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She wasn’t sure why she mentioned that tidbit. Maybe to reinforce the fact that he’d pursued her, not the reverse.

His countenance remained benign for a moment, then he turned his profile to her and sighed. He scratched his temple whilst looking at his robust garden.

“I regret I must retract my offer.”

He’d heard.

“I see.”

Could one perish from mortification?

He shook his head and finally met her eyes once more. His were full of compassion as well as accusation. “You see, I also learned you spent the night, unchaperoned, at Perygrim Park. After giving Lord Sterling a ride home. Also unchaperoned.”

“What you say is true, but—” A fit of coughing interrupted her protest.

“I’m sure you can appreciate that a man in my position, a shepherd to his flock, cannot take to wife a woman of questionable repute. Therefore, I’ve no choice but to withdraw my former proposal.”

Eden barely heard him. A fog descended over her mind, and she blinked several times to clear the haze floating before her.

So much for his declarations of love and adoration these past two years.

Withdraw my offer.

Her last option.

Except soiled dove or mistress.

A stunning young woman came around the corner of the rectory just then, holding each of his daughters’ hands in hers. Wearing a smart pink and rose gown, the matching spencer edged in cobalt braid that just so happened to match the confection atop her perfectly coiffed golden curls, and her wide, pretty eyes, she gave him a winsome smile.

The immediate light flaring in his eyes told Eden all she needed to know.

He was not a man heartbroken. Not at all.

“Ah, you ladies haven’t met yet.” He stood and waved the three closer. “Miss Lucy Taylor, this is Miss Eglantina Haverden.”

Had to use her given name, didn’t he?

Couldn’t even allow Eden a small degree of pride.

“Miss Eglantina, this is Lucy Taylor. Her father purchased the confectionary and mercantile last month, but she only arrived in town a fortnight ago.”

“Don’t forget the chocolate shop,” Miss Taylor reminded him with another upward turn of her perfect mouth whilst blinking her ridiculously full lashes.

New to town and from a wealthy family. She’d replaced Eden in the vicar’s attentions. Who’d choose a drooping dandelion when a lush rose was available for the plucking? He’d seized Eden’s current bumblebroth to extract himself from his declaration.

Seven-year-old Emma bounced on her toes and grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. “Lucy is going to be our new Mama, Miss Eden.”

Eden managed to find her way out of the church, coughing the whole while. Humiliation taunted her every step. Vicar Wright might’ve called her name. She couldn’t be sure. It took every bit of her determination to remain upright and keep moving forward.

Crumpling into a defeated, sobbing mass was not an option.

Not in Newbury, leastways.

So great was her chagrin, she’d never be able to set foot in St. Nicolas Priory again.

Waves of burning heat then icy coldness engulfed her, over and over. She needed to get home. To lie down. To think of a solution.

There is no solution.