Page 53 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“By the sounds of it, very. His betrothal seems like a good step in getting him back home—no lady I know would care to raise children in an apartment over a shipping office. Not when there are acres of space and a fine home with a nursery waiting right here.”

“Indeed.” Candace nodded. “Doubtless, they’ll be home shortly.”

“And what of your other sons, Baroness? Are they away at school?”

“My middle son is at Eton. My youngest is at home with me, though I fear he isn’t in a state to dine with such fine ladies as yourself.”

“Is he ill?” Candace blinked back her uncertainty. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Not at all.” The baroness laughed. “He’s a stout, healthy boy. It’s his age that is his affliction, nothing more. He’d take one glance at your pristine silk dress and be drawn to smudge or smear it in some way. Or he’d decide that your hat would make a fine balcony for one of the frogs he’s endlessly trying to smuggle into the house. It’s as if cleanliness and order are a personal offence to boys at his age; they cannot stand to leave anything but disorder and grime in their wake.”

“How old is he?” Vera smiled.

“Eight. The joy and bane of my existence. I shouldn’t have had him so late in life, perhaps, but then again, one cannot have a husband as handsome as my late Francis without expecting there to be consequences.”

Candace choked slightly on her sip of water; the baroness thunked her unhelpfully on the back.

“What a lovely room,” Vera supplied to head off the possibility of an awkward silence. “Such an incredible view.”

“Thank you; it’s one of my favorite spots in the house. If I had a green thumb, I suppose I could fill it with citrus or rare flowers, as some do, but I prefer to bring my writing folio in here when I have letters of business to attend to. The view of the property helps soothe my mind and soften my words to my stewards.”

Candace said, “I beg your pardon, but does your eldest help with the management of the estate?”

“No pardon needed, and no. His great crusade to bring health to the masses of Calcutta prevents that. The poets say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but in some cases, distance is just distance.”

“You’ve done an admirable job of it,” Candace said earnestly. “I wouldn’t know where to begin if I were tasked with keeping an estate running.”

“It’s not a position I ever thought I’d be in, to be sure. But that’s what life is—dealing with the loss of all the things we thought we’d have, and the things unexpectedly thrust upon us.”

“Indeed,” Candace said.

Though she spoke to the baroness, her eyes narrowed on Vera in concern. Her friend stared out one of the large windows, blinking rapidly as if trying to fend off tears once more.

Candace turned to Jacqueline and asked, “What is the most challenging issue in handling your estate, Baroness? That is, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jacqueline had a knowing lilt to her lips, as if she knew Candace had asked the question to draw attention from Vera.

She nodded her head in something like approval. “Indeed. It was difficult to handle the grief over the loss of my husband, while raising my younger sons and learning how to manage the stewards.”

“The stewards? Do you mean the estate?”

She laughed—a rich, hearty sound. “Make no mistake, Candace. The people are always the most difficult part of any scenario.”

Candace frowned with a sudden thought. “The late baron passed six years ago?”

The baroness nodded. “Next June will be seven.”

“And your eldest has been in India six years?”

“We all have different ways of processing grief. Speaking of, Candace—how are you doing?”

If Jacqueline had been a gossip or if she thought the woman meant to pry, Candace wouldn’t have answered so honestly, but she found herself saying, “Better than I expected, to be honest.”

“The country has that effect. Troubles that seem so large in the city often diminish with the wide room of the countryside as a backdrop.”

“I think it was all for the best. Perhaps I’ll remain unattached forever; perhaps that’s the way it should be. After all, there are many unmarried ladies who seem perfectly content. You’re an excellent example—living a life of your choosing, enjoying country pursuits.”

“You forget I’m a widow,” Jacqueline said kindly. “I’m making the best of the role, to be sure, but being unattached was never my design.”