But just in case she needed to hear it…
He gripped her shoulders and made his voice firm. “Know this. Whatever you’ve done, or whatever’s been done to you…” He waited for her to meet his gaze. “You are not ruined. Not ruined, soiled, cheapened, or made less in any way. If any man dares to tell you different, you point out the blackguard to me. I will ruin his evening and his face—in that order.”
That last promise of violence earned Harry a weak smile. But he still caught a self-conscious glimmer in her eye.
“What happened?” He guided her to sit under a nearby trellis, where a marble bench was wreathed and arched with vines. The cold, unyielding stone helped sober him. “You can tell me everything.”
She blinked hard and looked skyward. “It will sound so absurd when told aloud.”
“I have a particular fondness for absurdities.” He gave her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze.
“I was fourteen. And the vicar’s son—”
“The vicar’s son?” Harry’s stomach roiled.
“Yes. Timothy, he was called. A nice boy. Quite handsome. He had the most flawless skin. I envied it. Never a single freckle or spot.”
Harry pushed a hand through his hair. “God Almighty. It gets worse.”
“We’d grown up together, being of an age. We were friends, I thought. Then one day, I was called down to the library. This wasn’t unusual. I was always in one scrape or another. But on this day, I arrived to find my father and the vicar, both stern as anything. And there was poor Timothy, looking as though he’d lose his breakfast on the carpet. My father said…” She cleared her throat and mimicked a gruff voice. “‘Eliza, young Timothy here has been spreading a tale about you. I want to know if it’s the truth.’”
“He was spreading tales? This whey-faced vicar’s son?”
“Yes.” She sighed. “He’d been passing time with the grooms in our stables, and trying to impress them, I think. I imagine they all had their stories of groping farm girls in the haylofts, and he didn’t want to feel left out. Of course, I didn’t know at the time what sort of tale he’d been telling. I just knew that he was in trouble, and he was my friend. Whatever mischief he’d wrought, he would only catch more punishment if he’d lied. So I made a very sad, contrite face, and I told my father yes. Whatever Timothy said, it’s all true. And moreover, it was my idea.”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Oh, yes.” She buried her face in her hands.
“You let your father believe this Timothy twit had been groping you in the hayloft?”
“I believe it was the vestry, supposedly.” She dropped her hands to her lap and made a face. “Of all places. I’d never let a boy grope me in the vestry. That room always smelled of beef barley soup.”
Harry couldn’t hold back anymore. He laughed.
Oh, to imagine her at fourteen. So determined to be a loyal friend that she would unwittingly confess ruin at the hands of a cherub-faced vicar’s boy. He could imagine why her father would be angered and her sisters scandalized—but Harry wasn’t either of those things. He was amused. And rather proud.
“What a remarkable story.” He gazed at her with open admiration—until he caught himself counting her eyelashes and gave himself a little shake.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “On my honor.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “What honor?”
“I may not have much, but I have more than this mealy-mouthed Timothy did. Didn’t he ever own up to his lies?”
“He tried. And once I understood everything, I tried to recant my confession. But the damage was done. The tale was out, and the truth didn’t matter anymore. Something had to be done. Fortunately, we were far too young to be forced into marriage.”
“Fortunate indeed.” Eliza Cade, a vicar’s daughter-in-law? That would be a travesty. Perhaps even a sacrilege.
“My father sponsored the entire family as missionaries to Ceylon. They’re still there, I believe. Five years and counting. And as for me…” She shrugged. “My father said it didn’t matter whether I’d allowed the boy liberties or merely lied about it. I’d shown poor judgment and a complete disregard for propriety. He believed I’d surely ruin myself at the first opportunity, but he wouldn’t allow me to drag my sisters through the muck. So that’s why I have to wait until all three of them are settled before I can have my debut.”
Harry raised a brow. “Even now, years later? That’s unduly harsh.”
“Is it?” She glanced at their surroundings. “Perhaps my father was right. Look at me now. I’m here in a darkened garden, alone with an infamous rake.”
“Yes. You are.”
He let his arm brush hers, not-quite-by-accident. Her lashes fluttered, and she dropped her gaze to her lap.