Page 20 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

“We are coming inside.” Hortense leaned forward, nearly baring her teeth. “Unless one of you plans on putting hands on a lady, we are coming inside right now.”

She jabbed the iron tip of her umbrella savagely into the top marble step; Candace wanted to glance down to see if it left the gouge she suspected.

The butler blinked; the footman was already slinking back into the shadows. “Of course. Right this way, my lady. I’ll...I’ll see if the master is at home.”

“He’ll see me,” Candace repeated. “Just tell him Lady Candace Waldrey is here to give him what he requested last night.”

The butler hurried away, eyes wide. Hortense plowed forward, leading the way into a sitting room. A fire was burning in the grate, so new it still smoked and hadn’t yet chased the morning chill from the space.

Hortense turned round to inspect all corners of the room, then frowned as if she found it lacking. A small thread of amusement surprised Candace. She sat on a leather divan and waited. Nearly a quarter of an hour later, the man of the house appeared in the doorway. He was barefoot, his shirt scandalously unbuttoned beneath a scarlet velvet dressing robe, and he looked as if he’d yanked on the pants he’d worn the night before.

Or perhaps he’d never taken them off and simply gone to bed that way. Even from halfway across the room, Candace could smell the sour scent of wine rolling from his person. He squinted, bleary-eyed, and shoved his overlong hair back from his face.

Hortense straightened to her full, impressive height and squeezed the umbrella in both hands until it creaked.

Shelbourne noticed her ire and chuffed a laugh on his way to the sideboard. “What? You think you’ll have your Amazon of a maid threaten me into behaving properly, is that it?”

“Not at all,” Candace said smoothly, completely unperturbed by his choice of greeting, his appearance, his complete lack of manners. These were nothing in the face of his other slights toward her. “I’m here to end our engagement, as requested.”

“A note would have sufficed.” He poured a couple inches of something brown into a glass and knocked it back. “I hardly think we have the type of relationship that requires a personal farewell.”

“I’m not here for a farewell. I’m certainly not here to try to keep you in this relationship.”

“Then why are you here, Candace?”

She smiled and stood. “I’m here to end our engagement, like I said. I’m also here to inform you that it would be inadvisable to preserve your reputation at the cost of mine.”

He laughed. “Threats?”

“Just the truth. People are going to ask questions, Shelbourne. I’m just recommending you give them an acceptable answer.”

“Which is what?”

“That I exited our engagement but we remain friends.”

“Friends? We were never friends.”

“I’m well aware.” Candace cocked her head. “Neither of us knew each other. Neither of us wanted each other. Like you said—you wanted a bit of sport. I wanted...I don’t know what I wanted, but it wasn’t this.”

Candace was lying—she knew exactly what she’d wanted from their engagement. Love. She’d wanted it so badly she’d started to see it where it wasn’t; she’d started to believe the lie of their relationship, as others had. She’d deluded herself into this pain—that was the stupidest part of it all.

“And if I don’t go along with your little story?” He smiled, but there was no kindness in it.

“Then I’ll have my friends ruin you.”

Across the room, Hortense shifted—Candace couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or disappointment, as she was too busy watching Shelbourne. He bared his teeth; Candace had the errant thought that if society could see him like this, as he truly was, he wouldn’t be so popular.

“Ruin me?” He chuckled, pouring himself another drink. “How would you propose to do that?”

“Wouldn’t you rather not find out?” Candace shook her head and sighed. “I didn’t come to threaten you, Shelbourne. Neither of us wants that. Let us part amicably—more amicably than we were betrothed.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t have to be this way.” Something in his face softened, and he stepped toward her until she had to fight the urge to reel back from his pungent breath—even two drinks of whiskey hadn’t chased it away. “We weren’t meant to marry, but there was something between us. Perhaps we should explore it further...”

He slid a hand down her cheek. Candace winced, shocked at the sudden contact and at the stench of him. The man smelled like a distillery worker who hadn’t bathed in six weeks.

Before Candace could respond, Hortense lunged forward, whacking Shelbourne on the shoulder with her umbrella. “How dare you!”

“Ow!” Shelbourne flinched, splashing whiskey down Candace’s front and onto the carpet.