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“No, ma’am. He took the day to travel to Bath. Said something about visiting someone for Saint Stephen’s Day.”

A man near the forge turned and guffawed. “More like gone a-courting, dressed in his Sunday finest!”

Laughter rippled across the smithy, men making jest of the blacksmith being sweet on someone in Bath.

Caroline stood motionless. Gone to Bath? Visiting another woman?

All she could think of was how unbearably inconvenient it was to realize she loved William at the precise moment she learned she might have lost him. Her heart squeezed painfully. Fighting tears, she willed her voice to remain steady.

“I was speaking with him about … repairing a lock. I will return tomorrow.”

She swept out before the apprentice could respond. Turning back onto Market Street, she passed her shop without pause. Her feet carried her without instruction, her thoughts in chaos. She had lost her chance. He had offered her everything—his name, his loyalty, his heart—and she had refused him. And now? Gone to Bath, they said. Courting another, perhaps.

The wind whipped past the shopfronts, cold and punishing. She wrapped her arms around her middle, bracing against the ache in her chest. Perhaps the men had misunderstood. William had not struck her as fickle. But now she had no way of knowing when he might return—or whether she would still be in his heart when he did.

She had been foolish to let herself believe in connection. Foolish to break the vow that had preserved her peace. Connections could be lost. And when they were, one was left only with the ashes of regret.

Work is the answer.

Chapter 10

The Reconciliation

THE FIFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

She had not caught a glimpse of the blacksmith in several days, but there he was, across the street, entering the post office. If she hurried out there, she could catch him on his way out and determine once and for all if she had lost her opportunity.

Over the past three days, since visiting the smithy and learning he was gone to Bath, Caroline had worked under a shroud of turmoil. One moment she was committed to working, the next she was wondering, what if?

What if William was not courting another woman?

What if this was a misunderstanding, and his offer to wed was still valid?

What if they could form a wonderful union, two successful proprietors united in a partnership? Assist each other in realizing their respective dreams?

For the first time in days, she might have an opportunity to find out where matters stood.

“I think perhaps I would like to see the blue silk again.”

“Miss Jolie, Lady Jolie, would you mind if my apprentice assisted you for just a moment? I see someone I must converse with, but I will be right back.”

The young woman and her mother nodded, still fingering the fabrics they were inspecting. Caroline brought out the silk they had requested while calling for Annie, keeping a nervous eye out for William to ensure she did not miss him, before hurrying out the front door.

Crossing the street, she stopped outside the post office, fidgeting with her gown while she tried to decide if she should follow him in. Leaving her shop without a cloak had been ill-advised—she was quickly growing cold in the winter air, but if she entered, they could hardly speak of anything meaningful.

Just as she raised her hand to enter, she saw William approaching from the other side of the door and stepped back to allow him to exit. He caught sight of her through the glass panes and appeared to hesitate for a moment, as if he were preparing himself before he opened the door and strode out.

“Mrs. Brown, season’s greetings.” His words were polite, but the intonation was flat, as if he were parroting appropriate behavior.

Caroline gave a slight curtsy in greeting. “Mr. Jackson, I … wanted to discuss that lock.” She glanced restlessly toward the two women passing behind him. William stared over her shoulder, refusing to meet her eyes.

Realizing William would not look at her, Caroline’s heart sank. So it was true. William had moved on after her rejection. He had found someone who would appreciate him—something she had failed to do.

“However, it is not urgent. I shall visit you at the smithy when I have time.” She stepped back, her hopes and what-ifs finally dashed to pieces like the waves hitting rocks in the seascape over his mantel. Which she would never see again—not these holidays or the next.

William put out a hand as if to stay her. “Mrs. Brown, I—” He stopped, his eyes focused on a point over her shoulder. It was clear he had been about to say something, but now he stood taciturn, even unnerved. Behind her, she could hear the rumble of wheels. “—I must go!”

With that, he abruptly turned to storm down the street. Caroline was left to watch his retreating form until she was distracted by how loud the approaching vehicle was.