,” Jacqueline said.

Candace blinked. “As easy as that?”

“Just so.”

“But...” Candace wrung her hands together. “Perhaps I’m not describing it well enough.”

Jacqueline arched an eyebrow. “You mocked me behind my back.”

“Yes.”

“And you regret it.”

“Very, very much.” Her voice wavered; tears hovered on her lower lashes, threatening to drop.

“Then I forgive you.”

“But how do you know I mean the apology? I don’t think you appreciate the depth of the injury I’ve done to you.”

The baroness turned to her, dripping knife in hand. “Candace Waldrey, when you first arrived here from London, you’d just broken your engagement. You were running from all the gossips and scandal sheets in London. But you looked perfect. Flawless.”

Candace waited for her to continue, then prompted, “So?”

“This morning, you look worse than this deer. I forgive you.”

Candace burst into tears.

The baroness laughed, not unkindly. “My dear, under any other circumstance, I’d hug you, but I don’t think your ensemble would survive the experience.”

“I appreciate the sentiment all the same.” Candace sniffled and set her face to rights with a handkerchief—her third one that morning.

Jacqueline smiled sadly. “I’m sorry to see your distress. This cannot be all on my account.”

She shook her head. “No. Unfortunately, Ja— the Duke of Canterbury and I have had a disagreement. He’s ended our courtship.”

“Ah.” She turned back toward the carcass, which was now dripping blood at a rapid pace. “Was this a result of you speaking ill of me?”

“Yes,” she croaked.

“I doubt it’s truly over, but even if it is, you will recover. A heart is a surprisingly resilient thing.”