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“Cecelia,” he began, his voice heavy with disappointment. Cecey winced internally but kept her expression blank. “Last night was all confusion and I admit I was extremely upset. However, I realize on reflection that I am not in possession of all the facts. Please recount to me how you came to be alone with Lord Kenrick Layne and how your gown came to be so grievously torn.”

Cecelia swallowed and took a breath to steady herself. She’d had time to reflect on what to tell Uncle and decided that at all costs she must conceal the identity of the man who had attacked her, or Uncle would try to force her to marry him. And she most emphatically did not want Lord Bidenden for a husband.

A fact she had discovered when he’d proposed to her last night under the tree and then had reinforced for her a hundredfold by his subsequent appalling behavior. Confronted with him on bended knees before her, declaring his heartfelt love for her, she had realized with blinding clarity that he wasn’t the one she wanted. His actions after that confirmed her instinctive response was the correct one. She knew that despite his protestations to the contrary, he had been motivated by mercenary considerations, not love for her. Marriage with Bidenden was absolutely the last thing she wanted.

“I had been dancing all evening and it being hot in the ballroom. I ventured out into the garden for some air—”

“Alone?”

“Y-yes.” It wasn’t true, she had gone out with Lord Bidenden, never dreaming he would propose and then, when she refused, try to take advantage of her as he had done.

“I thought it was Layne you were with?”

“Yes, but that was after.”

“After what?”

She took a breath and said, “I ventured farther into the gardens, for they were very pretty, and I confess I lost my way a little. A—gentleman—no, a man, for he was no gentleman, came across me and he—” She stopped and swallowed, a wash of shame flooding her as she thought about what Bidenden had done. “He engaged me in conversation. It was improper, for we hadn’t been introduced. In fact I never did learn his name—” She began to warm to her theme, embellishing the truth.

“Indeed, it was very imprudent of you!” Uncle Seb frowned at her.

She flushed and went on doggedly. “I know, and I am very sorry for it. But he seemed pleasant and engaging, if perhaps a trifle disguised?” She frowned in perplexity, as if she were unable to detect whether a man was drunk or not.

“Good God girl, have we not taught you better than that? To be alone with a gentleman in the dark—have you no sense?”

She swallowed, her throat tight. “I realize in retrospect that it was an ill-judged thing to have done, but I did not expect—” She stopped as her voice threatened to be overcome by a sudden rush of tears. She was shaking at having to recount what followed.

She took a breath and clutching her fingers tightly together she went on doggedly, “He tried to kiss me, and when I remonstrated, he—he became more forceful.” She swallowed again, closing her eyes, reliving the moment when she realized he was going to force her to . . . She took another breath and said, “In the scuffle he tore my gown, I—I screamed when I—he—” She stopped, her lips trembling. “I screamed again, and that was when Lord Kenrick Layne appeared. “He punched L—the man in the face, and he took me back to the room where—where Lady Cowper saw me.” There, she had got through it. Sort of.

“Am I to understand that Lord Kenrick saved you from this unknown assailant?”

“Yes.” She sniffed and wiped a stray tear off her cheek.

“Why did he vanish?”

“I—I don’t know. When Lady Cowper appeared he just—turned around and left through the garden windows.” Her throat ached from trying not to break down completely.

“Hmm. Well, the ton believes he is the one responsible for ruining you. And his actions in fleeing from the scene makes it even more likely that he is the guilty party—”

“But he isn’t! He saved me!” Cecey broke in.

“In the grand scheme, that is irrelevant, my dear. Perception is everything.” Uncle Seb sighed and tapped the desk with his fingers. “I will do what I can to rectify this, but in all truth, my dear, there is only one solution. We must get you married off as soon as possible.”

Cecey stared at him. She had been afraid of this, “Who?”

“That remains to be seen. I must try to uncover the identity of this man who attacked you, although if he is truly not a gentleman he may not be prepared to do the right thing—”

“No!” Panic skirled through her body. Cecey leaned forward putting her hands on the desk. “No, please. Don’t make me marry him!”

“My dear you should have thought of that before you ventured into the gardens alone and allowed yourself to be lured into conversation with a strange man! You must bear some responsibility for what transpired!”

“I was foolish! I will admit that. But I did not think he would do what he did! Please Uncle, I beg you—”

“Well, whoever he is, he has certainly shown himself to be a man lacking in honor. But then again, so has Layne. I shall not conceal from you that I am shocked by Layne’s behavior. I am well acquainted with his brother, the Duke of Troubridge, and I know him to be a man of the highest principles. I will seek an interview with him this afternoon and see what might be arranged.”

Cecey sagged, unsure how she felt about this suggestion. Lord Kenrick had made it plain that while he might have acted with chivalry in coming to her rescue, he didn’t desire to be held responsible for another man’s actions. And while she was angry with him for leaving her to face the consequences of her own folly alone, she had to acknowledge in all fairness that she could not blame him for that. She could and did blame Lord Bidenden. But she had no desire to be shackled to him and was glad that she had withheld his name from Uncle Seb. Her instinct that he would try to force her into marriage with Bidenden if he knew the truth was not unfounded.

Kenrick on the other hand . . . She had never forgotten that stolen kiss from a year ago and had often wished for a sequel. But there had never been an opportunity for a repeat, and she had concluded that he did not desire to kiss her again. A rather lowering prospect. His coming to her rescue in that fashion had raised her hopes only to have them dashed bitterly by his cowardly retreat, leaving her unsure what to think or feel.