Page 16 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

As far as lady’s maids went, Hortense was worth her weight in gold, and Candace loathed the day when a young man caught her eye and lured her away into marriage. Candace was already determined to hire the man in question, just to keep Hortense in her employ.

She had no doubt that Hortense would be of great help to Mrs. Penn in setting up both her and Vera’s bedrooms. As Candace’s friend and supporter in this difficult time, Vera had been taken under Hortense’s strong and capable wing.

Vera stood at the window, unruly pieces of ash-brown hair escaping from her chignon and catching the beautiful light—a halo surrounding her pretty features.

Not for the first time, Candace admired her friend’s appearance, though the drab tan-and grey plaid travelling outfit sought to wash out her coloring and nauseate the observer with its busy hash-mark pattern.

Candace’s eyes narrowed. Vera was such a good friend, such a kind person. She’d uprooted her life and accompanied Candace at a moment’s calamity; such devotion should be rewarded. Candace’s lips turned upward as sudden inspiration descended.

“It’s a lovely house.” Vera examined the thick plaster of the ceiling and the handsome brass chandeliers.

“We’ve seen one room.” Candace’s lip twitched in amusement.

“ And the hall.” Vera arched an eyebrow.

“If you’re determined to find it lovely, I certainly won’t stop you.” She relaxed against the thick cushions—a decidedly unladylike posture—and exhaled in relief.

“I hope you find it every bit as charming as I do. Perhaps then we’ll never have to leave.” There was a flash of vulnerable hope in Vera’s eyes.

“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?”

The baroness grinned. “I’d shoot them.”

Candance didn’t quite know if she was joking.

“Pardon me for asking, but how far away do you live?” Vera asked. “Candace says that the manor’s grounds are quite extensive.”

“No pardons needed for questions with me, ever.” The baroness laughed, patted her jacket pockets, and came up with a silver flask, tipping a healthy pour into her tea.

“I very much doubt you could shock me if you actively tried. My estate—or rather, my absent son’s estate—shares a border with Devon Manor for hundreds of acres.

However, upon his last visit, your brother offered me personal hunting rights to sweeten the deal for some lumber he needed to fix up this hulking house.

” She looked toward the ceiling as if she could see all the way to the roof.

“The new slate looks wonderful; he used a tradesman of my recommendation—you’ll be perfectly dry all winter. I don’t suppose either of you hunt?”

“Er, no,” Candace said. “I enjoy riding, though. Vera?”

“I’m a passable rider, but haven’t much practice. Mother thinks it’s unladylike.”

I thought she didn’t like horses. Candace frowned.

“Nonsense. We’ll go riding as soon as you’re rested. Perhaps next week? I’d love to show you the property—both your brother’s and mine. By the by, when does your brother return from his honeymoon?”

“I’m not sure.”

The baroness nodded. “Most likely not for awhile. When he was here, I met him many times. Every day it was as if someone was tightening him like a screw. He just kept becoming more and more tense. I knew it had to be about a woman—he had that frenetic, anxious energy about him of a man who hadn’t settled something that desperately needed settling.

They’ll be gone for months, mark my word; they’ll probably extend their trip. ”

The baroness sipped her spiked tea as Candace fought to control her expression and Vera rolled her lips inside her mouth.

Such things were rarely spoken of so directly.

More often, ladies would sidle up to the topic with a fluttering of eyelashes and knowing smiles—and even those conversations were kept out of earshot of unmarried ladies. Mostly.

“Do you like your new sister-by-law?” the baroness asked, plowing forward with questions that usually weren’t asked.

“Very much.” Candace was relieved she could answer honestly in such a way. “She’s his match in every way—kind, compassionate, with an excellent head on her shoulders.”

“High praise, indeed. I’m always suspicious when compliments of a young lady extend only to her appearance rather than her character.

” She gave a sly smile that sent the corners of her dark-brown eyes crinkling.

“You mentioned the Quentin Daily ; have you also heard of Mr. Pickwick’s Guide ?

I don’t suppose you’ve brought any issues with you—it’s the one thing I can’t procure easily this far from London. ”

In fact, Candace had packed her copies of Mr. Pickwick’s Guide to Marriageable Young Ladies , which ironically now wrote reviews on unmarried men, as well.

“I have the latest copies. You’re welcome to borrow any you like. However, they aren’t coming out at quite the same regularity as they used to.”

The baroness nodded decisively. “As I thought. She must be happily settled now.”

“ She ?” Candace couldn’t help her mouth gaping open—which for her, was nearly a visible gap. She snapped it closed.