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“Yes, I have errands to run and cannot be away from home too long. Mama’s not well, so I left before she awoke.”

Eden pulled her shawl firmer around her arms. The church was always cold inside. She supposed she’d get accustomed to that. She coughed into her handkerchief, fighting a wave of dizziness.

I cannot be sick.

“That cough sounds nasty, Miss Eden. You should be home in bed yourself.” Mrs. Bidwell turned her gray-haired head, asking over her shoulder as she led the way to the small terrace at the rear of the rectory. “Is the Vicar expecting you?”

A bit of censure there. She knew he wasn’t.

“No. I came about an urgent personal matter.”

That sent the housekeeper’s bristly eyebrows scurrying up her forehead. “Regarding your impending eviction, I presume?”

That halted Eden mid-step.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s hardly a secret, dear. Everyone in Newbury knows.”

No surprise really, but it still stung. Bitterly.

Either Simon or Lord Sterling had lost no time in spreading the news. If she had a crown to wager, she’d bet her brother had made certain her circumstances were made public. His lordship didn’t seem the gossipy type.

What else had Simon blathered about?

Pray God not her foolhardy decision to spend the night at Perygrim.

Why, oh why, was I so rash?

Come to think of it, that might be why no one would consider her for a position. She’d ventured too close to the edge of ruin, and in the townspeople’s view, she was a fallen woman.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Eden.

She’d destroyed everything on a feminine whim.

If only she’d never run into Lord Sterling.

“Vicar, Miss Eden is here to see you,” Mrs. Bidwell announced at the terrace doorway.

Vicar Wright, a straw hat on his sandy brown hair, looked up from the row he’d been hoeing and gave a welcoming smile.

He really was an attractive man.

Even if he’d been as ugly as a hog, and as rotund and smelly as one as well, Eden would’ve accepted his offer.

“This is an unexpected surprise.” He braced the hoe against the vicarage. “Mrs. Bidwell, we’ll take tea on the terrace here, please.”

He indicated a quaint wrought iron table and chairs beneath an arbor covered with small white roses.

“If you’ve any of yesterday’s delicious Bara Brith bread, I’m sure Miss Eden would enjoy a slice or two.”

If her nervous stomach wasn’t so wobbly, she might’ve. Bara Brith was a favorite indulgence, and only rarely did she have the opportunity to enjoy the treat.

A hint of disapproval tightening her mouth, Mrs. Bidwell nodded. “Of course, Vicar.”

Eden commanded her nerves into submission and summoned a warm smile before coughing again.

“Pardon me.”