Page 10 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

The truth was far less palatable, and to her knowledge, only two other individuals knew it—the Duke of Devonshire, and Shelbourne himself. Minutes passed, marked only by the slight rustle of silk as Candace shifted. She glanced at Vera and her gaze tripped over her friend’s dress.

“Oh, Vera. What has she dressed you in this time?”

Candace thought nothing could be as bad as the ensemble Vera had worn to the garden party, but this gown proved her wrong. It was brown and beige—two innocuous colors, when not patchworked in a dizzying arrangement. Candace had never seen anything like it—it appeared as if Vera had draped a cast-off rag quilt around her shoulders and attended the ball.

“It’s my mother’s finest work yet.” Vera nodded. “I could barely view my reflection without feeling dizzy. It’s no wonder you were the first person to speak to me this evening. Not that I blame them; conversing with this in proximity is enough to make one ill.” She waved a hand derisively at her outfit.

“You should look on the bright side—my fiasco with Shelbourne will give the gossips much more delicious fodder to devour than your terrible dress.”

“And perhaps my terrible dress will give them something else to speak of, when they wear the first subject out.”

The two friends shared a grim smile and a moment of near humor.

There was a brief knock at the door, and Shelbourne walked in. Candace’s eyes narrowed—was that Canterbury behind him in the hallway?

“I’ll give you a moment,” Vera murmured, slipping out and closing the door.

Now that Candace was face to face with him, all the questions and words in her mind slipped away like street children when a constable blew his whistle. Candace studied Shelbourne as she waited for him to speak.

His cheeks were more hollow than when they’d last met. On some men, it would have made them look dissolute, underfed, but on Shelbourne, it only served to highlight the stark lines of his cheekbones. His jacket and trousers were tailored to perfection along his slim lines—he’d always been particular about his dress; it was one of the reasons Candace had singled him out.

But Shelbourne’s face lacked the customary smile that he used to woo ladies and business partners alike. His blue eyes, usually crinkled at the corners as he cajoled and teased, were flat, lifeless. They stared at each other for moments that only served to stretch the tension between them.

When she finally realized he would not be the first to speak, Candace asked, “Why would you do that? Why haven’t you come to see me?”

He smirked cruelly and exhaled an incredulous laugh through his nose. Instead of answering any of her questions, he turned to the fireplace, braced one arm against it, and stared into the low-burning grate.

Candace came to her feet and hurried to his side. “Talk to me, Shelbourne. I certainly deserve something after the way you treated me in there.”

“You can’t possibly be this naive,” he snarled, finally turning to face her.

She took a tiny reflexive step back, her eyes wide.

His lip curled, his frame rigid. He was furious—furious with her. He didn’t let her retreat. Instead, he took hold of her bicep and leaned in.

His fingers dug into her upper arm, his teeth bared. “I thought we had an understanding, you and I.”

“What?”

She couldn’t think past the shock of it—had anyone ever touched her in such a manner? He was hurting her.

“I was off to Paris, keeping my distance. Giving you time to realize that we are not a match.”

“What?” Her mouth gaped in horror. It hadn’t crossed her mind that he’d been acting terrible all this time on purpose.

“It would have been better if you had called off the engagement. But you sent your white knight after me, and he dragged me back. You forced my hand, Candace.”

Shelbourne let her go and she staggered.

“You never meant to marry me.”

Her mind was working at half speed, slogging through a heavy mire of confusion to catch up.

He sneered. “Of course not.”

“Then why...?”

His laugh dripped derision. “With your brother and that duke of yours looming? What else could I do? I wanted a bit of sport in the gardens, not to be leg-shackled to the likes of you.”