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The modiste brightened up, mercurial in her shift of mood. “I made it from green velvet and cut up my grandmother’s coat to create this fur trimming.” She turned the lapel to show him the pale pelt that framed the velvet.

“And what of the sleeves?” he asked, eyebrows raised. The utterly impractical sleeves that could not possibly assist with the retention of heat on a cold winter night!

Mrs. Brown held up one of her arms to display the deep fall. “I saw something like it in a woodcutting of a woman in a medieval gown. It appealed to my romantic side.”

“Let me see it, then.”

She twirled, her skirts flaring slightly as she spun. Despite how impractical the garment was, William had to admit—if only to himself—that she looked enchanting in the dark green velvet and pale fur with the wide hood framing her face. The firelight flickered, catching the softness of the fur and the rich sheen of the velvet, lending her an almost ethereal glow.

Mrs. Brown was a personification of Christmas, all warmth and bright cheerfulness in the midst of winter’s chill. When she came to a stop, his gaze, unbidden, drifted to her mouth—the gentle curve of her lips that had lingered in his thoughts far longer than was sensible. Despite his discomfort, he imagined standing up to take her hands and draw her close, to hold her and simply bask in the lightness she seemed to carry with her. He shook the thought away immediately. Preposterous!

Mrs. Brown frowned, apparently noticing something odd about his expression. “Mr. Jackson, I must insist you lie back down and rest as the doctor instructed.”

With a long sigh, he shifted and settled back against the settee’s arm, stretching out his legs once more. He would never state it aloud, but it was gratifying to raise his leg, which diminished the persistent throbbing.

“Your cloak is lovely,” he admitted roughly. “But, Mrs. Brown, I need your assurance that you would not venture out into a cold snap with such a garment. You would be chilled to the bone with such gaping cuffs.”

Mrs. Brown chuckled softly, the sound gentle and sincere. “I work all the time, and then race home to my rooms. There is no possibility of my freezing out in the cold.”

“Nevertheless, Mrs. Brown⁠—”

“If we are to spend Christmas together, perhaps it would be easier to call me Caroline?”

William’s breath caught, and he stared at her, unblinking, for the span of a moment before he remembered to take air.

Caroline.

It was wonderfully fitting for such an exquisite and accomplished woman. The name suited her, bright and warm, with a touch of elegance.

After several seconds of silence, he realized Mrs. Br—Caroline was gazing at him expectantly.

“You may call me William.”

This was going to be a very long night. Caroline’s presence filled the room with an unexpected warmth, and he found himself oddly grateful for it. To hear her voice cutting through the silence. To see her smile brighten the dark corners of his solitary life.

William exhaled deeply, fighting back the strange fluttering in his chest.

“How did you injure yourself … William?”

There was a hesitancy to how she formed his name on her lips. William shot her a glance, observing how her eyes skittered away, and he realized the young woman was as nervous as he at this unexpected interlude of theirs.

“It was nothing. Just a mishap with my ladder. I spend little time at home, so my tools here are not well maintained like the ones in the smithy. It turned out to be a mistake to use them without inspection.”

“Huh. So nothing to do with the roof repairs at Mrs. Heeley’s cottage?”

William scowled. She was far too observant. “How did you know that?”

“I saw the broken ladder and tiles out back. It was very kind of you to help the widow. Did she ask you to take care of it on Christmas Eve for a particular reason? Would it not have been easier with the help of one of your men?”

William mumbled his reply in a resentful tone.

“What was that?”

He frowned before admitting the truth in a louder voice. “Mrs. Heeley did not ask. You are not to mention it to her. I need to have one of my apprentices clean up the clutter so she will not learn of it, or it will embarrass her that I interceded.”

“You secretly repaired her roof on Christmas Eve?” William heard the note of awed admiration in Caroline’s voice, and a strange warmth settled in his chest. It stirred something gentle and unfamiliar, a flicker of pride at having been noticed by her.

They might be spending the holidays together, but there was no reason to become too familiar. He admired her far too much already, and he did not wish to grow fonder of her than he already had. The notion was uncomfortable, and he tore his gaze away, scowling at the ceiling. “Are you going to make something to eat, or what?”