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

by Jenna Jaxon

  Mena stared at the square box in his hand. “Just leave it on the dresser, if you please.” The butler did as she asked, before he took his leave.

  For several minutes, Mena stared at the offending item before she finally forced herself to move forward. She took the box and sat down on the edge of the bed. Removing the red silken ribbon, she slowly opened the box to find a neat, white card on top of a black velvet inner box.

  There is nothing that can compare to your loveliness.

  You are beautiful inside and out.

  I can’t wait to worship you properly.

  Until then, please wear these for me tonight.

  All my love.

  So her admirer was going to be in attendance at the Norrington Ball.

  Mena slowly opened the lid and felt her lungs cease to inhale air. A three-piece set consisting of a necklace, bracelet and earbobs, a mixture of emeralds and diamonds, met her gaze. The gemstones winked up at her in all their expensive glory.

  They must surely have cost a small fortune.

  She touched one of the glittering emeralds and had to shake her head. Her admirer certainly knew how to impress. For a Christmas ball, they would stand out against her bright red gown, as well as compliment her green mask that she had chosen for the masquerade. She had no idea how he might have known what color dress she was even going to be wearing, but somehow he must have found out, for this way he could admire her from afar, confident in her identity, while she continued to remain unaware.

  The rebellious nature from her youth wanted to ignore his request, but as usual, in the end she gave in. There were only two days before her suitor revealed himself. At that time, she would politely thank him for his gifts and see that they were returned.

  Then she would tell him that she loved another.

  Her ladies’ maid arrived shortly thereafter and instantly gushed about the jewelry. “Oh, you certainly have a dedicated beau, my lady. He must care for you a great deal.”

  Mena barely withheld a sigh. With each day that passed, she should have been preening with excitement, but instead, she dreaded the day she finally came face to face with her admirer.

  Because she feared that it wouldn’t be Julian.

  Once she was dressed in all her finery and Anders had told her that Mari and Robbie were waiting for her downstairs, Mena dismissed her maid. “There’s no need to wait up. I have no idea what time I’ll be home, and I’m sure I can manage.”

  The girl bobbed a curtsy and quit the room. Mena turned to pick up her mask, the final piece to her ensemble, but when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, she paused. Since Laurence’s death three years ago, followed by Jacob’s the following year, Mena had thought her life was over. In truth, she had ceased to exist after her son’s death.

  But now, she realized that she had a long road of possibility ahead of her. And where she thought she was some haggard old woman, the face staring back at her would suggest otherwise. While her reflection wasn’t the first blossom of youth, she was still a woman with the vigorous glow of health and longevity. Her dark hair was piled on her head, and her blue eyes shone with a maturity that was to be celebrated, not scorned. She had suffered terrible loss during her life but had become stronger because of it. Even her figure, while more curvaceous than some, was a testament to how far she had come.

  And survived.

  A confident smile touched her lips, and with her mask hanging next to her matching green silk reticule, she descended the stairs.

  ***

  The moment Mari spied her, she gasped. “Mama? Is it truly you?”

  She lifted a brow as she embraced her daughter with a laugh. “You were expecting someone else?”

  “No, of course not,” Mari said with a grin. “It’s just you look so—” She looked at Mena with a considering eye. “Different.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Mena asked.

  “It’s a very good thing.”

  Her son-in-law reached for her gloved hand, bringing the green silk to his lips for a light kiss. “I believe what my wife is trying to say is that you look lovely, Lady Lipscomb.”

  Mena smiled at the man who had stolen her daughter’s heart. With his light blond hair and suave manner, she could certainly understand his appeal. He was a wonderful husband to her daughter, who would soon make an equally wonderful father “Thank you, Robert.”

  He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?” With Marigold on his other side, he led the way to his waiting carriage. “I daresay I shall be the luckiest man at the ball to enter with two such adornments.”

  He offered them both a wink, to which they replied with a pleasant laugh.

  After a brief ride through the London streets, they arrived at the Norrington residence. Outside the white Palladian structure, evergreen swirled around the massive pillars, and the entire, three-story abode was lit up with candles in every window. The décor inside was equally stunning, with more evergreen and holly surrounding the massive staircase leading to the grand, gold ballroom. Mena had been here once before and recalled the lovely black and white swirled marble floor, but now it was so crowded that the splendor was nearly eclipsed with so many people milling about.

  About that time, a rather buxom matron jarred Mena. “It’s a terrible crush, is it not?” she muttered, the ostrich plume in her yellow turban falling forward somewhat precariously. Mena was quite sure that the feather would be sacrificed before night’s end.

  About thirty minutes later, they finally made their way to the front of the receiving line. After greeting their host and hostess, looking quite festive in their respective silver attire, the butler announced the trio, but his voice was quite drowned out by the din of the audience before him.

  By the time they reached the bottom step, Mari put a hand to her forehead. “Is something wrong, dear?” her husband asked in concern.

  “Just a little warm.”

  He smiled gently. “No doubt our child is not used to such a demanding presence. Come, let’s get a breath of fresh air.” He threaded Mari’s arm through his. “Would you like to join us?” he asked Mena.

  She waved them away. “I’ll be perfectly fine. Just take care of my daughter and future grandchild.”

  Robert smiled, before he led his wife away.

  Mena took a deep breath before decided that a bit of refreshment was in order, as she was already starting to feel the stifling effects of the crowd herself.

  She made her way to the table set up with several treats, but her focus was on the eggnog. Originally a posset drink consisting of milk and spices used as certain remedies for the ill, it had turned into a popular Christmas beverage over the years.

  Mena quickly procured a glass, but instantly coughed when the overwhelming presence of brandy nearly took her breath.

  “Not used to strong spirits?” a deep voice asked from behind her.

  Instantly, Mena took another bracing sip. She needed the liquid courage for the man she was about to face. Slowly, she turned to Julian. “It has been awhile, I admit, but I’m sure I will grow accustomed to the taste before long.”

  He winked behind his simple black domino mask. “Some things just come back naturally.”

  Mena took a larger sip. Something told her that he wasn’t speaking of alcohol any longer. God, he looks entirely sinful tonight. Her greedy gaze took in every firm inch of him. He was dressed entirely in black except for his snow-white cravat and an emerald green waistcoat in a damask pattern. His dark blond hair was brushed back from his forehead, giving him a rakish air. And if that wasn’t enough to tempt her, his strong jawline and chiseled lips were enough to make any woman sigh with admiration.

  “Another gift from your admirer?” He gestured to her neck, where the heavy stones sat just above the curve of her breasts.

  Mena reached up and touched the necklace with the tips of her fingers, almost guiltily, before she forced her hand back down. “As a matter of fact.”

  “Quite an extravagant fello
w, isn’t he?” he drawled.

  Mena smirked. She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a bit. “Oh, I don’t know. Does love really have a price?”

  He gave a snort. “Be careful. You don’t want to fall into this man’s trap. You don’t know what his intentions are.”

  Mena took another sip of her eggnog. Once the brandy had started to settle in her belly, she felt a bit more courageous. “Like I know yours?”

  “Mena—”

  Unfortunately, she didn’t know what Julian had been about to say, for Lord Grantley suddenly loomed before her. She instantly stilled, for he was one of the men on her possible list of admirers. “My lady, you are the most amazing creature in the room. Might I have the pleasure of the next dance?”

  Mena didn’t know why, but she glanced at Julian. While his hypnotic green gaze was upon her, he stubbornly didn’t interfere. So, after draining her glass, she calmly set it aside and held out her hand to Lord Grantley. “I’d be honored, my lord.”

  She ignored Julian as she allowed her partner to sweep her up into a waltz. While Lord Grantley nearly tripped over himself to pay her every compliment known to man, she heard little of what he was saying. Her thoughts were on one man, and one alone. But since he obviously didn’t mind sharing her with somebody else, she was determined to push him out of her mind and enjoy the rest of her evening.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t a particularly difficult task, for she never lacked for partners. As soon as Lord Grantley relinquished her hand, another gentleman came to take his place. Within the first hour, she had danced with all but one of the prospective suitors on her list, so her plan to draw her admirer out of hiding was working rather well.

  But still, Julian didn’t come forward to claim her, even though she would glance up and see him hovering about the edge of the ballroom, that glittering gaze firmly fixated on her. It was as if he was keeping a silent vigil over her, while maintaining his distance.

  When two more hours passed, she felt her patience starting to wear to the breaking point. But nothing could have cut her to the quick as much as when Julian finally joined the group of dancers — with another woman in his arms.

  Because of Mena’s inattentiveness to her partner, she ended up treading upon his feet. “Oh, I do apologize, sir.” She couldn’t even recall his name at the moment her brain was so befuddled. “Perhaps I need to rest a bit.”

  “Of course. Shall I get a drink for you?”

  Mena thought of the heavily laced eggnog and nodded. “Yes, I think that shall help.”

  Once she had a glass in her grasp, the gentleman bowed and took his leave. On the fringes of the ballroom, Mena headed for the balcony. She couldn’t stand there and watch Julian flirt with another woman while her heart bled at the sight. Granted, she had been attempting to capture his attention by making him jealous, but her efforts had been for naught.

  The moment she stepped out of doors, the brisk December wind nearly caught her off guard, but the cold helped to clear her mind. She reached up and undid the ribbon tying her mask in place. Once it was off, she exhaled heavily, her breath turning into a white cloud before her. She nearly undid the pins and freed her dark tresses, the need for freedom almost overwhelming. It was nearly one o’clock, still early by ton standards, but perhaps it was time for her to depart.

  Just as she was about to leave, a voice spoke from the opposite side of the terrace. “I wondered where you’d disappeared to.”

  She turned to see Julian leaning against the railing, his arms crossed. “I thought perhaps you were too busy to notice.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Not only did she sound like an envious fishmonger’s wife, it was completely out of character for her. She had no claim on Julian. “Forgive me,” she muttered. “I fear it’s the brandy talking.” She started to head back inside. “I think it’s time to go.”

  The instant she touched the door handle, his hand closed over hers. She could feel his warmth behind her, his breath hot on the nape of her neck, causing shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. “What if I wanted you to stay?” he murmured.

  She had to swallow before she could speak. Even then, it came out as a mere whisper. “It’s not your choice.”

  His hand tightened slightly on hers. “What if I danced with you?”

  “Reduced to bargaining, Mr. Solomon?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  She slowly spun to face him. “Then I would have to say yes.”

  The hand not imprisoning hers grasped her about the waist. “God, you’re so beautiful.” Without warning, he lowered his head and captured her mouth.

  His kiss was almost brutal, assaulting, but Mena had never been more inflamed by desire. She didn’t want to dance. She didn’t want to be in clothes. She just wanted her naked body wrapped around his, each breath she exhaled an echo of his.

  “Take me home.” At this point, she didn’t care if she pleaded or begged. She wanted him and nothing else would satisfy her.

  “Are you sure?”

  Her answer was immediate. “Yes.” A thought occurred to her, and she hesitated, “But I rode here with Marigold and Robbie—”

  “They left about half an hour ago. Marigold wasn’t feeling well. I told them I would see you safely home.”

  Mena wanted to be angry at his highhandedness, but she felt her lips twitching instead. “Did you?”

  “I know. Terribly arrogant of me, wasn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” she agreed.

  He lifted a brow. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”

  She bit her lip to suppress a smile. “Get the carriage.”

  DAY ELEVEN

  Mena awoke the next morning with a smile on her face. She stretched, but stilled when she felt something cold and hard around her neck. Her smile grew. Of course. She still wore the jewelry. When she would have removed them the night before, Julian had halted her movements. “Leave them on,” he’d whispered.

  She stared at the pillow where his head had been most of the night, the indentation from his head still evident. She pulled it closer to her and breathed deeply. The faint aroma of his cologne and the male scent that lingered belonged only to Julian. He must have left sometime around dawn, for it was barely even light outside. He’d offered a parting kiss with a murmured farewell that caused a warm, pleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach before she’d fallen back into the land of dreams.

  But since she couldn’t lie abed all day, it was time to rise.

  Mena was in the dining room enjoying a cup of tea and some breakfast when Marigold called. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked upon entering the room.

  “I’m well.” Mari replied with a happy smile. “The real question is, how are you? I daresay I haven’t seen such a glow on your face in months.”

  Mena felt her face heat, although she said primly. “A lady never speaks of such things, and you are a shocking child to even wonder.”

  Mari’s only reply was a roll of her eyes as she sat down beside her. “I’m a married woman. I’m not a child any longer.”

  “I do know that,” Mena replied with a heavy sigh.

  “You’re not going to cry, are you, Mama?”

  Mena shook her head, although her eyes filled with moisture. “No.”

  “Oh, Mama.” Marigold reached out and hugged her. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “Silly goose,” Mena replied with a sniffle. “I am happy.”

  Mari pulled back. “I know you are with Julian.”

  Mena didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

  “Won’t you give him a chance?” her daughter persisted.

  “That,” Mena pointed out, “is not up to me.”

  They fell into a companionable silence until Anders arrived with a silver salver. “A message, my lady.”

  Marigold instantly brightened. “It’s Christmas Eve!”

  “Not much gets past you,” Mena noted dryly, but with
a teasing smile that softened her words. She took the card the butler offered and opened it as he melted back into the hallway.;

  Tonight at midnight, I will come to you with one final Christmas gift.

  I pray that these twelve days have been all you wished for.

  You are, and have only ever been, my true heart’s desire.

  After she handed the note to Marigold, she withdrew a single ticket to the Covent Garden opera. She knew who held the second.

  Marigold gasped. “That performance has been sold out for weeks! I can’t imagine how he might have gained tickets!”

  “It is a wonder,” Mena murmured.

  She must have had an odd look on her face, for her daughter asked, “You’re thinking about not going, aren’t you?”

  “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Mama!” Marigold chided. “You can’t do that! After all this man has done, the least he deserves is your attendance!”

  “Of course, you’re right.” Mena glanced up. “I’ll be there.”

  ***

  Butterflies swirled in Mena’s stomach when her carriage pulled up in front of the Royal Opera House that evening. Attired in a royal blue dress with a matching bonnet and a black velvet pelisse, she nearly lost her courage. What if, upon closer inspection, her admirer found her lacking? Because of these doubts, she nearly asked her driver to take her back home. Instead, she took a deep breath and walked up the steps of the intimidating structure before she sent him on. Whatever happened tonight, there was no need for him to remain. She could always find alternative travel.

  Inside, she handed over her ticket and was then ushered toward a private box located on the top row of the three tiers available. Her seat was directly in the middle, the best view in the entire theatre, especially compared with the lower level seating that many commoners were forced to occupy.

  Mena tried to calm her nervousness by glancing at the occupants seated around her, but the fluttering fans and curious glances cast her way became too much, and she lowered her glasses. Her heart was already pounding, and by the time the curtain arose and the performance began, she had very little interest in the actors on stage. Her palms were sweaty inside her gloves, and a bead of perspiration trailed down her spine. At this rate, she would likely pass out before her suitor even made an appearance.