Page 137 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“I’m over the moon with it. I really do love him.”

“I’m so glad.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Hortense broke away to open it to a parade of footmen, each bearing a full bucket.

Percy’s voice sounded down the hall. “Hurry up! My sister might even now be catching her death!”

“I’m very sorry about him,” Candace murmured. “He’s always been a bit high-strung.”

“Not at all, my lady,” one of them said solemnly as steam feathered from the water he poured into the bathing tub.

Within minutes, the tub was filled, the door closed and locked against her brother’s concern, and Candace slipped into the tub before the deliciously hot fire. Hortense kept two extra buckets close to the flames in case her lady became chilled, but Candace didn’t think there was any chance of it. She was exceedingly warm, and delectably comfortable.

“It was dreadfully romantic, him diving in after you like that,” Hortense sighed for the third time, pressing a hairbrush to her chest and batting her eyelashes.

“Romantic?” Candace scoffed to hide her true feelings. A small hope had unfurled in her heart like the most delicate tendril of growth. She dare not share it with anyone—it wasn’t yet strong enough to stand up to any external winds. “If that’s the way you see it, very well, but I swear that your engagement threatens to turn you downright sentimental.”

“He carried you,” she exclaimed. “Out of the water.”

“Like a sack of potatoes.”

It wasn’t true—not in the least, but Candace used the argument to beat back the dangerous dream that had taken root. The truth was, she wanted to believe it had been romantic, that maybe the events of the day had softened James toward her.

But hopes were dangerous little weeds with very sharp thorns. They were difficult—if not impossible—to extract from one’s own heart before someone else tore them painfully out.

“He saved you.”

“I was there, remember? Now come here and help me wash all this romance out of my hair.”

Hortense chuckled as if she knew what Candace was doing but would allow it, and helped her wash her hair.

CHAPTER 40- CANDACE

From Gardening for the Estate⁠—

A pathway through a garden is obviously practical; however, some garden designers miss the opportunity to make it beautiful, as well. A gentle curve in a path can beckon a visitor to walk further, while straight symmetry evokes a different feel. It behooves the gardener to choose the shape and width of a path purposefully, in order to elicit the intended response.

The next morning found Candace sitting around the house, waiting for James's promised visit. The anxious anticipation was driving Candace half to Bedlam. When Benson appeared in the doorway of the parlor where Candace was sitting, her heart leapt and raced at the sight of him.

“A package, my lady,” Benson said, then crossed the room to hand her the paper-wrapped parcel.

Candace frowned down at it. She knew exactly what it was, but she didn’t want to open it—not until she knew if she’d need it or never want to see it again.

Unfortunately, Percy and Adelaide walked in as she was staring down at Madame Aubert’s handwriting.

“What’s that?” Percy peered rudely over her shoulder to try to read the writing.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Perhaps later.”

“Is it anything that would interest me?” he pressed.

Candace wondered how it was possible he’d ever found a wife at all, let alone one as amazing as Adelaide.

“Please mind your own business. It’s just a dress.”