Then again, she never imagined that she would be a widow at such a young age. Or that she would have to mourn the loss of her son. But that was life. One had to endure the good as well as the bad.

In the end, she’d decided that it was best for some things to remain buried, so she’d effectively put Julian Solomon out of her mind. It was strange, however, that he wanted to float back into her memory now.

Mena reached out and rubbed a silky soft petal between her thumb and forefinger.

After all, some things were just not meant to be.

Day 2

Mena went about her daily, morning routine. While part of her didn’t want to put too much faith that her ‘secret admirer’ would actually follow through on the promise of twelve days of gifts, she couldn’t help a bit of anticipatory eagerness as she went down to breakfast, half expecting to perhaps find a small wrapped parcel next to her plate.

Of course, there was nothing.

Either way, she knew she really shouldn’t accept anything except a trivial token of affection, for if word spread, such behavior would likely be frowned upon. Widow or not, she might be construed as fast, and that would not do. Then again, if she didn’t know whom the gifts were from, then there was no way to return them until the mystery was solved.

She vowed not to stress about it overmuch, but as the day wore on and no deliveries were made, she felt her suspicions that this was all just a simple lark were rather accurate.

Feeling restless, she decided that the best cure was to do a bit of shopping, so she ordered the carriage to be brought around. She descended the stairs dressed in a blue velvet pelisse, matching bonnet, and fur muff, but as she stepped outside, she nearly regretted her decision to leave the warmth of her townhouse as her breath fogged before her and instantly froze her cheeks. Even the windows of her coach were lightly frosted over.

She felt guilty for making her driver wait upon her in such conditions, but she vowed that she wouldn’t tarry. Thus, she climbed inside and settled herself against the cushions and set her feet upon the warming brick.

Mena didn’t recall many cold winters in her day, although the year her husband died, the Thames actually froze over. Solidly enough, in fact, that an elephant was marched across the river alongside Blackfriars Bridge and printing presses were brought out and actually placed upon the ice in order to print souvenirs of this historic “frost fair.” It was a rather unprecedented event, and one Mena would have liked to enjoy a bit more, but Laurence had been ill and she’d had to remain at home.

But she never felt any bitterness toward him because of it. He truly had been a good man and treated her well. If nothing else could be said of their union, it was that they shared a mutual respect for one another.

Even if there had been no passion…

As her carriage deposited her on Bond Street, she adjusted her bonnet. She needed to remove such unwanted thoughts before they had room to grow. All this talk about a possible suitor, as well as Marigold’s concerns about her own marriage had merely unsettled her. It was time to turn her attention elsewhere.

Even so, as she walked into the glover’s shop, an older gentleman smiled as he held the door open for her on his way out, and she murmured her thanks only after eyeing him sharply for the gesture.

With a shake of her head, Mena frowned. Now she was just being silly.

After selecting a simple pair of lined, leather gloves, she stood by the counter waiting while the shopkeeper wrapped them up for her. Two young women and their gentleman escort entered. Mena thought they couldn’t be more than twenty years of age with their bouncing, blond curls and giggling smiles. She had to grin when the gentleman tipped his hat at her and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Mena murmured a reply as she took her package, but when she turned to leave, she accidently bumped into one of the girls. “I beg your pardon,” she said hastily, to which she was given a sweetly dimpled reply.

She was almost out the door, and out of earshot, when she heard the girl say softly from behind her, “Poor thing. I daresay with her poor sight she didn’t see me standing there. I daresay I’m not looking forward to the day I get that old.”

Mena walked outside before she reached up and touched the rim of her glasses. She’d had nearly forgotten she had them on, but she couldn’t see very well without them any longer, so after a bit of frustration, she had finally given in to wearing them the majority of the time. Even so, she couldn’t deny that the girl’s comment stung. She knew it wasn’t said with malicious intent, but it made Mena realize that she wasn’t getting any younger.

She headed toward her carriage, tears stinging her eyes. She suddenly wasn’t in the mood to shop anymore. With her head down, Mena wasn’t paying attention like she should, so she nearly stumbled over a pair of sizeable feet in a pair of sharp-looking Hessians.

Two strong hands instantly reached out to steady her, with a firm grip on her shoulders, and a masculine voice chided gently, “You should be more careful, madam.”

“Indeed. I shouldn’t want to break a hip at my age,” Mena murmured somewhat bitterly. The words were out before she could stop them, but to her surprise, the gentleman laughed.

The sound was so rich and pleasant that she forced her eyes to lift. She instantly felt the blood leave her face when she met a familiar green gaze. It was a shock to imagine that she had just been thinking of Julian Solomon, and now, here he stood in the flesh. She hadn’t seen him in years, but there was no denying it was the same boy from her youth, nor that he still made her heart pound beneath her breast.

Of course, he had aged during their time apart, but the changes only made him more handsome. He still had the same, dark blond hair and casual manner, but his childhood freckles had disappeared, leaving behind a mature face lined with very few wrinkles. His body had filled out and grown taller, but he didn’t appear to possess a paunch underneath his greatcoat.

She must have breathed his name, for he inclined his head and grinned. “I was wondering if you might remember me, Lady Lipscomb.”

She blinked. “I…yes, of course.” She paused and found her footing. “It’s just been a long time. How are you, Mr. Solomon?”

“Quite well, my lady.” His green eyes twinkled in amusement, before his smile faltered slightly. “I heard of your son’s death. I’m very sorry.”

“Yes, it was…difficult.” She had to swallow to keep the tears at bay. It was always tough when it came to the memory of Jacob. “But he was honored for his service in the war, so I suppose I can’t ask for more than that.” She sighed. “At least his father didn’t have to suffer his loss as well.”

Julian’s jaw seemed to harden. “Indeed.”

Mena sensed his reluctance to speak of her late husband, so she asked, “What brings you to London?”

His casual and somewhat flirtatious demeanor returned. “I have some delicate…business to oversee.”

“I hope it’s nothing too challenging,” she said sincerely.

“I don’t believe it will be.” He eyed her steadily. “But I plan on giving the matter my utmost attention.”

She was about to ask if he might be in town long when he frowned and glanced down at his pocket watch.

“Forgive me, but there is somewhere I need to be. Might I call upon you this week?”

Mena didn’t even give her reply a second thought. “Of course.”

He snapped his watch closed and tucked it away. “Then I shall look forward to it, Lady Lipscomb.”

With a brief touch of his hat in farewell, he strode off down the street, his long legs quickly lengthening the distance between them.

For several moments, Mena couldn’t move, as if she was stuck in some kind of trance. The chill finally interceded, and she took off in the opposite direction. She didn’t even know if Julian was married or had children. It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask. For all she knew, he might have a family waiting for him somewhere in the city. It was a strange thought, but whoever they might be, surely he would know they would all be welcome to call. Unfortunately, she hadn’t asked for his address, so any formal invitation would have to wait.

As she approached the carriage, the driver opened the door for her and nodded toward the seat. “A messenger boy dropped that off while you were gone, my lady.”

Mena eyed the plain wrapped parcel with a critical eye as she climbed inside and sat down. “Did he give the sender’s name?”

“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.