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 4

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.”

“Well, I am now.” Mena stood up and threw down her napkin. While she would never speak ill of the dead, Laurence was gone, so it was time that she started to do things to suit her and not worry about offending her late husband’s tastes. “Please send for some at the earliest opportunity, if you please.”

“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.”