Page 59 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

Did you hear the romance of their engagement? He sent her a bouquet every hour they were apart—the poor butler got no sleep at all—then delivered the last of the twenty-four arrangements himself and got down on both knees to beg for her hand!

He bought her an enormous diamond. It couldn’t be more perfect for her.

Surely their romance eclipses everything that came before.

Candace ate course after course, hardly tasting anything, though she was sure it was delicious.

For their part, the footmen seemed to have realized what was happening and must have reported it to the cook and Mrs. Penn, as the courses were served with nearly the relentless speed as the ladies’ comments.

At one point, Candace was certain that Miss Ritten had missed her fourth course altogether; the footman whisked her plate away before her fork touched her plate.

It should have bolstered her—that show of support from her staff. But Candace kept having to swallow sickness at the back of her throat. Her stomach pitched with dismay at every new barb. Embarrassment burned her cheeks, and even her stage smile wavered.

Her current understanding with James was the happiest she’d ever been, and to have him witness her past trotted out for others’ amusement was particularly painful. No one knew they were courting; the ladies had no way of knowing they were rubbing salt in James's wound as much as hers.

She’d wanted to forget the entire thing with Shelbourne. It was a disaster from beginning to end, and she’d mostly succeeded in putting it behind her.

This dinner was a jolting reminder that society would never forget. They’d chosen his side, lined up on the battlefield as surely as any regiment, and made their charge—against her.

Madame Aubert is to design the gown—the most beautiful she’s ever done, they say.

They’ll be married at St. Paul’s Cathedral, with all their friends and family in attendance. What a wonderful show of support—after all, he’s had such a difficult year.

It’s rumored he’s already commissioned a shared grave marker for them, as he wishes to remain close to her, even in death...

By the time the ladies had picked the bones of the conversation clean—as well as cracking them open and sucking out the very marrow—Candace felt as if she were the carcass they’d feasted upon.

When there were no more possible details to pore over, it was already the sixth course. The ladies looked at each other with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, as if hoping one of them would come up with an idea to continue.

“I believe the Baroness Winthrop was invited, but she couldn’t make it tonight,” Vera said to cover up the awkward silence. “Her son was ill, and she needed to tend to him.”

“Isn’t that what nursemaids are for?” Miss Ritten scoffed, even as she lifted her glass in silent demand to the footman.

Candace breathed a silent sigh of relief that they’d moved on to a different topic. She swallowed deeply and tried to calm her racing heart. The last hour felt as if she’d balanced on a taut wire as hundreds in attendance watched and waited to see if she’d fall.

“She’s a very conscientious mother,” Vera said.

“I’ve heard she’s an odd kind of character,” Daisy said. “Rumor has it, she’s very strange.”

“Indeed,” Miss Ritten said, leaning forward with a predatory smile. “I’ve heard she wears trousers.”

“Candace, you must have met the woman if you know her well enough to invite her to dine with us this evening. Tell us, are the rumors true?”

There was half a moment where Candace considered demurring, denying, or otherwise steering the conversation away.

But she was exhausted and embarrassed, and they hadn’t even served the final course.

She’d been looking for an escape from the conversational inferno this dinner party had turned into, and through the smoke and the flames, she glimpsed an out.

“It’s true,” she said, even as her stomach clenched within her. “She wears trousers.”

“Quite fashionable ones, though,” Vera added quickly.

“She always looks amazing,” Candace agreed. “Then again, she’s a striking woman.”

“No wonder she’s striking, if she’s wearing pants.”

Daisy tittered and Miss Ritten joined in.

“What else can you tell us of her?”

“She’s an excellent neighbor,” Candace said, cowed by the riot in her gut. “Very kind, compassionate. She loves animals.”

“Indeed,” Daisy said. “Now, the London gossip has been quite delicious as of late. But I suppose you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Candace? Attention is its own reward—I suppose you still get the papers and enjoy the recognition, even all the way out here.”

“Yes, do change the subject back to more interesting things. Ugh, I swear there is nothing as boring as country people,” Miss Ritten said stoutly. “If the most shocking thing that happens here is some old lady wearing pants about her estate, that would only figure.”

Candace lifted a shoulder and hoped it looked casual instead of defensive. “If you say so. Then again, the first time I met the baroness, she tracked mud in on the carpet and deposited her rifle into the umbrella stand.”

“Did she really? A rifle? Of all the things!”

Candace couldn’t force herself to lift her eyes above her wineglass. She was ashamed of the words she said, even as she spoke them. “And she doesn’t just wear pants in her house. She wears them everywhere .”

“Truly?” Daisy raised her eyebrows, looking interested despite herself. “I’ve also heard she keeps a nip of chew in her bottom lip.”

Candace nodded and forced herself to laugh along with them. She felt sick.

“It might also interest you to know that she also shares her home with animals,” Candace heard herself say. It was as if now she’d started, she couldn’t make herself stop. “She has a maid clean up the droppings in her parlor.”

The ladies dissolved into shrieks of disbelief and laughter.

James's chair barked a warning as he slid abruptly back from the table. “If you’ll all excuse me, I must retire for the evening.”

“We haven’t had dessert yet,” Miss Ritten argued .

“Oh, thank you. I’ve had my fill.” His eyes met Candace’s meaningfully.

“I’ll see you out, James.” She was suddenly desperate to speak with him, to explain.

“No need.”

He bowed at the dinner table and was out the door before she could come to terms with him going.

“Of all the...I would never speak ill of one such as he, but that was strange, very strange, indeed,” Mrs. Knope began.

The sickness in her stomach grew; a sourness rose in the back of her throat. What had she done? She was on her feet the next instance. She must go to him; she must apologize.

“Where are you going?” Daisy snapped.

Candace hesitated for a half-second. She knew what would happen if she were to leave the table. It was an unforgivable sin to be rude to one’s guests. And yet—the look on James's face when he’d met her eyes. It was reproach, and she felt the deservedness keenly.

“Excuse me, one moment,” she said, then fled the room.

Little gasps erupted in her wake; she heard Vera say something but couldn’t make out the words.

James had already quit the hall. She gripped her velvet skirts and ran for the front door. Benson’s eyes went wide as she passed.

“Is everything all right, my lady?”

But she yanked the door open and threw herself into the night. James was there, pulling on his riding gloves, his hat already upon his head .

“James, don’t go. I’m sorry.”

“For what, precisely?” His dark eyes flashed. “Do you even know?”

“I am sorry. I...it’s so easy to get swept up in the conversation, to speak without thinking.”

“That I do believe. What they were doing in there was wrong, but you shouldn’t have stooped to their awful level. If that was a competition to see who could be worse, I don’t know who won.”

She jerked back. “That was unkind.”

“That was honest . What you did in there— that was unkind. The baroness has been nothing but good to you. Sure, she’s a different sort of person. But she visited nearly every day when you were low and needing fresh company. I thought you and she had developed a friendship.”

“We had. We have .”

“That was not friendship, Candace.” He jabbed his finger back toward the house with every word. “That was cheap humor at her expense. For people you don’t even like . Why did you even invite them over? Why were you trying to impress them? What were you trying to prove ?”

Her eyes stung; her chin wobbled. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

He turned from her. The muscles in his jaw worked as he looked out across the moonlit field. Several aching moments passed between them. Candace opened her mouth to fill them, but she didn’t know what to say, so she closed it once more.

He spoke lowly, “I know what they were doing, but that is who they are—mean, cruel. It should come as no surprise when they behave as such toward someone they don’t call a friend. And that’s the difference here. I cannot and will not defend them, but they weren’t cruel to a friend. You were.”

Candace couldn’t speak; she swallowed convulsively.

“I’ve never been disappointed in you before tonight,” he said. “I have never previously been embarrassed of your actions.”

She felt as though he’d just run her through with a sword. Certainly it couldn’t have been any more painful.

He continued, “I thought perhaps your experience with Shelbourne would’ve tempered your desire to be seen in a certain light, your need to be liked, to fit in no matter what. Now I wonder whether those traits are fixed within you.”

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe .

Candace pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart pounding.

The stable boy brought forth the horse, his head lowered.

Candace still couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

Certainly not well enough to respond to those few sentences that had sunk her into utter desolation.

She’d read hundreds of books. Had the letters in the English alphabet ever been arranged so painfully? She thought not.

“James, please,” she said. “I was...shocked by the announcement of Shelbourne’s engagement, embarrassed by their conversation. It’s no excuse, but it’s the truth.”

“Of course he’s getting married, Candace. Probably to the first wealthy young miss he could find. I’ve been systematically ruining him these past weeks.”

“What?”

“He’s destitute. Worse than.” He slashed his hand through the air. “This Miss Clark is no more than numbers on a ledger sheet to him, I guarantee it. I’ve half a mind to write her father a note and alert him to the fortune-seeker who’s captured his daughter’s attention.”

“You’ve been doing that? Why?”

“For hurting you.” His forehead wrinkled as if he couldn’t believe she’d need to ask the question.

“I’m sorry, James. Truly I am.”

He turned to his horse, shook his head. The corner of his jaw feathered as he gritted his teeth. Finally, he turned back. “I’m jealous , Candace. Don’t you see? I need to know—your reaction tonight—is that because you still care for the man?”

She reared back. “Of course not.”

“Then why would news of his betrothal affect you so? If you don’t still harbor tender feelings for him, why do you care what those awful women say?”

“Because...because I’m embarrassed. By the whole thing. What they’re saying about me...”

“Who cares what those harpies say? They’re smaller than you, less than you. Their opinions shouldn’t bait you into saying something cruel about a friend just to remove their attention from you to her.”

“You’re right.” Another tear slipped down her cheek.

“How can I seriously court someone whom I would be upset for my son to emulate?” His eyebrows drew together as if in pain; he shook his head. “I apologize; I need to think. Right now, I cannot see clearly. I’m too angry to speak prudently.”

“James, I’m sorry . Please, just...”

Even she could hear the tears quavering in her voice, the storm in the air that had not fully landed. He paused in mounting his horse but didn’t turn to her. When no more words were forthcoming, he gracefully sat astride, put his heels to his gelding, and was gone.

Candace gulped air. She was alone—the stable boy had fled the awkward scene as soon as he’d relinquished the horse. She dropped, the hard pebbles of the driveway digging into her knees through velvet. A sob racked her frame, her fingers curled into the gravel.

James was right. What he said wouldn’t have hurt so badly, otherwise.

Every syllable of every word he’d spoken was true.

If she were being honest with herself, she’d felt the guilt before he’d said anything.

But hearing those words from his mouth..

. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as her stomach clenched.

The sounds of the night came back to her—the singing of the crickets, the wind ruffling the leaves in the trees. Candace staggered to her feet and looked at the house. All her guests were still at the table, most likely spooning chocolate soufflé into their cackling mouths.

She shouldn’t have invited them. She wished she could take back the entire evening. She certainly wasn’t going back inside, not now.

The door opened even as she stared at it, wondering what to do.

“Lady Candace?” Benson said. “Are you quite all right? Would you like me to fetch the doctor?”

“That won’t be necessary. Will you please get discreet word to Vera that I’m not feeling well and have retired for the evening?”

“Very well, my lady. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Not at present. I’m going to enjoy the air in the gardens. I’ll be in shortly.”

After those people are gone. She didn’t say it but thought he might have heard it anyway.

“Very well, my lady.”

The heavy click of the door closing left her blessedly alone once more.

She didn’t know when the tears had started, but they rained freely down her face, dripping from the tip of her nose and chin as if she were a statue in a storm.

She lurched to the gate set into the stone wall that separated the gardens from the drive and fled into the greenery.