Page 129 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

She didn’t look back as she headed toward Mrs. Penn. The housekeeper directed the other servants with the strictness of any regiment commander.

“How is it going?” Candace asked, slightly breathless from her fast walk over uneven terrain.

“Very well, my lady.”

Candace nodded and chanced a glance over her shoulder. Behind her, James stood at the edge of the crowd, frowning in her direction. Their eyes met for a searing moment before Candace inhaled sharply and turned back to the housekeeper.

“Do you need help with anything, Mrs. Penn?”

The woman arched a knowing eyebrow. “Not at all. Feel free to return to the party.”

“I will in a moment. I just wanted to check and make sure that we’ve made enough food.”

“Yes, my lady. We should have plenty. Even the desserts.”

“Wonderful.” Candace nodded and dithered. “Wonderful.”

She looked back toward the party. James had been joined by Miss Ritten and Lord Cavendish. Still, he looked in her direction. When their eyes met once more, Candace ducked her head.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I might do to help?”

Mrs. Penn sighed. “You may check on Mr. Benson, if you must.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Penn.”

“Of course, my lady.” The woman shook her head, smiling, as Candace strode away to check on Benson and the dessert table.

Some time later, after most of the guests were served, Candace—lacking even the pretense of something productive to do—procured a plate of food and sat upon a bright quilt near the lake’s edge. She faced the water and ate her sandwich in small bites while barely tasting it.

“Candace, you look positively charming,” Daisy Knope said from her side.

Candace turned gracefully with a smile instead of stiffening and scrambling the other direction, as instinct demanded.

“Thank you, Daisy. How do you find the picnic?”

“A bit rustic for my taste, of course.” She lowered herself to the blanket next to Candace and gracefully arranged her skirts. “But you look as if you belong here in the countryside.”

“Where are your companions?” she asked, ignoring the obvious barb.

She was surprised to find that Daisy’s thinly veiled insults had little power over her mood. Perhaps it was because the loss of James had already sunk her as low as she could go. Plunged as she was to the bottom of this miserable sea, Candace found she could barely hear Daisy’s words—they were too distorted by the deep waters of her own despair.

“They’re amusing themselves by watching the races.”

“And the marquess?” Candace added.

Daisy pursed her lips. “He wasn’t feeling well and returned to the house.”

“Ah.”

A sly smile gilded Daisy’s lips. “I noted the baroness was here.”

“I invited her personally.”

“You did?”

“Indeed.” Candace lifted her chin and forged ahead with what she wished to say. “I regret my words about the baroness during our dinner party the other evening. Jacqueline is a fine woman, and she’s been a far better friend to me than I have been to her. I hope to have half her grace, wit, and strength when I achieve her age.”

Daisy’s eyes were wide, the corners of her mouth curled upward in amazed delight. “The lady wears pants. In public.”