by Jenna Jaxon
“He ran off before I had a chance to question him.”
“I see.” She stared at the package, before she turned back to the driver. “I’m ready to go home now.”
“Very good, my lady.”
The door was shut, and Mena picked up the box. As the carriage set into motion, she hesitated, wondering if she should rip it open or toss the thing into the street in light of her recent turmoil in the shop, and her abrupt encounter with Julian. In the end, curiosity won out, and she slowly untied the string. Her heart was pounding as a simple, square box was revealed. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out and lifted the lid. Instantly, she let out a gasp as several delicate linen handkerchiefs were revealed. While most ladies’ handkerchiefs were plain white with fine lace edging, these were different. In various colors, printed with hearts and lovebirds, they were commonly referred to as ‘flirting squares.’
Once they were all laid out before her, she had to give a reluctant smile.
There were eleven of them.
At the bottom of the box was another, simple card.
Another day has passed, bringing me closer to you.
Ten more gifts before I reveal my identity.
Until then, my love.
Mena put them all back in the box with a sigh. Even when Laurence had been courting her, he hadn’t bothered to expend the effort on sending her gifts, because he knew that they were already promised. Even later, whether it was her birthday, their anniversary, or even Christmas, he hadn’t showered her with presents. He’d claimed that such frivolities were unnecessary since he bestowed a monthly allowance on her and she could go out and purchase whatever she wished at any time.
Of course, he had been entirely reasonable.
At least, that was what she’d convinced herself at the time.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
She had to admit to a certain thrill when she’d opened both of these secret gifts. But the idea that there actually might be someone out there admiring her from afar was just too farfetched. For a woman her age, who was a widow and had a grown daughter, it was likely just someone playing a lark. She didn’t see the humor in being the brunt of such a joke, but since there wasn’t much she could do about it at the moment she would just have to accept it.
A part of her still believed that Marigold was responsible, even though she seemed just as perplexed by the arrival of the flowers. Either way, if she could believe the card, in ten days the sender’s identity would be revealed, and this farce would come to an end. After that, she could return to her simple life and live the rest of her days in peace and contentment.
It was what she wanted.
Truly.
DAY THREE
Mena was in her private sitting room working on some needlepoint when Marigold came by for a visit the following day.
After dropping a brief kiss on Mena’s cheek, Marigold wasted no time beginning her inquisition. “So what new gift did you receive yesterday?”
Mena calmly pulled her thread through the hoop, before glancing up over the rim of her glasses. “What makes you think I got anything?”
Her daughter rolled her eyes. “Because the note specified a gift each day until Christmas. So what was it?” she persisted.
Mena shook her head, although she pointed toward her dressing table where the box of handkerchiefs sat. As her daughter lifted the lid with a squeal of delight, Mena stuck her needle in the middle of the bluebird she was working on and removed her spectacles.
“These are wonderful, Mama!” She walked toward her with a red square of linen. “Do you have any idea of who it might be yet?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Mena eyed her daughter critically. “Don’t you think it’s time to drop the charade?”
Marigold’s eyes widened, as she realized what her mother was implying. “You can’t imagine that it’s me!” she gasped.
“Isn’t it?” Mena accused.
“No!” Marigold denied vehemently, before she softened her tone. “While I would love to take credit for such extravagance, I certainly can’t.”
Mena sighed in defeat. “Then I must be the brunt of some joke.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. She had the makings of a headache from all this nonsense. She’d been up half the night contemplating these mysterious gifts and who could possibly be responsible, or at the very least, who would refer to her as their ‘love.’ She’d finally convinced herself that it was Marigold, for surely no one else of her acquaintance would go to such lengths.
She glanced up when Mari took hold of her hand. “You are a wonderful woman, Mama. It’s not too late for a second chance at life, nor is it impossible to believe that someone truly admires who you are.”
Mena looked at her daughter. With Marigold’s blue eyes and dark hair, it was like looking into a mirror, twenty years earlier, of course. Naturally, there were certain characteristics that belonged to Laurence, but Mena had been told more than once how much they favored one another. “I have you and that’s all I need.”
At least it wasn’t a complete lie.
Mena decided it was time to switch the subject. “Have you been to see the doctor yet?”
Marigold’s cheeks turned pink. “I have an appointment for tomorrow.”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” Mena said sincerely. “I hope you have time to stay for lunch.”
Her daughter sighed heavily. “I wish I could, but I promised Lady Terrance that I would go shopping with her today. But Robbie and I will be here tomorrow evening to take you to Vauxhall.”
Mena swallowed her initial disappointment and gave her daughter a hug before offering a fond farewell.
After Marigold was gone, Mena went back to her needlepoint, but she couldn’t summon the appropriate amount of enthusiasm to return to it. While she would never tell Mari the truth, the fact was, Mena was rather lonely. Laurence had been gone for three years, and sometimes she lamented his absence. There had been times when each tick of the case clock had felt like an eternity, and she’d stared into the fireplace and watched the dancing flames for lack of anything else to do. At one point, she’d considered hiring a companion, but she just didn’t feel quite that desperate yet. Even so, she knew she couldn’t rely on her daughter to keep her spirits up forever, so perhaps it was time to consider remarrying.
But first, she had to make a list of possible suitors.
Thus, she walked over to her writing desk and sat down. With a blank sheet of paper in front of her, she dipped her quill in the ink. Unfortunately, as she waited for inspiration to strike, or in this case, a particular name to pop into her head, she found that her knowledge of suitable men her age was rather lacking.
After nearly a quarter of an hour staring at a blank page, Mena gave up and decided that perhaps a brisk walk would stir up some possibilities.
After donning her boots, blue velvet pelisse, bonnet, and muff, she walked out into the brisk December wind. It almost seemed colder than the day before, but she dared herself to walk quickly to keep the blood in her limbs moving.
Mena eventually found herself at the edge of Hyde Park. While it was bustling with activity during the Season, the crowd was thin during the winter months when most of society went to their estates to escape the weather, although some dared to return for holiday entertainment. Mena, however, was one of the few who remained in the city year round. She could have retired to her husband’s former estate in Kent, but now that Laurence’s nephew had taken over the title, it was his home, and she hated to intrude. However, they kept an open invitation for her in case she ever changed her mind.
Mena made her way through the park and looked at all the activity going on around her. Children played while their governesses kept watch a respectful distance away. Several gentlemen were riding horseback down Rotten Row, while a few ladies dared to brave the cold in open landaus, wishing to see and be seen even in such harsh conditions. But in the middle of it all, Mena caught sight of a familiar figure.
; A tall, blond man was tossing a toddler up in the air. The golden-haired girl squealed with delight as Julian spun her around and set her down then scooped up a slightly larger boy up with his other arm. Mena’s throat grew tight with the memory of her own children at that age. She had never bothered to conform to tradition, choosing to spend as much time with Mari and Jacob as possible, which annoyed Laurence to no end. He felt that one’s offspring should be seen and not heard; thus he had spent little time with them.
It was clear that Julian didn’t feel that way about his own children.
Mena quickly turned and ducked her head, wanting to get away as quickly as possible without being seen.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be. “Lady Lipscomb!” She closed her eyes as that deep voice called out her name. It was too familiar when the scene she’d just witnessed still tugged at her heart. “Lady Lipscomb! Wait!”
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm and finally turned. The sight of him literally stopped her heart. He was so handsome with his tousled, blond hair and devastating smile. How had she ever remembered him as simply a dear friend from that long ago summer? She realized now that he had always been so much more, but at the time, she knew she hadn’t been able to act on those impulses when she’d been promised to another.
“Where are you rushing off to?”
Mena twisted the material of her dress around her fingers. It was a habit she hadn’t had in twenty years, but it appeared her nervousness decided to pick it up once more. If her mother was still alive she would be highly upset. Thus, she forced herself to clasp her hands before her instead. “Hello again, Mr. Solomon. I was out for a walk, but it’s time I was headed home.”
She started to turn, but he stopped her. “May I escort you?”
Glancing past Julian’s broad shoulder, Mena could see the two children looking in their direction. Not only that, but there was a petite blond woman who had joined them. She stiffened. “No, thank you. I shouldn’t wish to intrude on your family time. Good day.”
He snorted. “I’m sure Ingrid won’t miss me overmuch. She’s already weary of my presence in London, except when I’m occupying Penelope and Jonathan.”
Mena’s mouth fell open. The Julian she’d known had never been so crass! But then, she didn’t know him any longer, did she? “Sir! That is quite enough!” she hissed, only to gain a perplexed look from Julian. Must she actually spell it out for him? “If you keep speaking like that, you will surely give society the wrong impression about your relationship with your wife and children!”
Instead of the proper set down she’d intended to give him, she felt her irritation rise to new heights when he actually grinned!
With a huff, Mena spun on her heel. She wasn’t about to be thought of as anyone’s possible mistress, and she was rather annoyed that Julian would be so careless with his attentions in public.
“I hate to disappoint you, Lady Lipscomb, but Ingrid Cray is my sister and those heathens are her children with her husband, Joshua. I fear I am quite an unrepentant bachelor myself.”
Mena felt her cheeks turn fifteen shades of red, before she slowly turned back around with a sheepish expression. “I’m so sorry—”
He waved her off. “No apology necessary. It’s an honest mistake, and it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. Back in Chicago, it was a common occurrence.”
“Is that where you went when you left England?”
Mena regretted the question as soon as she said it, for his easygoing manner instantly shut down, replaced by a shadow of torment across his eyes. “No.”
It was all he offered and she didn’t press him. “I really should be getting back.”
He offered a brief bow from the waist. “Of course. Perhaps I can convince my sister to invite you over for dinner soon.”
Mena offered a polite smile. “That would be lovely. Good day, Mr. Solomon.”
As she began to walk away, she thought she heard him whisper, “Goodbye, Mena,” but instead of turning back, she increased her pace.
When she returned home, she was rather disheartened to find no mysterious package awaiting her. After her awkward, second interlude with Julian, she was in need of something to lift her spirits.
Mena closed her eyes. Get ahold of yourself! You are not some young, naïve girl that should be at home pining for anything! Especially some phantom suitor!
Once she’d handed over her outerwear to the butler, Mena made her way upstairs, intent on taking a long, soaking bath to relax. However, the moment she stepped into her bedchamber, she was struck with brilliant light. Ten, floor-length, silver candelabra stood around her copper bath and illuminated the entire room.
“What is this?” Mena breathed, but something told her she already knew.
Her ladies’ maid was there, but the moment she spotted her mistress, she walked forward. “A messenger arrived earlier with instructions for us.” With that, she opened the door to admit a handful of footmen carrying steaming buckets of hot water. Once the tub was filled, she returned Mena with a secret smile and handed her a sealed card. “Ring when you’re ready, my lady,” she said, before she quit the room.
Mena took no time in ripping open the card.
I hope that you will pamper yourself properly tonight.
You deserve no less.
Only nine more days until you are mine.
I am eagerly counting the hours.
Mena pressed the card against her breast.
So was she.
DAY FOUR
Mena actually found herself humming softly the next morning as she made her way down to breakfast, but as she entered the dining room, she pursed her lips together and put an abrupt stop to it. She calmly selected a few items from the sideboard and sat down at the table, but unfortunately, the happy smile on her face would not dissipate.
Last night had been one of the loveliest experiences of her life. The light from the candles had bathed her in a warm glow and made her feel more sensual and desirable than she had in years. She felt each droplet of water that fell from her fingers, and each swirl of scented oil had caressed her skin like a lover’s touch.
Mena had even allowed herself a small daydream: one in which her mystery suitor was waiting below her window for her to make an appearance. With a flick of her wrist, she might even unlock the casement and he would climb up to her chamber. After that, he would take her in his arms—
Her fork clattered to her plate. A swirling heat was coursing through her body like a foreign object. Never before had she ever been afflicted with what modern physicians referred to as ‘hysteria,’ but once these gifts started arriving, it was becoming a common malady.
What is wrong with me?
Perhaps she was starting to suffer a mental breakdown from being alone the past three years, for she had never felt this way when Laurence was alive. Their lovemaking had been practical. They always made love with the lights off while she was still wearing her nightdress. He would lift the hem, take care of his business, and five minutes later, it would be over.
The only difference had been on their wedding night when she had been tipsy from too much wine, and she couldn’t quit giggling long enough for him to come to completion. After that awkward experience, he had made sure to let her know that such behavior was uncouth for a young, married lady.
She hadn’t touched another drop of alcohol since.
She remembered that she’d rather liked the flavor, but she had always thought she was doing some wrong just thinking of it.
Now, perhaps, it was time to live a little.
Mena waved over one of the footmen standing by. “Do we have any Madeira on hand?”
“I don’t believe so, my lady.”
“Hmm. Some sherry then?”
He cleared his throat. “With all due respect, my lady, I don’t believe we have any spirits in the house.”
“Why ever not?” She frowned.
He hesitated. “You never requested them.”
“Of course, my lady.”
As she quit the dining room, Mena walked down the hall to the library. It was past time for her to catch up on some reading, but as she strolled along the line and began to peruse the titles available, she snorted in disgust. “Philosophy, history, economics,” she muttered. “Where are all the novels?”
She set her hands on her hips and glared at the bookshelf. Again, this townhouse was filled with all of Laurence’s reading selections, and none of her own. While she had no problem reading anything that was there, she wanted something that belonged to her. All her life she’d lived with either her parents, or her spouse, so she’d never really had anything to call her own.
It was time to rectify that. While she couldn’t very well go back in time, she could start to make some changes now.
Mena rolled up her sleeves and began to work.
***
Three hours later, she was standing in the middle of the library with piles of books surrounding her. They were on desks, chairs, the floor; anywhere that she had been able to make space. Once she was done, she wiped the perspiration from her brow and rang for the butler.
He took one look at the chaos and raised his brows perceptibly. “Yes, my lady?”
She waved a hand. “I would like to donate all these volumes to the local lending library or a charity. Whomever you think might benefit the most.”
If possible, his brows lifted even higher. “Are you quite…sure you wish to part with so many?”
Mena blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “I can see that you are concerned for my wellbeing, but don’t be. I feel rather…invigorated.” She gave a decisive nod. “And yes, I’m sure.”