Page 122 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

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.