Yuletide Happily Ever Afters; A Merry Little Set Of Regency Romances

by Jenna Jaxon

  Ingrid was the one who replied, “You could never do that, my lady. It’s been a true delight having you here.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that,” Mena returned, and she meant every word.

  Julian helped her with her pelisse in the foyer, and after he had his greatcoat thrown about his shoulders, he hailed a hackney and helped her inside. “You looked like you had a good time,” he noted.

  Mena shook her head. “No, I had a splendid time. Your sister is wonderful. You are lucky to have such a loving family.” She paused, wondering whether she should broach the subject or not, but her curiosity refused to abate. In the end, she blurted, “I always wondered whatever happened to your father. He quit the parsonage shortly after you left England.”

  “Ah, yes. The vicar,” Julian murmured. “It turned out he wasn’t as saintly as he would have liked to be portrayed. He had no choice but to go, as he was asked to leave.”

  Mena gasped. “Oh, my. I had no idea.” She instantly felt chagrined. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry—”

  He waved a hand. “It was an honest question. You knew him, after all.” He blew out a heavy breath. “The truth is, Ingrid was nearly born on the wrong side of the blanket. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father was unable to refrain from temptation, thus he began a clandestine affair with a local woman. When she became with child, he married her, but the damage had already been done to his reputation as a respectable vicar. So they moved to London where he could sponsor a proper Season for Ingrid.” His face grew tight. “He died last year, and his widow returned to Kent to live with family after Ingrid married.”

  “So you hadn’t seen him in all that time?” Mena’s heart broke for him and his loss. She could tell that it was a difficult subject for him, but some instinct wanted to comfort him. And it wasn’t entirely maternal.

  “No,” Julian returned evenly. “His affair was one of the reasons I made up my mind to travel to the Americas. I felt…betrayed somehow, even though my mother had been gone for some years. But then, I was young and didn’t understand how lonely he must have been in that time. We said some things that I would come to regret, but by the time I set my pride aside, he was already gone.” His eyes were steady as they regarded her. “Ingrid was the one who finally managed to locate me with the news. Until then I didn’t even know of her existence. We began to converse until she finally convinced me to return to England.”

  Mena smiled. “I’m glad she did.” She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the air inside the carriage suddenly grew thick with awareness. She dropped her gaze to his neckcloth. “Do you know how long you’ll be staying yet?”

  “That depends,” he murmured.

  She nodded. “On your business, of course.”

  “No.” He reached out and lifted her chin with his hand, his touch gentle but searing. “It depends on you.”

  The breath rushed out of Mena’s lungs as he lowered his mouth and touched hers. He steadily applied pressure until the kiss began to warm her from the inside out. Trembling rippled through her body. She had just raised her arms to place them on his shoulders to deepen the embrace, when the carriage suddenly came to a stop.

  She instantly pulled back. “I’m home.”

  “Indeed you are.” His voice was level as he leaned back against the seat. “Sweet dreams, Mena.”

  It was the first time he’d dared to fully voice her Christian name since they’d reconnected. “Good night. Julian.”

  His eyes flashed just before she exited the carriage. Her footsteps hastened until she was inside the security of her townhouse. Anders looked at her curiously as he helped her with her outerwear. “Did you have a good time, my lady?”

  She bit her lip, remembering the feel of Julian’s lips against hers. “Yes. I rather did.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” The butler cleared his throat. “A crate arrived while you were out. I placed it in the parlor.”

  Mena’s heart began to pound anew. “Thank you.”

  She wasted no time in walking into the parlor where an innocuous wooden box sat. But to her, it meant so much more. Mena fell to her knees where she worked to free the lid. Once she did, she lifted it to reveal eight bottles of elderberry wine. She lifted one of the dark red bottles to her view and had to smile. It was as if her secret admirer knew her innermost desires. Glancing at the bottom of the crate, she saw a single, folded note.

  She picked it up and read;

  A sweet wine for an equally sweet woman.

  The anticipation grows with each hour.

  Mena rose to her feet with the note and one of the bottles clutched in her grasp. Tonight, after nearly twenty years of abstaining, she would have a glass of wine.

  DAY SIX

  Mena returned to the attic the next morning, although she began cleaning later than she would have liked. Unfortunately, she’d imbibed a bit more than she had planned the night before, so she’d awoken with a bit of a headache and a queasy stomach. Luckily, she was greeted with her next gift when she awoke.

  Seven marzipan swans in a simple white box arrived with her breakfast tray. As usual, a card accompanied it.

  In case you are in need of some sustenance this morning.

  I would like to be the cure to anything that ails you, but alas,

  There are still six more days until Christmas.

  Mena shook her head. It was amazing how her mysterious suitor knew that she might have drank too much last night, thus would be suffering the alcohol’s effects this morning. He truly was a force to be reckoned with.

  She was just bending down to move a trunk out of her way when a masculine voice spoke up from behind her. “It’s nice to see that the lady of the house isn’t some spoiled countess intent on letting others do the work for her.”

  Mena instantly spun around upon hearing Julian’s voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with a secretive smile on his face. He was so utterly handsome in that moment that Mena was temporarily struck speechless. With the sunlight shining through the bare windows, it highlighted his blond hair and emphasized his firm, towering frame. He had to be nearly forty-seven, yet he was built as if he was still in his late-twenties. With an inward sigh, she wished she could say the same. She certainly wouldn’t want him looking at her without any clothes—

  She blinked. Now where on earth had that thought come from? Of course she wouldn’t be undressing in front of Julian.

  Then again, she hadn’t expected to be standing before him wearing an old, brown dress that should have been sent to the rag bin weeks ago. “What are you doing here?”

  For answer, he walked toward her and touched the rag covering her hair. He slowly removed it to reveal the brown braid coiled around the nape of her crown. Brushing a stray strand behind her ear, he asked softly, “How long is your hair?”

  She reached up and touched her head somewhat self-consciously. “I’m not sure. Maybe waist-length? Why?”

  His only reply was to smile and take a respectable step back. “I was wondering if you might have time to take a ride with me today. My sister has been raving about the British museum. I was hoping I might convince you to be my escort.”

  Mena felt her lips twitch. “Aren’t you afraid that I might try to take advantage of you if we were alone, Mr. Solomon?”

  He grinned. “I’m open to options, Lady Lipscomb.”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “In that case, I will see you downstairs in a short while.”

  As she walked to her chamber, she couldn’t help but think how enticing that might actually be.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Mena was bathed and dressed in a green velvet gown. As she made her way down the stairs, she felt her breath catch upon seeing Julian looking intently at her. He met her two steps away from the bottom, conveniently at perfect eye level with him. His gaze roved her form boldly. “I like your choice of attire, my lady.”

  It brought you to mind when I chose it, she thought, but
said, “Thank you.”

  After she had her fur-lined pelisse, gloves, and bonnet in place, he held out his arm to her. “Shall we?” He led her outside to a simple, black coach, devoid of any crest. “I took the liberty of borrowing my sister and brother-in-law’s carriage.”

  Mena climbed inside, finding the coach to be rather well upholstered and nicely sprung, and after they were settled, they set out.

  As they rode through the streets toward their destination, Mena talked animatedly in her role as escort, imparting information Julian might find interesting. “The British Museum was founded in 1753, and was located in the Bloomsbury district of London on Great Russell Street. It was formerly the residence of the Duke of Montagu, but after selling the mansion, it quickly became a focal point of the city, thanks to a large donation on behalf of Sir Hans Sloane, who was an avid collector of antiquities from around the world. It opened to the public six years later and had remained a favorite of locals and travelers ever since as it catered to a variety of historical tastes.”

  Julian turned to her as they made their way through the main entrance. “So is the Rosetta Stone really here?”

  “It is,” Mena concurred. “Although its presence here has been rather controversial. The Egyptians believe that it should be returned to their country, while the marbles recovered from the Parthenon in Greece have been just as equally divided.” She lowered her voice. “When the Earl of Elgin had the sculptures transferred to England, some said he was noble in his efforts to preserve history, but Lord Byron himself was one of his opponents who claimed that he’d done nothing more than vandalize a sacred site.”

  “Ouch.” Julian winced. “Then again, I must say I’m even more intrigued to see so many debatable items.”

  “Indeed,” Mena agreed. “They are certainly something to witness.”

  A short time later Julian was staring a several headless, female bodies encased forever in stone. “It’s rather macabre, isn’t it?” he murmured.

  “Some might say so, but they are still a marvel to see.” Mena ran her hand along the snout of a displayed horse’s head. “It’s amazing to think that they are hundreds of years old and countless people have witnessed these amazing figures.”

  “I’m not sure that I’d like to be stared at in such a…condition.”

  Mena turned to find Julian looking at a reclining male nude. She felt her lips twitch. “That would be Dionysus, the god of wine.”

  “In that case,” he noted out with a lifted brow. “One might think a god would be a bit more…endowed.”

  Mena simply rolled her eyes as they moved on to the next exhibit. The rest of the afternoon passed rather uneventfully, and soon they were on their way back to Mena’s townhouse. She’d had such a lovely day that she hated for their time to be at an end so soon. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  Julian glanced at her with those hypnotizing eyes. “I would like that.”

  After they went inside and removed their outerwear, Mena instructed Anders to let Cook know that Mr. Solomon was staying for supper. As she led the way into the parlor to await the announcement of the meal, she felt like a nervous debutante with Julian behind her. His presence overwhelmed her like Laurence’s never had. When her late husband had walked into the room, she’d felt as if she needed to sit up straighter or work on embroidery like a lady of her station should.

  With Julian, she felt…free.

  Instead of the proper Philomena, she was simply Mena.

  The ticking of the mantle clock was the only sound in the room as Mena and Julian sat across from one other. He had his arm thrown across the back of the settee, one leg propped on the other, appearing at ease, but the way he tapped his finger on the edge made her wonder if he was truly that relaxed.

  “Would you like to play chess?” she offered, hoping that the right words would finally come to chase away this terrible silence.

  His mouth turned down at the corners. “Unfortunately I never had a talent for it.”

  “I see.” She hesitated. “Cards, perhaps?”

  He blew out a sigh. “Maybe it would be best if I just left.”

  She blinked. “Why? Have I done something wrong?”

  Julian scoffed before he rose to his feet. He moved to the mantle and stared into the flames. “That’s just it. You’ve always done everything right.” He thrust a hand through his hair before he returned and knelt down before her. “Don’t you understand? I want you, Mena.”

  Her pulse instantly began to beat wildly at her throat. Looking into the eyes of this man that she’d always admired, and perhaps even loved during that long-ago summer, she found that she couldn’t deny him any more than she could deny herself.

  “I want you too.”

  DAY SEVEN

  The adoration she saw in Julian’s eyes instantly turned into something darker, more intense. “How long until dinner?”

  “Uh…” Her mind suddenly went blank. “About…an hour?”

  “That’s long enough.” He reached down and drew her to her feet. “Where is your bedchamber?”

  This is going too fast…But even as she thought those five words, she found herself replying breathlessly, “Upstairs. Second door on the right.”

  Without any hesitation, Julian led her to her suite of rooms. Once they were inside, he gently closed the door behind him.

  Mena’s heart was pounding, but when he started to loosen his cravat, she thought it might burst out of her chest. “I haven’t…that is to say, Laurence was my only…”

  Julian instantly stopped what he was doing and walked over to her. Taking her face in his hands, he bent down to kiss her softly. “We don’t have to do anything more than you are comfortable with, Mena. I wish to be your lover, but only if you desire it as well. I won’t push you any further than you want to go.”

  She put a hand to her forehead. “I’m being silly, I know. I’m a grown woman and a mother, for Heaven’s sake. I shouldn’t be this nervous.” She looked at him. “Do you mind if we draw the curtains closed?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I want to see you, Mena.”

  “You might change your mind once you witness what I have to offer,” she returned dryly. “I’m not in my twenties anymore, Julian.”

  He stroked her cheek. “I don’t care. You’re still my Mena.”

  His words washed over her like the sweetest endearment. “Are you sure you don’t just want to lift my skirts and be done with it?”

  He frowned. “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

  Mena tried to force the words to come, but as recognition lit his face, she realized that he understood all too well.

  “Ah. I take it that was how dear old Laurence took care of things.” His voice deepened. “Trust me when I say I intend to take my time with you and make sure you are thoroughly satisfied before I take my pleasure.”

  Oh, she rather liked the sound of that. “How so?” she dared to ask.

  “Allow me to show you.” He stepped back and indicated her gown. “But first, all of this needs to go.”

  She swallowed. “Alright.” A pause. “Should I call for my ladies’ maid?”

  He shook his head. “I am more than capable of filling that role.”

  Suddenly, Mena wondered exactly how experienced Julian had been over the years. “Something tells me you’re quite adept at this.”

  He removed his jacket and threw it over a nearby chair. “I haven’t lived the life of a monk, if that’s what you mean. But know that there’s never been anyone to compare with you.”

  His words caused her toes to curl in her slippers. Not until he removed his cravat, waistcoat, and finally his shirt, baring his naked chest to her, did what they were about to do become all too real.

  And all too exciting.

  As if in a trance, she walked forward and slowly ran her hands down his chest. The small patches of hair tickled her fingers, and she curled her hands over his pectoral muscles. He tensed beneath her exploration as
she boldly leaned forward, lightly nipping the hollow at the base of his throat.

  Without a word, he took her shoulders and gently turned her away from him. “My turn,” he growled, and then began to undo the line of buttons down her back. With each one that loosened, she could feel his breath on her skin, sending delightful shivers down her spine. It wasn’t until he undid her stays that all the confining material fell to the floor, leaving her clad in only her stockings and chemise.

  His lips grazed her shoulder as he slowly pushed down the straps of linen. Once her last bit of covering had joined the rest, he bent down and rolled her stockings off her feet. Then, he reached for her hair. He took his time pulling out the pins that held her chignon in place. She sighed as the brunette strands fell to her waist in a heavy wave.

  Only then did he turn her back around to face him. His eyes took in every inch of her bare skin. From the crown of her head to the tips of her exposed toes, he caressed her with his gaze, warmth flooding her body. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Mena.”

  With those poignant words, he captured her mouth once more.

  He slowly backed her up toward the bed and gently pushed her down. She gasped when he covered her body with his. He glanced at her in concern. “Am I too heavy?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just…shocking.” For as long as she had been married to Laurence, she had never felt a man’s naked body against her own. The sensation of the hard planes of Julian’s chest and thighs against her soft curves was certainly different than anything she had ever experienced before. His weight made her felt comforted and safe.

  It was wonderful.

  “I want more,” she panted.

  She felt his smile against her cheek. “As my lady commands.”

  With that, he began to lavish kisses anywhere and everywhere. When he latched on to her nipple and began to suck, she clutched the counterpane. Her legs were moving restlessly, her core was throbbing with a need she didn’t understand. “Please…” she begged. “I’ve never felt…”