Page 6 of Lady Waldrey’s Gardening Almanac for Cultivating Scandal

Candace winced. She did know, but she cared too much for her friend to repeat it. “It’s your mother with the horrid taste, not you.”

“It hardly matters. The result is the same.” Vera’s voice was as flat and listless as the unlined bow perched awkwardly on her posterior.

Today, her dress was a pale tan and a yellow that was nearly too timid to claim the moniker. It was a sallow, off-white kind of yellow that gave the impression of a neglected old sofa discolored by direct sunlight over many years.

“Please, let me buy you just one.” Candace threaded her fingers together in supplication.

“We’ve had this discussion a thousand times. It would be a waste of your money; Mother would never allow me to wear it. I wouldn’t put it past her to rip it to shreds the moment it crossed our threshold.”

“What if it never crosses your threshold?”

Vera’s eyes lit with a moment of interest, then she shook her head. “It isn’t worth the trouble I’d get into once Mother found out.”

“We could tell her that a terrible calamity befell your outfit and you had to borrow one of mine.”

Vera raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly down at her shorter, curvaceous figure, then at Candace’s tall, lithe one.

“All right,” Candace relented. “We could say it was a gown my cousin left behind when she visited from Scotland.”

“You have a cousin from Scotland?”

“Of course not, but it’s far enough away to make it plausible why I didn’t just return the gown. Imagine it, Vera: one night of dressing how you wish to.”

Her friend deserved that much. She was the kindest, cleverest young lady Candace knew, and that was a true compliment, as Candace was surrounded by many kind and clever ladies.

Vera’s eyes lit; her head tilted.

“That does it.” Candace clasped her elbow as if she might escape. “You’re getting measured today. I won’t hear no for an answer.”

Vera laughed and shook her arm free. “Has anyone called you ruthlessly stubborn?”

“They’d be foolish to do so within my hearing.”

Vera grinned and opened her mouth; Hortense pointedly cleared her throat.

“Ah, I thought that was you.” Daisy Knope stood in the doorway. Her lady’s maid, a grizzled woman worn well past her age—by constant nagging, no doubt—stood behind her as a staunch, beleaguered shadow.

Candace’s smile tightened like a drawstring purse. Vera drew closer to her shoulder—to offer or receive support, Candace couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Buzzards like Daisy were best faced in number.

“Good morning, Daisy.” Candace nodded. “What brings you to Madame Aubert’s?”

“Finishing the hem on my gown for the Balewicks’ ball. It’s going to be the social event of the season.” Daisy’s blink and the slow smile that followed put Candace on edge. “Of course, I don’t need to tell you that. You must be so very excited.”

Candace held her benign smile firmly in place while she racked her brain as to the significance in Daisy’s words. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand what the lady meant.

“Of course,” she said when the remaining silence dictated she should speak.

“Have you come to order a new gown to coordinate with what he’ll be wearing?”

He? Candace cast about for understanding. It wasn’t often she was adrift in a conversation; she found she hated the sensation. Her mind landed on her friend, the Duke of Canterbury. But why would Candace strive to match his waistcoat, when that was something couples did?

Thankfully, Daisy never met a silence she couldn’t fill. “I confess I was surprised when I heard the marquess had returned to London days ago. I wondered why you hadn’t announced it yourself—possibly with an outing together. But you do seem to be the model of ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ Doubtless you two are very fond of each other by now.”

With a final snakelike smile, Daisy turned and swept away. Candace waited until the bell trilled lightly at the exterior door, signaling her exit. She turned to Vera, her eyes wide.

“Maybe it’s not true,” Vera whispered.

For they both knew how it looked, Shelbourne returning to London and not calling upon Candace immediately.