Page 12 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

F rom the Quentin Daily -

Scandal in the ballroom! Last night, a prominent lady was made a public spectacle when her betrothed danced with other ladies, but not her, not once!

When they finally met, he gave the lady the cut direct, turning his back!

Is he also turning his back on his promise to marry her?

More to come tomorrow, including an anonymous source who claims the entire engagement was a lie put forth by the lady herself!

When Bernard escorted Vera into the sun-drenched sitting room later that morning, her eyes were stretched wide. Candace stood to greet her, taking both her hands and guiding her to sit close on a green velvet sofa.

“The hallway…” Vera said, bewildered.

Candace offered a brief, tight smile. “You’ll have to forgive me for seeing you while the household is in such disarray. I’ve created a bit of an uproar.”

Vera still blinked in the direction she’d come from. “I’ve never seen so many trunks. Are you…” She turned toward Candace abruptly, her eyes clear. “You’re leaving.”

She nodded. “I’m only home to you at the moment. Well, you and Canterbury, but he doubtless has better things to do than fret about me. Do you know that Bernard has turned away five sets of visitors already?”

“The gossips are early today. I thought I’d be the first one.” Vera shook her head, her ash brown curls swaying with the motion. “Where are you going? I’ll miss you so!”

“I’m hoping you won’t have to miss me at all.”

Vera’s eyebrow arched. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m going to my brother’s estate in Devon, and I wish for you to come with me.”

Vera leaned back, as if Candace’s idea was a mighty wind she had to fight against. “You do?”

“Of course! I’ll be dreadfully lonely rambling about that great house by myself if you don’t come.

And think of all the grand adventures we could have in the countryside—drinking hot tea by the fireplace in the evenings, long walks down to the village.

We’ll celebrate Easter with a garden picnic in the fresh air. ”

Vera’s head cocked, her eyes fixed over Candace’s shoulder, as if she could see everything she was describing.

Then she frowned. “Mother will never allow it.”

“You could tell her it’s excellent practice for learning how to be a companion.” Candace winced a smile. “It might be selfish, but I very much wish for you to come. You’re my dearest friend, Vera.”

“I am?”

She laughed. “Of course you are. And by a great distance, too. I know my request will incite your mother’s ire, but even still, I can’t help asking. Perhaps if you make your petition when she’s in an excellent mood?”

Vera’s shoulders slumped. “She’s never in an excellent mood. She can find fault with the best situations.”

“A hard talent to bear, that’s for certain.”

A great thump echoed in the hall, as if a heavy trunk had been set down upon the marble with alacrity. The noise was followed by Bernard’s hissed admonishments.

“Still, I’ll ask her permission. For you.” Vera gave Candace’s hand a little squeeze, and she squeezed back, her heart warm with gratitude.

Lady Ashbury was difficult on the best of days, when Vera had done nothing to provoke her. Candace could only imagine what presenting such a request would cost.

Vera straightened her spine and her smile in obvious determination. “Perhaps she’ll surprise us both and be agreeable.”

“Perhaps.”

“When do you leave?”

Candace scrunched her nose. “This afternoon. I apologize for the lateness of my invitation, but I decided to go only just this morning. After I left Shelbourne.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve seen him then? How did it go?”

“It was as expected. Shelbourne was an ungentlemanly lout and Hortense whacked him round the shins with her umbrella. ”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Vera looked round. “Where is she? I shall compliment her to show my appreciation.”

“She’s packing the rest of my trunks.”

“There are more of them?”

“You know how fond I am of clothes.”

“You’re taking all of them?” Vera snickered. “Hortense has a busy day ahead of her. I’ll compliment her later, then. She’s quite vain about her hair, you know.”

“Is she?” Candace pursed her lips, thinking. “I’ve never noticed.”

The metallic rap of the brass knocker on the front door echoed down the hallway.

Candace stiffened, even though she knew Bernard and a household of servants stood between her and whichever visitor stood on her front step.

No doubt whoever it was had been hoping to wish Candace well in the slyly pernicious way only noble ladies could accomplish.

The door to the entryway snapped shut, so she didn’t hear Bernard’s murmured refusal. Candace had instructed the servants to keep the door between the entryway and the front hall closed; she didn’t want any visitors to glimpse the pile of trunks in the hall.

“Is it done, though? With Shelbourne, I mean.”

“All that’s left is to announce it.” Candace nodded to the missive on the sideboard, already written, folded, and addressed.

“I won’t send it until I’m safely away. The moment that note leaves the house, it’s only a matter of hours before the gossip rags will start chewing on the carcass of our engagement. ”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone as she said the last .

“What a way with words you have,” Vera teased lightly. “Perhaps you should do some writing of your own, give that mysterious Mr. Pickwick some competition.”

A flare of humor rose in Candace’s chest; she chuckled and bumped her shoulder against Vera. “See? This is exactly why I wish for you to join me—I’d thought it impossible that I’d ever laugh again, and you’ve managed it within the first minutes of your arrival.”

“I’ll ask Mother.” Vera nodded as if determined. “I’ll send you a note with my regrets by three if I cannot convince her.”

Hours later, Candace sat stiffly in the parlor.

She wore a crisp navy travelling ensemble—a trim jacket over matching dress.

Each shoulder was embroidered with black flowers, which vaguely reminded her of the epaulettes of a military coat.

The faceted jet buttons down the center of the bodice accentuated her nipped waist and matched the jewels on her chic hat.

It was a daring design—streamlined, with a fine netting that pulled down over her face.

Candace thought an escape to the countryside a perfect time to try such a bold creation.

It was doubtful anyone would see her, but if they caught a glimpse in the brief interlude between front door and carriage, perhaps they’d be too charmed or confounded by her hat to call out and oblige her to ignore them.

She clutched the corded drawstrings of her purse and glanced at the ticking ormolu clock on the mantel for the thousandth time. It was quarter past three, and Vera’s messenger hadn’t yet delivered a note. Perhaps she had forgotten?

Candace chased the idea away the second it landed. Vera wouldn’t have forgotten their conversation. She was a dedicated, steady friend—conscientious in all ways.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart. Vera hadn’t forgotten, and the least Candace could do after issuing such a monumental request was to stay long enough to receive her response. She surveyed the room dispassionately.

For having such short notice, her brother’s household had handled her request to depart that afternoon exceedingly well.

Trunk after trunk had been discreetly loaded onto a plain service cart from the back door.

Most of her clothes were probably already halfway to Camberley, though her carriage would undoubtedly overtake them somewhere on the way to Devon.

Even now, the horses were hitched, the footmen waiting to load her, Hortense, and their travelling valises.

She’d ensured that Hortense had packed several novels for the journey—she’d read to pass the time if the lighting was good.

The faint clicking of the clock drew her eyes once more. Twenty minutes past the hour.

The netting over her face tickled her chin, and she exhaled an irritated breath to adjust it. She could have swept it back from her face, but Hortense had arranged it just so. In Candace’s experience, she looked much better if she just bore slight irritations instead of tugging at things .

Appearance before comfort, she thought sarcastically.

This mess with Shelbourne was the first time she’d broken the sartorial rule she’d somehow applied to her entire existence. Her slim nose wrinkled at the thought.

Thankfully, the door opened, preventing her from having to examine the notion too closely. Candace stood in reflex and was delighted when Bernard showed Vera in.

“Vera! Does this mean you’re coming to Devon? I never thought your mother would let you go.”

Vera rushed forward, a bit breathless, and kissed Candace’s cheek. “I’m coming. If you’ll still have me after my tardiness, that is. I’m so sorry; I lost track of time in the hustle of packing.”

“Of course; no apologies needed.” She smiled and clasped her friend’s hand. “I’m delighted you’ll be joining me.”

“Right. Well, shall we go?” Vera cast a glance over her shoulder at the door. “I know you’ve been waiting. I don’t want to hold you here any longer.”

“Of course.” Candace made eye contact with the butler, who stood stoically near the door. “Please call for the carriage, Bernard. Inform Hortense we mean to depart immediately. Please ensure that Cook packed enough sandwiches for Vera, as well.”

“At once, my lady.” He gave a quick bow and retreated.

Vera fluffed and smoothed the skirts of her travelling ensemble.

The color was nice—a deep chocolate brown—but the texture reminded Candace of a coarse wool carpet that had seen a lifetime of wear.

Whoever sat next to her in the carriage would be chafed if their bare skin came into contact with her dress.

Candace frowned. “Have your mother and father not come to see you away?”

“We said our farewells at the house; I was running late and didn’t want to delay you further.”

Candace glanced into the hall, looking for Vera’s maid. “Is your maid waiting out front?”

Vera give a strained smile. “Mother couldn’t spare her. I’m afraid I’ll need to borrow Hortense if need arises. I hope that won’t be an imposition.”

“Not at all.” Candace smiled warmly to reassure her. “I don’t care if you’re coming with just the clothes on your back, as long as you’re coming.”

Vera barked a laugh that came out like the alarmed bray of a donkey, then cleared her throat in embarrassment.

“Really, Vera,” Candace said. “It will be such a joy to have you with me; I cannot thank you enough. Do your parents require you home by a specific date?”

She gave a tight smile, shook her head. “I’m yours indefinitely.”

“How wonderful!” Candace beamed.

The expression stretched her face; she’d gone without smiling in such a way the past few weeks. All the more reason to get away to Devon.

“Yes, well…” Vera nervously smoothed her skirts again. “I suppose I should tell you?—”

The arrival of Bernard and Hortense cut her off.

“The carriage is ready, my lady,” Bernard said.

“Wonderful. Will you please see to Vera’s luggage?”

“I’ve taken the liberty of loading Miss Ashbury’s bag.” He nodded at Vera. “Miss Ashbury, was that all? ”

“Yes, Bernard, just the one. Thank you,” Vera said, slightly breathless.

“Very good, miss.”

The group moved into the wide hallway, where maids draped soft sheeting over the round table. Without Candace or Percy in residence, most of the house would be closed, packed away in place until they returned.

It wasn’t until they were in the entryway with the front door standing open to the cold, grey afternoon that Candace remembered Vera had been about to tell her something.

She touched her elbow. “What were you saying earlier?“

“Oh, nothing.” She gave a strained smile. “Only that I’m not overly fond of horses.”

“We’ll be safe in the carriage.”

They loaded quickly with a flurry of well-wishes from Bernard and the housekeeper on the front stoop. Candace didn’t lift her head on the walk from the front door to the carriage, and the footman hustled her inside as if he understood the urgency with which she wanted to leave.

Vera settled on the seat next to her, though Candace gave her horsehair-like skirts a wide berth. Hortense sat across from them and made meaningful eye contact with Candace, who nodded at her.

“I saw no one while I waited on the top stair, my lady.”

Candace nodded, relieved. Hortense possessed a sharp eye—if someone had been lurking, she would have spotted them.

The carriage jostled as the footman stowed the stairs and boarded.

The driver called something to the horses, gently slapped his reins, and they were rolling over the cobblestones.

Though it was unladylike, Candace leaned back against the plush upholstery and removed her hat.

She’d done it. She’d escaped with minimal consequence.

Her mind flew to the folded piece of paper Bernard would see delivered within the next hour. The brief announcement would run in the paper two days hence, but Candace didn’t doubt that the news would travel across Mayfair much more quickly than that.

She thought of the betting book at the Black Raven and wondered who would make a winning on her failed engagement. But when she thought of the losers, she dismissed them out of hand.

For in this instance, who could count their losses as greater than hers?