Page 63 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal (Love from London #3)

Candace took a deep breath and forged onward.

“The baroness was kind to me when no one else was. She held out a hand of friendship while all my other so-called friends were tearing my reputation to shreds with their perfectly polished nails. I learned who my true friends are, and I’m proud to say that the baroness and Miss Vera Ashbury are the very best friends I’ve ever had. ”

Daisy blinked, then stared. Finally she stood, mumbled something about getting punch, and turned away.

Candace wasn’t sure if any of her low, impassioned words had hit their mark. She hoped so. She’d long considered Daisy as a rival at best, but more often thought of her as a social enemy. Now she looked at her with kinder eyes. Wiser eyes. And what she saw made her grimace.

Candace partly saw herself, without the wise counsel she’d received. She saw herself six months ago. She’d been so concerned with what others thought that she couldn’t distinguish the importance of a true friend’s opinion from that of someone she happened to stand next to in a ballroom.

The baroness had been instrumental to the change Candace had experienced.

She was a trailblazer, a lady of substance and beauty who wore her wealth and title as casually as a scarf thrown around her neck.

She cared not a whit for what the likes of Daisy Knope thought of her.

She’d built a life she loved—a life worth living well.

The baroness had surrounded herself with intelligent, interesting individuals she cared about.

Vera was another piece of the change in Candace.

Her friend loved so completely, so unreservedly.

She was a faithful, loyal friend—the once-in-a-lifetime-if-one-was-lucky kind of friend.

Her example affected Candace—made her wonder who else in society she’d missed at the first glance.

Made her rethink who she herself was. Though Vera wasn’t titled, wasn’t wealthy, she was beyond all such measures of value in Candace’s eyes.

Then there was James.

James, whom she loved. Who’d seen her potential long before she’d believed it.

Who’d dreamed of better for her than marriage to Shelbourne, even when that was all Candace had allowed herself to want.

She shuddered at the memory of who she’d been only months ago.

She wished she could at least thank James for all he’d done, for how his belief in her had caused real change.

Even if he didn’t love her anymore.

Tears gathered along her lashes at the thought.

She lifted her eyes, glanced over her shoulder, and caught the gaze of the man himself.

When she hadn’t been paying attention, James had spread a cheery red blanket just behind her.

Candace wondered how long he’d been there.

She wondered if he’d overheard any of her speech to Daisy.

His face certainly wasn’t giving away any of his thoughts.

His expression was stark, his eyes burning with some emotion Candace couldn’t read.

She feared it was the same disappointment that had chased him from the awful dinner party.

Heat gathered in her cheeks at the thought and she turned to look at her twisted fingers.

But she couldn’t keep her eyes from him for long, not when he was so close, and she turned back. James opened his mouth to say something, and Candace leaned forward—in eagerness, or to better hear him, she didn’t know. A pastel-purple posterior suddenly blocked her view.

“Your Grace,” Miss Ritten said breathlessly. “You simply must come watch the races with us. They’re so delightful.”

There was no possible way Miss Ritten was unaware that she’d stepped between Candace and James—they were merely feet apart. The lady had done it on purpose, but Candace could no longer see James's face to see if he was as irritated by her presence as she was.

He said something to her in a low tone; Candace just caught the deep rumble of his voice, but not the words.

“I insist,” she said. “You’ll find it so diverting.”

James, of course, was left with only two options—acquiescing to a lady’s fervent request, or unforgivable rudeness. He chose as Candace knew he would—standing and gallantly offering Miss Ritten his arm, even while casting a glance at Candace that promised a future conversation.

Candace couldn’t help herself—she watched them slowly walk up the hill toward the games at the far side of the clearing. She couldn’t help but notice what a striking pair they made, Canterbury’s broad shoulders and dark hair, Miss Ritten’s lovely figure next to his.

She turned back toward the lake and watched the wind ruffle the surface. She had come so close to true happiness. She’d had it in her grasp for several days, which was what made this all the more painful .

A splash, a child’s strangled yell. Candace came to her feet; the cry had come from the dock.

Arthur .

She thought the worst for a moment, but then her eyes found his form standing at the end of the dock.

“Seamus!” Arthur yelled and threw himself into the water.

Candace was closest. She ran for the dock before she realized her legs were moving. One hand mindlessly tore at the bindings of her hat. It fluttered to the ground in her wake.

Candace didn’t need an explanation of what had happened—Seamus wasn’t buoyant, and Arthur loved him so much he’d probably drown trying to save him.

And last she’d seen, James had been all the way up the hill.

She didn’t know if he could get to the water before the worst happened; she didn’t know if he’d heard his son’s yell.

Her feet pounded down the wooden planks as ladies took up the cry on the shore. Candace reached the end of the dock. Below her, water churned into a tempest under the huge dog’s paws. Arthur tried to tug the dog up by the collar and slipped underneath the surface, gasping.

“James!” Candace yelled, even as she jumped in feet first.