Page 58 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

“Apologies,” Candace rushed to say. “I forget that not everyone here has been introduced. May I present?—”

“We all know her,” Daisy interrupted rudely. Even the Marquess frowned down at her. “It’s Vera Ashbury, the savior of all the discarded curtains in Mayfair.”

Candace pressed her lips together; her eyes flashed. “ As I was saying , allow me to introduce my very dear friend, Miss Vera Ashbury.”

The gentlemen in the room exchanged bows and pleasantries with Vera, who smiled and greeted them back. All the while, the Marquess still frowned down at Daisy. She finally noticed, looked up, and lifted a rebellious eyebrow in response. His frown deepened at her expression.

“Thank you all for coming this evening,” Candace said.

Miss Ritten smiled. “It’s so nice of you to have us. You’re right, Devon Manor has a kind of rustic charm.”

On the surface, the words were kind, but there was a lilt to the woman’s lips that dared Candace to believe any of it.

Candace turned to Lord Cavendish, who stood closest to her and Vera, as a footman began passing around glasses of sherry. “Are you enjoying the countryside, Lord Cavendish?”

“Very much. One forgets how clean country air smells when one is in the city.”

“It’s refreshing, indeed. I believe you came at a wonderful time for your sport. When Vera and I arrived, it still rained quite often.”

The man angled his head toward Vera, including her. “What of you, Miss Ashbury? Do you prefer the clean air of the countryside, or do you miss London?”

Candace barely heard her friend’s answer. Her attention was drawn to Miss Ritten, who’d neatly trapped James against the far bookcase. His expression resembled that of a cornered—albeit polite—animal.

“Excuse me,” she said into a pause of the conversation, then aimed her footsteps toward James.

Unfortunately, she had to pass Daisy on the way. The woman flung out a question like a sucking tentacle, and Candace had no choice but to acknowledge her.

“I believe the manor was built in the 1700’s,” Candace answered. “But I’m uncertain as to which specific year.”

Daisy’s eyes slid toward Miss Ritten and James in the corner, and Candace’s suspicions were confirmed—the woman didn’t want Candace interrupting her friend and her quarry.

“It’s quite as nice as Canterbury’s house,” the marquess said, glancing around the room. “A lovely country estate. Reminds me of my great room in Norfolk.”

“Do you spend much time there?” Candace asked politely.

“Not as much as I would like, but I plan on making it our permanent residence once we’re wed.”

Daisy’s head whipped toward him, her eyes wide.

The marquess didn’t notice, and Candace smiled. “When is the wedding to take place?”

“Three months hence.” He smiled. “My bride requires a shipment from France for her wedding gown.”

Daisy simpered at Candace. “I’m sure you remember the excitement that comes with being engaged.”

The marquess’ forehead wrinkled, but Candace smiled serenely. “Of course. I wish you all the happiness you deserve. If you’ll excuse me.”

She didn’t wait for approval, simply turned and walked away. Miss Ritten stood only a foot from James; his back was to the bookcase, and he couldn’t sidestep either direction without hitting her or the chair to his left.

“Miss Ritten,” Candace said. The lady turned with a slight scowl, and Candace continued, “Daisy was just asking for you.”

Of course the lady had no choice but to retreat, but she threw a longing glance over her shoulder as she went.

James gave Candace a grateful smile. “I don’t think I’ll be inviting this particular group of gentlemen to my estate again,” he murmured. “Not if that is the kind of lady who accompanies them.”

“Did you escape with your honor intact? ”

“‘Escape’ is the correct word, in this case. I was about to yell ‘Fire’ just to get her to move out of my way.”

“Desperate times require desperate measures. This entire dinner party was born from such a moment, and I regret it immensely.”

Candace glanced over her shoulder to see Daisy and Miss Ritten whispering furiously together before Miss Ritten scowled over at her.

“Come away from the furniture, James, before she trees you like a hound once more.”

Candace experienced a momentary relief when it was finally time to walk through to dinner.

Even though Miss Ritten claimed James's elbow with an alacrity that bordered upon desperation, at least the pre-dinner mingling was complete. Candace wasn’t fond of watching the single Miss chase James about the parlor as he did his best to disengage and escape her.

She took the gallantly offered arm of Lord Cavendish, who leaned in and murmured, “Be grateful—at least when the evening’s over, we have to take them with us.”

Candace smiled. “Of course I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’ve long suspected that Beaufort was in his cups when he proposed; this evening has only served to confirm it.”

She hid her laughter behind a glove and pretended not to notice the ladies claiming the seats on either side of James with a fervor that might have been appropriate if they were playing the parlor game of musical chairs.

Candace sat between Daisy and Lord Cavendish, with Vera on his other side. She supposed that she could survive one dinner at Daisy’s side, even though the lady stiffened when Lord Cavendish held out Candace’s chair.

The table was splendidly set. Maids had polished the crystal and silver before Mrs. Penn inspected each piece herself.

Now, candlelight from the candelabras shimmered and flicked over every shiny surface.

Low silver bowls held arrangements of artfully drooping tulips, ruffled roses, and large fig leaves.

As the footmen began to serve the first course, Candace thought that perhaps the splendid appearance of the dining room would be enough to silence Daisy.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Daisy said, a cruel smile upon her face. “We have the most diverting news.”

Candace’s hope curled in on itself and withered like a tendril of ivy thrown into a fire.

“Oh?” Miss Ritten said in a stiff manner that made Candace suspect this conversation had been rehearsed beforehand. “Do tell us!”

For some reason, Candace’s stomach clenched, as if it knew what approached before the words were even out of Daisy’s mouth.

“The Marquess of Shelbourne is engaged .” Daisy said the last word with titillated delight, her eyes firmly on Candace to drink in her reaction.

Candace, thankfully, had seen the blow coming and had already produced her stage-worthy, serene smile.

Of course, there was no way she could have predicted the precise news Daisy delivered, but she was intelligent enough to know that if Daisy was delighted, it was bound to come at someone’s expense .

James frowned, as did the marquess, but the ladies were too deep into their script to notice.

“That is delightful news,” Miss Ritten said. “After all he’s been through, he deserves happiness.”

The table as a whole disagreed about where to look.

The gentlemen, save for James, largely focused on the food upon their plates, as if it their fish had chosen that moment to reanimate and perform a dance.

The women were torn between staring unabashedly at Candace and looking to each other to see whose line it was next.

“Who is the lucky lady?” Miss Ritten asked.

“Miss Clark.” Daisy dropped all pretense and stared at Candace. “She’s the most beautiful young lady, newly arrived from America by way of France. I daresay no one can compare to Miss Clark’s charm.”

“Her family is supposed to be scandalously wealthy, too.”

Daisy affected a wistful sigh. “To be that beautiful and that rich—it isn’t fair. To be sure, Shelbourne couldn’t have done any better.”

Candace did her best to pay no attention to them—after all, they scarcely needed her input to continue—but her stomach sank with a queasiness that was harder to ignore than their words. This was what she’d come to Devon to avoid, but it had arrived on her doorstep all the same.

Across the table, James caught her eye and gave her a bolstering smile that threatened to crack her facade far more than the words designed for cruelty.

Perhaps it wouldn’t affect her so if there weren’t so many witnesses.

And Daisy and the other ladies had waited until they were seated to share the news, so there was no escaping.

On and on they went, through the first course and the second, leaving hardly any room for someone else to interject or change the topic.

Even when the gentlemen tried—valiantly—to turn the topic to hunting, the weather, or even unrest in foreign lands, the ladies at the table brought it right back to Shelbourne and his perfect bride-to-be.

James especially tried to steer the topic to other items of note, but the ladies were a well-oiled machine intent upon travelling their chosen track; they plastered anyone who stood in their way.

Miss Clark is the loveliest; no one can compare to her in beauty and style.

It’s said that Shelbourne cannot wait to marry her; the wedding is to take place within the month.

The conversation was a rubber ball that they threw back and forth to each other with all the swiftness and cruelty of keep-away. It was as if they had made a pact before dinner that they would be relentless with the topic, leaving no minute detail of the betrothal unexamined—and perhaps they had.

It might not have been so bad, except it felt as if every line was a dagger they’d sharpened especially for Candace’s heart.

They are to travel to Paris for their honeymoon. He longs to show her the city he spent so much time in this past year.

He purchased trunkfuls of Chantilly lace for her trousseau. Sent his steward to acquire it, since Shelbourne cannot bear to leave her side.