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Chapter One

Trees are nothing but a canopy for scandal

Elegant ladies remain indoors after dark

—A Treatise on the Most Exquisite of Ladies

We hear that leaves are not the only things falling in gardens

—The Scandal Sheet, October 1823

In retrospect, there were four actions Miss Juliana Fiori should have reconsidered that evening

First, she likely should have ignored the impulse to leave her sister-in-law’s autu, and far ardens of Ralston House

Second, she very likely should have hesitated when that sa the darkened paths that marked the exterior of her brother’s home

Third, she almost certainly should have returned to the house the moment she stu down, and spouting entirely ungentles

But, she definitely should not have hit him

It didn’t matter that he had pulled her close and breathed his hot, whiskey-laden breath upon her, or that his cold, h arch of one cheek, or that he suggested that she ht like it just as her mother had

Ladies did not hit people

At least, English ladies didn’t

She watched as the not-so-entleman howled in pain and yanked a handkerchief fro the pristine white linen with scarlet She froze, absent her

This was bound to get out It was bound to become an “issue”

It didn’t matter that he deserved it

What was she to have done? Allowed hi through the trees? Any ardens at this hour was certain to be less of a savior and more of the same

But she had just proven the gossips right

She’d never be one of them

Juliana looked up into the dark canopy of trees The rustle of leaves far overhead had only o promised her respite from the unpleasantness of the ball Now the sound taunted her—an echo of the whispers inside ballroohout London whenever she passed

“You hit ed

She lifted her throbbing hand and pushed a loose strand of hair back froet more of the same”

His eyes did not leave her as he aze was unmistakable

She knew that anger Knehat it meant

Braced herself for as co

It stung nonetheless

“You shall regret this” He took athat you begged ardens like the tart you are”

An ache began at her te her head “No,” she said, flinching at the thickness of her Italian accent—the one she had been working so hard to tame “They will not believe you”

The words sounded hollow even to her

Of course they would believe him

He read the thought and gave a bark of angry laughter “You can’t iitimate Tolerated only because your brother is a marquess You can’t believe he’d believe you You are, after all, your hter”

Your hter The words were a blow she could never escape No matter how hard she tried

She lifted her chin, squaring her shoulders “They will not believe you,” she repeated, willing her voice to remain steady, “because they will not believe I could possibly have wanted you, porco”

It took a lish, to hear the insult But when he did, the word pig hanging between thees, Grabehaers like sausages

He was shorter than she was, but he ers digging deep, pro to bruise, and Juliana atte and burning She hissed her pain and acted on instinct, thanking her ht from the boys on the Veronese riverfront

Her knee came up Made precise, vicious contact

Grabehah for escape

And Juliana did the only thing she could think of

She ran

Lifting the skirts of her shi clear of the light pouring out of the enor froht by the odious Grabeha speed She could hear hie, panting in great, heaving breaths

The sound spurred her on, and she burst through the side gate of the garden into the es waited in a long line for their lords and ladies to call for transport ho herself on the cobblestones, scoring the palht herself She cursed her decision to re inside the ballroo or not, kidskin would have saved her a few drops of blood that evening The iron gate swung shut behind her, and she hesitated for a fraction of a second, sure the noise would attract attention A quick glance found a collection of coachame of dice at the far end of the alleyway, unaware of or uninterested in her Looking back, she saw the great bulk of Grabehaate

He was a bull charging a red cape; she had ored

The carriages were her only hope

With a low, soothing whisper of Italian, she slipped beneath the reat black horses and crept quickly along the line of carriages She heard the gate screech open and bang shut, and she froze, listening for the telltale sound of predator approaching prey

It was i of her heart

Quietly, she opened the door to one of the great hulking vehi

cles and levered herself up and into the carriage without the aid of a stepping block She heard a tear as the fabric of her dress caught on a sharp edge and ignored the pang of disappointment as she yanked her skirts into the coach and reached for the door, closing it behind her as quietly as she could

Thegreen satin had been a gift from her brother—a nod to her hatred of the pale, prim frocks worn by the rest of the unmarried ladies of the ton And noas ruined

She sat stiffly on the floor just inside the carriage, knees pulled up to her chest, and let the blackness e her panicked breath to calh the e toplace

“Tego, tegis, tegit,” she barely whispered, the soothing cadence of the Latin focusing her thoughts “Tegiunt”

A faint shadow passed above, hiding the diht that e Juliana froze briefly before pressing back into the corner of the coach,her uncoht She waited, desperate, and when the barely there light returned, she sed and closed her eyes tightly, letting out a long, slow breath

In English, now

“I hide You hide She hides—”

She held her breath as severalfor the place and leave her, for once, in peace When the vehicle rocked under theinto his seat, she knew her prayers would go unanswered

So