Page 136 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Behind him, Adelaide gave a sigh—half amusement, half weariness.

Percy turned to his wife with a frown. “You had a dowry fit for a princess; you could have gone elsewhere.”

Adelaide laughed. “No, I couldn’t, you big brute. Not from the moment you walked in the door of Bainbridge, your shirt plastered to your great chest.”

Candace made a wordless sound of sisterly disgust, which only served to draw Percy’s attention back to her. “Arthur is Canterbury’s son, but who on earth is Seamus?”

“His, er...playmate.”

His forehead crinkled in concern. “Are they both unharmed?”

She nodded. “I retrieved Arthur. James retrieved me, and the other gentlemen got Seamus.”

“James?” Percy’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. “Oh, it’s James now, is it?”

“Don’t let him pretend he’s shocked,” Adelaide called from the sofa. “We got your letter in London, which is why we raced here pell-mell.”

“I conveyed you in all possible comfort, my dear.”

“Tell that to my backside,” she grumbled.

“Perhaps later.”

“Ugh!” Candace whirled and strode toward the door, her self-righteous departure somewhat marred by her single squelching boot.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Percy said. “We have much to discuss!”

“I’m off to bathe before I catch my death from chill, or a strange disease from lake water. We can discuss it later,” she called over her shoulder.

But if Candace had hoped to forget about the episode in the lake in her bedroom, she was sorely mistaken.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Hortense said, bustling in several moments later. “I couldn’t get near the wagon, there was such a crush. I had to walk back.”

“You should have stayed.”

Candace sat at her dressing mirror. She pulled another pin from her tangled hair and winced.

“I’ve already bullied those footmen into bringing water for a bath.” Hortense nearly slapped her hands away from the nest of red strands and began gently extracting the pins. “They should be coming any moment. Thank goodness Mrs. Davis always has water warmed and ready.”

Candace sighed in gratitude. She was chilled—even though someone had beat her into the room and stoked the fire to near roaring. Mrs. Penn would be gratified to hear that her high standards lingered, even when she wasn’t physically in the house.

“I didn’t see you jump in, but I certainly heard about it,” Hortense said. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of Arthur, and that foolish dog of his.”

“You love him.”

“I don’t know,” Candace teased, wrinkling her nose. “He’s so very hairy.”

“Joking at a moment like this.” Hortense tsked and shook her head.

Candace met her gaze in the mirror. “I couldn’t let the dog drown. It would break Arthur’s heart—” She blinked. “Hortense, what’s that on your hand?”

Her maid grinned at her; Candace whirled and grabbed her fingers to get a better look. “Hortense, are you—did you get engaged?”

She beamed. “That’s why I didn’t see you jump in. Thomas had the footmen clear everyone from the garden folly so we could be there alone. He again asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Candace rose and threw her arms around her. “I’m so happy for you.” She set her back by the shoulders. “You are happy, right?”