Page 135 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

For it was her brother, despite the fact that he was supposed to be in France for another month, at least. Percy’s hair stood up in that foppish way that let her know he’d been running his hands through it. Those red strands were like a weather barometer for her brother’s moods—the higher the hair, the more irritated he was. Right now, his hair stood very high, indeed.

“It’s my house, Candace. The real question is, what is everyone else doing here?”

James nodded. “Percy, wonderful to see you.”

“You, too, Canterbury. I expect you’ll visit us the first chance you get?”

There was a challenge in Percy’s tone that Candace didn’t quite understand. She frowned up at him.

“I’ll call upon you tomorrow, unless Arthur is ill. I must get him home,” James said. He glanced over his shoulder. The wagon was unloaded; his carriage was already being brought round.

“Of course,” Candace said stiffly. “I hope neither of you catches a cold.”

He bowed once more and walked away. Candace couldn’t keep herself from admiring the strong lines of his back beneath his wet shirt.

“Stop gawking and get inside,” Percy chided.

She sighed and followed him in; she had little energy left to deal with Percy’s mood.

They must have only just arrived. Inside, her new sister-by-law, Adelaide, was directing the delivery of a stack of trunks in the hallway. As several of the footmen belonged to James's household, and Adelaide had never visited Devon Manor before, the enterprise was having predictably slow results.

“Second floor. Third door on the left in the west wing,” Candace offered when Adelaide told one of James's footmen to take the trunk to the main bedchambers.

“Thank you,” Adelaide said, rushing over to kiss Candace’s damp cheek. “How are you?”

“Quite well,” Candace said, smiling. “How was your trip? How was Paris?”

“No, no, no,” Percy said, his fists propped on his hips. “No pleasantries or conversation until I sort out this mess.”

Adelaide and Candace shared similar expressions of amusement.

“Of course, darling,” Adelaide said with an indulgent wave of her hand. “By all means, proceed.”

“What on earth is going on here, Candace?” Percy demanded, rounding on her. He wrinkled his nose. “Have you been swimming?”

Candace released the quilt from her shoulders; it slopped onto the marble tiles. “More like nearly drowning, though I suppose it all depends on perspective.”

“You nearly drowned? Where? What happened? And why are there two hundred people in the back pasture and a strange footman at the door who initially barred me from my own house? Where on earth is Mrs. Penn?”

“Percy dear,” Adelaide said, putting a hand protectively to her stomach. “Calm down. She cannot answer you if you’re badgering her. Let’s go into the parlor so she can at least stand near the fire while you interrogate her.”

Candace blinked, then tore her eyes away from her new sister. Apparently, they hadn’t wasted their honeymoon; no wonder they were home earlier than expected. Candace had seen numerous ladies make the unconscious signal that Adelaide had just given. The marchioness probably wasn’t aware she’d let their news slip. Thankfully, Candace was the only one who’d been around to notice.

She followed them to the parlor and stood near the fire. The heat instantly soaked through her wet clothing; she shuddered as the warmth thawed her.

“Very well. We’re in the parlor,” Percy said, his nostrils flaring. “Please, dear sister, explain the current set of bizarre circumstances.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes and sat on the sofa, propping her feet up next to her.

“I threw a garden party for the village.”

“Naturally,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “As one does.”

“Percy!” Adelaide chided. “Let her finish.”

“And Seamus fell in the lake, and Arthur went after him, and I of course had to try to save them both.”

“You went in on purpose?” He ran a hand through his red hair, making it stand out at all angles as if he’d weathered an electrical storm.