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“There is a surprising number of tasks. Repairs to curtains and cushions. Mending livery, mobcaps, and other household attire. In theory, I worked in the kitchen, but I mostly did needlework for my entire tenure under Mrs. Harris, who had vast experience in such things.”

He drew a heavy breath. “Modiste.”

It sounded as if the blacksmith were trying the word out, feeling the shape of it on his tongue. Caroline’s eyes widened slightly at the way he spoke it, his tone careful and deliberate. She found herself studying the way his mouth moved around the syllables and then immediately scolded herself for the foolishness of it. That aspect of your life is dead and buried! she reminded herself firmly.

“I am William Jackson.”

Caroline stepped back in surprise.

The man was not just a blacksmith. He was the blacksmith, owner of the largest smithy in Chatternwell with numerous journeymen and apprentices in his employ. From what she had heard, he was an astute merchant who stocked an array of iron and steel tools, locks, and other mechanisms for purchase. Considering his accomplishments, he was rather humbly attired. Caroline supposed he might be in want of a wife to coax him into displaying his success.

She had gathered from her staff’s gossip that the smithy itself rivaled the best in Bath for its excellent work. Apparently, the man had set quite a few female hearts aflutter, but had shown no sign of interest. It was surprising to meet him and discover firsthand his lack of social finesse. It must have been his appearance and business acumen that had the women of Chatternwell so enthralled, not his fine manners.

“I need a gift for my neighbor, Mrs. Heeley. Something suitable for an old woman who does not get around much.”

Now that she was no longer being interrogated, Caroline found herself oddly charmed by the gruff tones of his deep voice. Mr. Jackson had a presence that was impossible to ignore, his steady manner almost reassuring. She was unused to such towering strength paired with such quietness, and it made her acutely aware of the difference in their statures. Goodness, he is rather compelling, she thought, catching herself before she stared too long.

“Of course. How about a pretty shawl to keep her warm in the winter months? We have just received a fine selection.” Caroline was proud of how even her voice sounded, even if it had taken a fraction too long to respond.

Mr. Jackson raised his massive shoulders in a shrug. He was a man of few words. Caroline smiled encouragingly and steered him toward the shawls, her hands brushing over the soft wool and cashmere with practiced ease.

Fifteen minutes later, his purchase made, it was almost a relief to watch him exit the shop. His presence had a way of filling the room, and she found herself letting out a breath she had not realized she was holding. There was a quiet strength about him, one that made the small space feel warmer, more substantial. And yet, she knew she would need to be careful. She must be a chaste woman after the painful lessons of her past. Nay, she would need to keep her distance from Mr. Jackson with his rugged handsomeness and steady gaze. She had a reputation to uphold in her adopted home, and she would not risk it for a passing fancy.

It had been easier when she was in service. Not only was there no time for relationships, but one was not permitted to marry, which had made her vow much simpler to keep.

The blacksmith was undeniably intriguing despite his gruff manner, and Caroline vowed to stay at her end of the street and leave Mr. Jackson to his.

Chapter 2

The Request

CHRISTMAS EVE, 1820

Annie finished fastening the last Christmas bough to the shop window. Turning around, she planted her small fists on her hips and declared, “There you are, Mrs. Brown! All dressed up for the holidays!”

Caroline clapped her hands and smiled in acknowledgment. She did not observe the holidays herself, but she had commissioned Mrs. Greer to prepare the boughs and sprigs for the shop as an excuse to offer her some coin. She could not deny the pleasure of the greenery’s fresh scent, which she would enjoy until Twelfth Night, when custom demanded it be taken down to avoid ill fortune.

Annie had filled out in the past weeks, and Mrs. Greer’s health was gradually improving, which made it all worthwhile. The child had proved a diligent worker—sweeping the shop, waxing the counters, and dusting the shelves with energy. She had even begun assisting with simple sewing, and Caroline had sent small projects home for Mrs. Greer to complete at her leisure.

Caroline suspected the widow’s ailments had stemmed, at least in part, from poor diet and worry. Now, with steady income and nourishing food, both mother and daughter were showing signs of recovery. Caroline might not be celebrating the holidays herself, but she was ensuring the Greers had the means to.

“Well done, Annie! It is very festive. Tell your mother she did a splendid job.”

“It smells so good!” Annie took a deep breath, clearly delighted by the scent of rosemary woven into the boughs, along with holly, ivy, and Christmas rose, as she had enthusiastically recited that morning.

Caroline grinned, taking an exaggerated sniff for Annie’s benefit. It smelled like a forest—clean and sharp and green.

“You have done excellent work, young lady. You should go assist your mother in preparing your Christmas feast for tomorrow.”

Annie’s smile dimmed. “Are you sure you will not come, Mrs. Brown?”

“Do not worry about me. I have work to complete. I plan to finish my walking dress over the next few days. When you return on Tuesday, I shall be able to show it to you.”

She had allowed herself to grow closer to the Greers than she had intended. Spending the holiday with them would only deepen that connection, and she could not afford further attachment.

“Now, come see your board for the week.”

She had been sending a basket of food home with Annie each week. Eggs and fresh vegetables to assist the girl and her mother with their health. She called it Annie’s board because the girl not living with her was not customary for apprentices. Truthfully the wages she paid were meant to be in lieu of the room and board she would have provided if she had had a home. Referring to the basket of food that Caroline purchased from the market each week as board was an excuse to discreetly take care of the Greers while preserving their pride. It did not cost her much, and she had minimal personal expenses to worry about, but it clearly made a difference for them.