Page 30 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“Was your mother quite upset when you decided to take this trip?”

“Surprised more than anything, I imagine.” Vera bit her plump lower lip, staring out into the neglected gardens once more. “This is a lovely view. I imagine all the rooms have an abundance of natural light from the way the house is situated.”

“I only hope the bedrooms have very thick curtains.” Candace let her head fall back against the patinaed leather. “I plan on sleeping for at least a week straight.”

A sharp knock rapped on the doorframe. Candace lurched into a more upright sitting position as Vera turned to the door.

“Good morning,” the newcomer said.

Candace blinked, but the lady’s strange appearance didn’t change with the slight pause. For it was a lady, despite the trim trousers tucked into knee-high boots that might proclaim otherwise. She wore a crisp white tunic with a black silk cravat. Over that was a short jacket that cinched at the waist.

The woman was perhaps forty years old, with lustrous raven-black hair braided back from the luminous skin of her face. Dark-brown eyes were sharpened by two bold slashes of eyebrow beneath an old wide-brimmed leather hat. Despite her odd dress, she was a very handsome lady.

But it was the sight of the rifle held down at the lady’s side that captured Candace’s wide-eyed attention the most. The woman held the gun with the same insouciant confidence with which Candace held a painted fan.

“Oh,” the lady said, noting Candace’s gaze. “Apologies. I didn’t know if the carriage I saw held guests or vagabonds.”

She crossed the room, casually deposited her rifle in the umbrella stand, and after a half-second pause, removed her hat and hung it from the antler of a deer head mounted on the wall. Candace pressed her lips together instead of asking what on earth the woman had intended to do if they had been vagabonds.

“Do you...do you live here?” Candace felt her way carefully around the words, even as the inexplicable lady sat on the other end of the sofa Candace occupied.

“Goodness, no. I’m the neighbor of this property, the Baroness Winthrop.” She held out a hand, and Candace shook it.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Lady Candace Waldrey, and this is my dear friend, Miss Vera Ashbury.”

“Ah, Percy’s sister.” The woman nodded knowingly, crossing her legs scandalously at the knees and draping one arm languorously along the back of the sofa. “I didn’t know anyone was taking up residence. Or perhaps you’re just visiting?”

“Visiting for the foreseeable future.” Candace nodded. “Would you like to join us for tea?”

Hortense was carrying in a large, laden tray. One with three teacups on it—Mrs. Penn must have heard the baroness arrive.

“That would be lovely, thank you. I skipped lunch to try to chase down a stag—a fruitless endeavor today, apparently. What brings you to Devon?”

Mercy, but this lady was direct. Then again, nothing about her appearance or mannerisms hinted at any sort of artifice. The only decoration on her person was the large, flouncing bow in lieu of a knot in her cravat.

Candace didn’t know if it was the lady’s straightforwardness or her own absolute exhaustion that prompted her to answer with the truth. “I don’t suppose you get the Quentin Daily out here, do you?”

The baroness exhaled pure disdain through her nose. “That gossip rag? No one would pay a pence for that in this part of the country.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Why? Have they printed something about you?”

“I ended my engagement last week.”

Vera circled a chair warily and sat, watching.

“Ah.” There was a wealth of knowledge in that word—as if no further explanation could possibly be needed. The baroness lifted her eyes to Candace and poured them tea. “Nothing the ton loves more than a scandal involving a beautiful, eligible young lady.” Her eyes landed on Vera. “And you must be her devoted companion, here for solidarity. Am I right?”

Vera nodded, though she’d tensed ever so slightly at the word “companion.” Candace filed that curiosity away for later contemplation.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place for obscurity and relaxation. The London set haven’t bothered me or mine in years. Can’t say that I miss it. As for the Quentin Daily, what can gossip papers like those tell me about people? Until I meet them, see how they treat me and others, what else is there to know about them than that?”

“I can tell you’ve never been maligned in a newspaper,” Candace grumbled, accepting the offered teacup. Technically, she was the hostess and should pour the tea, but this entire social interaction had been backward from the start.

“They wouldn’t dare.”

Vera said, “Why? Would you send your solicitor after them?”