Page 35 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Hortense glanced up from draping one of Candace’s many gowns on a hanger. “Yes, my lady. Mrs. Penn wouldn’t hear of me helping until she’d fed me and I rested my feet for a while. She seems like a good sort. Her kitchen is spotless and all her staff seem to respect her.”

“That bodes well for comfort during our stay.”

“How long might we be staying, my lady?” Hortense asked the question carefully—the same way one might pick their way across an ice-slicked sidewalk.

Candace frowned. “I’m sorry, Hortense. I should have discussed the matter with you more before dragging you out here in such a fashion. I’m not sure how long we’ll be in Devon—long enough for the furor in London to die down. Was there...is there something in particular you’ll miss in London while we’re gone?”

“Not at all, my lady.” She seemed to be telling the truth—her shoulders had relaxed at Candace’s words. “I enjoy country life very much. The air is cleaner, the people more honest. And I won’t have to stifle the urge to thwack at Miss Knope’s ankles with a parasol whenever she’s cruel to you. Forgive me for saying so, my lady.”

Candace grinned. “No forgiveness needed.”

Later, Candace sunk to her chin in the copper bathing tub, steam drifting lazily from the water, the scent of lavender and chamomile wafting pleasantly in the small, windowless bathing chamber.

Despite the warm welcome of the day, despite the pleasant surprise of finding the estate much more comfortable and in far better repair than she could have hoped, Candace pressed her lips together to keep her chin from trembling.

The truth of the matter was, she’d been thrown over. Not technically, as she had been the one to formally end the engagement, but Shelbourne had left her no choice, and he’d done it so publicly.

Would you have ended it if he hadn’t embarrassed you publicly? a small voice inside prodded. Or would you have endured a thousand times more humiliation as long as no one else knew about it?

What a disturbing question—one she didn’t want to ponder too closely. The fact was, Shelbourne had embarrassed her, and done so flagrantly. Her demure announcement in the paper had been a forgone conclusion after that. He was the one who’d instigated it, forced her hand.

Still, below the roiling embarrassment and shame that she could barely untangle was a deep, echoing relief. At least it was done. At least their engagement was over. James was right—her broken engagement was a sharp disappointment, the equivalent of stepping on an upturned tack with bare feet.

But if she’d married Shelbourne...that would have been an incurable, lifelong disease that would have rotted her bones. She shuddered, sending circular ripples out from where her knees peeped above the water line. She would have spent the next years wishing for death—hers or Shelbourne’s.

The irony was that she’d only entered into the betrothal in order to avoid scandal. And the only way out of it had been a much more public one.

Candace huffed a laugh that sent tendrils of steam swirling atop the water. It was the most hilarious punchline. Or it would have been, if it had not been at her expense.

If only time were as simple as winding thread back onto a spool; if only she could go back to those moments in the garden. Or no...if only she could go back to before those moments and stay primly at the edge of the ballroom as she should have.

It was too late for regrets, however.

Or perhaps that was the definition of regret: too late.

Candace put a firm hand to the rudder of her mind and did her best to steer it in a new direction. What came next? She thought of the baroness, of this house, of what James had said with conviction in his deep voice.

I have no doubt that your very best days are ahead of you.

If only she could believe that, too.

CHAPTER 12- CANDACE

From the Quentin Daily-

Beware the Dark Walk of Vauxhall Gardens, a shadowy corridor of illicit liaisons and the birthing of many a scandal! Only last week, a young lady was found in the presence of an unmarried man! We have it on excellent authority that the young lady is to be wed as soon as a proper dowry can be negotiated. One wonders how much haggling a noble family will stoop to when it comes to the honor of their daughter!

Morning dawned grey and cloudy, a perfect accompaniment to Candace’s mood. Despite the determination she’d experienced in the bath the previous day, she felt sullen and tired.

Mrs. Penn and her staff laid an impressive breakfast on the sideboard, especially considering only Candace and Vera were eating. Candace nodded at the footman, who scooped more scrambled eggs onto her porcelain plate. Another followed with bacon and sausage. There was French toast, biscuits, country gravy—which she unabashedly poured over her eggs—and cinnamon swirls.

By the time the footmen returned to their spots on either side of the buffet, Candace had a slight headache and a very full plate.

“Will one of you please send for Mrs. Penn?” she asked politely.

One of the footman whirled from the room as if Candace had just screamed “Fire!”

She sighed.