Page 56 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“No.” Vera shook her head, her eyes wide to accompany her earnest words. “There’s no need—truly. Now that I’ve seen him, I won’t be frightened of him, especially if I have warning first.”

“I suppose he would be frightening at first glance, but I can assure you that the great beast has no inclination toward harm. He’s possibly the sweetest dog I’ve ever met.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

Candace nodded and turned back to the window, just as their carriage passed a cart heading the same direction.

“Did you see that, Hortense?” Candace hissed, even though they were well past the man by that point and there was no way he could have heard her over the thud of horse hooves and the jingle of livery. Still, Candace thought the occasion warranted a whisper. “You didn’t miss Thomas’s arrival at Devon Manor, after all.”

She thought that her maid might take offense at her words and be irritated like she was before; instead, Hortense bunched her hands into the fabric of her skirts, instantly released them, and set to smoothing them out briskly.

Candace leaned back and smiled. This Thomas fellow had thrown her normally unflappable companion for a loop. If nothing else, it was nice to see a dreamy expression steal across Hortense’s face when she thought no one was looking.

When they alighted from the carriage in front of the house, Candace shooed her maid upstairs. “Go. See to your hair in my rooms. Use my brushes and pins and a bit of my rouge, if you like. But don’t go overboard—you already have a pleasing flush going.”

Hortense pursed her lips but fled up the stairs.

Candace turned to Vera. “Shall we try to spy, just a little bit?”

Vera nodded and smiled, but it was a listless, limp expression that didn’t look like Vera at all.

“Are you feeling well?” Candace asked, concerned.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Let’s sit in the music room—it has the best view of the servants’ door.”

When they were ensconced upon the wide window seat of the sun-drenched music room, Candace turned to her once more. “Are you sure you’re feeling quite well? I thought you might be having a difficult time at lunch with the baroness. Did she say something to bother you?”

“Not at all.” Vera’s eyes were wide. “The baroness is wonderful company.”

Candace nodded, nibbling her lower lip.

Vera hesitated, then began, “I suppose I should be honest, however⁠—”

“Oh! There he is!” Candace whispered as the tall form of Thomas came into view.

Vera clutched at Candace’s forearm. They watched as he hesitated near the back door, pausing to retuck his shirt and smooth his hair before he straightened his shoulders and rapped on the servants’ door. It was opened and he entered, out of their sight.

“I’m sorry, Vera. How rude of me to interrupt. What were you saying?”

“Nothing.” She smiled wanly, then nodded at the servants’ door. “What do you make of the potential couple?”

“If Thomas has his sights set on Hortense, he has his work cut out for him.” Candace frowned. “When she first came to me I thought there might have been a love in her past. Not that we were close enough for me to inquire about it at the time.”

Vera nodded. “We all have secrets.”

Candace was far too busy with her private memories of a moonlit garden to attend to the latent mystery in her friend’s words.

“Indeed.”

That night, the heavens opened and a deluge of rain battered Devon Manor. The next morning, Mrs. Penn was delighted; before it was even noon, she’d made three exclamations about how lovely it was to have a roof that didn’t leak.

Candace claimed a squashy old armchair before the crackling fire with an excellent view of the rain-splattered windows. There was something delightful about a storm when one could be inside, out of its way. She loved the contrast of the glowing red heat of the fire and the softness of a hand-knit blanket tucked over her knees, set against the roiling gloom of rain lashing against the glass.

Hortense hurried over and whispered into her ear.

Candace’s expression brightened; her back straightened. “Truly?”

Hortense nodded. “Miss Vera is in the back parlor with her novel; I think she'll be occupied for some time.”