“Would you two mind if I paid a visit to the butcher before we return to Fawkes House?” Eugenia asked, endeavoring to ignore the way her heart was melting at the sight of Lizzie tucked into her brother’s arms like a bird in its nest. “The shop is just across the square.”

Ward’s brow furrowed.

“Butchers and bakers are the heart of a village,” she explained. “After the saga of Mr. Biddle’s ‘borrowed’ gold chain, we need him to relay the message that Lizzie was merely fooling. In return, he will be first to know that the vicar is being dispatched to the Antipodes.”

“I don’t see the necessity,” Ward said. “I have important things to do.”

“It’s best to nip gossip in the bud,” she said, ignoring his comment and the heated gaze that told her what he considered important.

“Mrs. Snowe, do you really have to leave this afternoon?” Lizzie asked.

Ward answered her. “Luckily for us, Mrs. Snowe has kindly agreed to stay with us until we receive a new governess from her registry.”

Eugenia raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Reeve, is that an attempt to blackmail me into extending my stay?”

“Absolutely,” Ward replied.

“But you told the bishop that Mrs. Snowe was leaving directly,” Lizzie said to Ward, crinkling her brow.

“I didn’t want him to worry that Mrs. Snowe’s visit posed a threat to her reputation,” Ward explained.

Lizzie shook her head. “He wouldn’t have worried. Widows can do whatever they like. Lady Lisette said so, many times.”

Eugenia winced. Lord only knew what Lizzie’s mother had been doing during the year or so between her husband’s death and her own. She suspected that the children were privy to far more than they ought to have been.

Ward tightened his arm around his sister. “Our mother was no guide to proper behavior.”

“That’s what Miss Midge said,” Lizzie confided. “She said that Otis is a better parent to Jarvis, and I should follow his lead. Which is ridiculous, because no one carries a baby in a sack!”

Eugenia leaned forward and nodded at Ward. “If you and Lizzie will give me just five minutes, I’ll take care of the butcher and return directly.” She jumped down and closed the door behind her before the two of them could follow.

Biddle’s Meat was large and airy, as befitted a butcher who served as mayor and was in possession of a gold chain signifying his office.

It was also empty.

Ward’s groom gave the counter a sharp rap and bellowed, “Service!”

The sound of a scuffle was heard from the back and a man who resembled a tightly stuffed sausage appeared, a bloody cleaver in his hand.

Despite herself, Eugenia fell back a step.

“How can I help you, madam?” he said, laying the cleaver on the counter and giving her a toothy smile. “I’ve some excellent chickens, and I’m just butchering a cow of the finest quality.”

“My name is Mrs. Snowe,” she said. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment about the incident in which young Lord Darcy tried to hang your chain of office on a rosebush.”

His fat lower lip pushed out. “I don’t see as there’s anything to talk about. It caused me nothing but trouble.” He jerked his head toward an empty hook. “I put it away safe enough.”

“A man like you, the mayor of the village, holds great influence over his neighbors,” Eugenia said. “I am hoping that everyone in the village will understand that no theft was intended.”

A woman hurried from the back. “Robbie, what is—” She saw Eugenia, faltered, and bobbed a curtsy. “Ma’am.”

“Mrs. Biddle,” Eugenia said. “I am Mrs. Snowe, of Snowe’s Registry for Governesses in London. Mr. Reeve engaged me to find a governess for his wards. I was just explaining to your good husband that Miss Lizzie Darcy managed to convince a particularly naïve dairy maid that she knew a spell for revealing true love. One of your roses was an ingredient.”

The butcher gave a bark of laughter. “We all heard about the boy who thought himself invisible.”

His wife turned to him. “Mr. Biddle, why don’t you finish with that side of beef while I talk to Mrs. Snowe.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten the boy,” the butcher said heavily. “I lost me temper and that’s the truth.”

“As would anyone in those circumstances,” Eugenia said warmly.

He took up the cleaver and disappeared into the back, revealing who was the real mayor of the village.

“Mr. Reeve and I met with the bishop this morning,” Eugenia said with her best smile. “His Lordship believes Mr. Howson is better suited to being a missionary. In fact, he is sending him out of the country immediately.”

“Gracious heavens, that’s very good to hear,” Mrs. Biddle said. “I never liked him. He didn’t eat a bit of meat, can you imagine? Just cabbage, day and night.”

“That is certainly peculiar,” Eugenia said. “Miss Lizzie was merely being silly, Mrs. Biddle. She is dazzled by her ability to influence people.”

The butcher’s wife ventured a smile. “She and her veil are well known in these parts, Mrs. Snowe. I’m sorry Mr. Biddle lost his temper.”

“Having met Mr. Howson this morning, I believe I put the blame on the vicar,” Eugenia said.

Mrs. Biddle gave her a beseeching look. “Might you ask Mr. Reeve not to take away his custom? Mr. Biddle has always been one to fly off the handle, but he’s only a blusterer.”

A deep voice came from the door. “I’m happy to restore custom, Mrs. Biddle, as long as you promise to keep your husband in check.”

Eugenia whirled about with a gasp. “I didn’t realize you were there!”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Reeve,” the butcher’s wife said, bobbing a curtsy. “The village will be better off without the vicar, and everyone will thank you for it.”

“Mrs. Biddle,” Ward said, bowing. He took Eugenia’s arm, murmuring in her ear, “I thought you might need support, but I underestimated you.”

“Once again,” Eugenia said, with satisfaction.

They climbed into the carriage to the bellow of Ward’s laughter.