Page 126 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Candace was staring at the deer again; she could barely register the baroness’s words. She’d never known that one animal could contain so much blood, so much viscera. How Jacqueline could stand to keep cutting at it...

“Would you like to stay for tea? I have about an hour’s worth of work left here, but then we could have refreshment.”

“No, thank you. I’ll head home.”

The baroness turned to her fully. Blood slicked her glove and dripped from her blade. “Are you certain?”

“Please don’t be offended by my abrupt departure, Jacqueline, but I desperately want to get away from that deer.”

She laughed. “Of course. I’ll see you at the garden party.” She gave an impertinent grin. “I’ll be the one in pants.”

Later that same day, a messenger arrived carrying a parcel addressed to Candace. She unfolded the note with trembling fingers, hope and dread warring in equal measure that it might be some kind of letter from James. To her relief or disappointment—she couldn’t tell—the handwriting was distinctively feminine.

Candace,

I hope you’ll accept this gift in the spirit it was given—as a token of our friendship, which I enjoy very much. Though my dressmaker insists on attempting to broaden my horizons into softer colors and patterns, I never acquiesce. After all, I am who I am, no matter who approves.

I sincerely hope that you’ll be able to say the same someday, without any reservation. Life is best lived authentically, even if your circle of friends becomes smaller and despite the fact that outsiders won’t hesitate to mock the light they see in your heart, even as they envy it.

Your dear friend,

Jacqueline

Candace unwrapped the package to find a lovely blue-and-white striped coat dress, in the same style that the baroness typically wore, as well as a coordinating set of blue trousers. The dress buttoned down the front and had a sash at the waist, currently tied into a plucky, oversized bow.

Candace smiled down at the coat and her eyes welled with tears once more. At least that terrible night hadn’t ruined a friendship along with her relationship with James. At least Jacqueline forgave her.

The ensemble was lovely. Jacqueline was right—it looked far more like Candace than it did her.

In fact, Candace knew just what to do with it.

CHAPTER 36- JAMES

From Flowers and Botany, Volume III-

Roses—the classic and most revered of all blooms—are also the most prolific. Although often used in traditional, more formal gardens, roses can also be tucked into more casual groupings. They offer a stately presence among other flowers, and the bushes themselves can be ornamental, even when not producing blooms. However, it is worth noting that even the most beautiful varieties contain thorns.

“What’s the matter?” Lord William Cavendish asked.

“Nothing at all,” James said.

They rode side by side; the rest of the hunting party had gone ahead. Though it was nearly ten, the sun had barely broken through the low clouds. It was perfect weather for hunting—cool and a bit overcast. Still, James frowned down at the field below.

“It’s to be like that, is it?” William rested his hand on the pommel, holding his reins loosely. “You aren’t going to enter into my confidence in the matter?”

James shrugged, grunted.

Ever since his friends had arrived with those detestable ladies in tow, James's life had tumbled down the gulley. Last night had been a debacle from beginning to end. He had many regrets, the first of which was the fact that Daisy Knope and her crowing counterparts had arrived at all.

“Oh, come now,” William pressed. “Just because the marquess has gone off his head and may be lost to reason forever doesn’t mean that I’ve joined him.”

James shook his head. He should have known better than to try to keep something from William. Though he was quite a bit younger than James, the man was the shrewdest businessman James had ever met. He was so good at reading expressions, sometimes James fancied the man could actually hear others’ thoughts.

“I have noted you keep a special distance from the ladies,” James said.

He gave a sly smile. “I told them I have a terrible rash under my jacket. Very contagious, the doctor said. Then it was just a matter of scratching myself every so often on the journey, and none of them have hinted at needing my elbow for anything.”

James couldn’t help it—he chuckled, though his laughter dropped off as if it had stepped off a cliff.