“Perfect!” Marigold said excitedly. “This weekend is the Norrington Ball. We should be able to gather several names—”

Mena cut her off. “We?”

Mari rolled her eyes. “Naturally. As your daughter, I have to approve of anyone who wishes to court my mother.”

Now it was Mena’s turn to scoff, although she didn’t say anything as they took their seats.

It wasn’t until Mari’s query registered in her mind, that Mena realized she hadn’t yet received a gift for that day. Maybe the excitement from her prospective suitor had already worn off…

About that time, a group of gypsy women appeared from a tent across the gardens. Mena thought it was the beginning of the entertainment to come, but when they steadily drew closer with their colorful scarves and half-hidden faces, she began to suspect that this was a private performance.

Nine ladies dancing.

A few murmurs rippled throughout the crowd, and indeed the women were rather sensual with their hip movements. They had bells on their fingers that they chimed in accordance with their gyrations. If Mena could think of one word that might describe their motions, it rather mimicked the act of lovemaking.

Suddenly, Mena felt as if the temperature in the box had risen, but more so when one of the women leaned forward and held a card out between her painted nails. “For you, my lady,” she whispered, before they all slowly faded away.

“That was rather…interesting,” Robbie murmured. Both his wife and his mother-in-law ignored him.

“What does it say?” Mari practically squealed.

Mena opened the card, anticipation humming through her entire body.

Eight days remain.

I want to make sure this is a Christmas to remember.

Forever yours.

Marigold sat back in her chair, a dumbfounded look on her face. “Oh, my.”

Mena didn’t say a word.

Day 5

There were some who believed that a person’s entire life could flash before someone in the blink of an eye when one died, but what about when the person yet lived? After being treated to such an erotic display the night before, followed by a rather awkward silence from her daughter on the carriage ride home some time afterward, Mena began to think of her life and everything that had led up to that point. Now, as she turned her attentions toward cleaning the attic, her current circumstances had her frowning.

It baffled her that anyone could be so forward with their intentions. She had never been one to inspire ballads, but now she was the object of some sort of bold fascination. While it had been flattering at first, as the days drew closer, she began to wonder if she was setting herself up for heartbreak. Or worse. Even a lark would be better than some crazed libertine who believed that he might be in love with her.

But since she didn’t know the sender’s identity, there was no way to make the gifts stop, so she would have to contend with the attention for now.

As if that didn’t make her sound ungrateful. Some women would probably love to be showered with such lavish presents, but Mena had always been practical by nature. It was how she’d been raised.

It was another reason all of this was so hard to swallow.

Mena coughed as she tore down another curtain. Dust motes flew through the air, making her wonder how long these drapes had been hanging here unattended. However, to be fair, she had never asked the servants to clean here, as she didn’t see much point in it. Mena wasn’t sure why she was here now, except that she just needed time to refocus on everything and just…think.

It was true that this mystery suitor was changing her. The fact she was considering redoing the entire townhouse was evidence enough, even if she hadn’t torn apart the library and given away most of her husband’s tomes.

But was this sudden change of heart truly a bad thing?

At this point, she wasn’t sure.

“My lady,” the butler appeared in the doorway. “You asked me to let you know when it was six o’clock.”

Mena pushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and stepped down from the ladder she’d been standing on. “It’s that late already?” She glanced outside and realized that the sun was indeed already set. “My goodness,” she murmured. She’d been in this dusty old attic all afternoon, yet it had only seemed like a couple hours.

She wiped her hands on her apron and walked past the servant, who fell into step behind her. “Your bath is already prepared, Lady Lipscomb.”

“Thank you,” she returned sincerely. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Anders.”

He merely offered a bow in return before they parted ways at her chamber. After soaking her sore muscles in a long, warm bath, Mena allowed her ladies’ maid to assist her into a simple but elegant maroon velvet gown. Julian had made it sound as though she was attending an informal family dinner, so she decided to forgo any of her more expensive jewelry and settled on a simple cameo necklace.

She asked for the carriage to be ready by seven-thirty, and when she descended the staircase, her driver was waiting for her. She sat in anticipatory silence as she traveled from her townhouse in Berkeley Square to the address in St. James. While it wasn’t as affluent a neighborhood as Mayfair, it was certainly regal in its own right, surrounded by Green Park. Many notorious highwaymen used to haunt its grounds in search of unsuspecting prey some years before, but after their ultimate departure, the area was quite pleasant.

The carriage finally rolled to a stop at Number 21, but before her driver could set down the steps, a strong, ungloved hand was reaching out to help her alight. “I’m so glad you could come, Lady Lipscomb.”

Mena put her white-gloved hand in his and smiled. Looking at his chiseled lips, she imagined the feel of them pressed against her own. She quickly glanced away, although she gracefully accepted the arm he held out to her as he addressed her driver, “Your ladyship has no more need of your services. I will see that she gets home safely.”

When her servant turned to her in query, she gave a brief nod of her head, although she turned to Julian with a raised brow. “That was rather highhanded of you, Mr. Solomon.”

“Terribly.” His grin was so boyish that any annoyance she might have felt instantly dissipated like smoke on the air.

Once they were in the foyer, Mena got a glimpse of particularly elegant surroundings before she handed over her outer wear to a waiting footman. It wasn’t until she turned around to face Julian that she froze. His gaze was glued to her chest. “What is it?”

Julian cleared his throat. “Nothing.” After shaking his head slightly, he said, “Come. Everyone is already in the dining room.”

She glanced down at her empire-waist dress in concern. True, it was a bit lower in the neckline than she preferred, but it was the current fashion. The modiste had assured her of that when she raved about how the shade brought out her coloring when she’d purchased it last month.

Even so, she felt that something was wrong, for his mouth was suddenly pinched. “I’m not late, am I?”

He looked at her curiously. “Did I give that impression?”

“No, you merely looked at me oddly just now.”

He paused and turned to her, his green gaze roaming the swell of her breasts. “I was merely admiring the view, and wishing that we were alone.”

Mena had no reply to that, so she remained silent until they entered the dining room. The petite blonde that Mena recalled from the park the day before instantly made her way over to them.

“You must be the Lady Lipscomb I’ve heard so much about.” She smiled brightly. “I’m Julian’s sister, Ingrid Cray.” A brown-haired man with equally brown eyes and a friendly smile joined her. “This is my husband, Joshua.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both,” Mena returned cordially. “But please, call me Mena.”

After a few more pleasantries were exchanged, Julian led her to the table and pulled out a chair for her, before he took the seat to her right.

“I hope you don’t mind if our children and their governess, Miss Ames, joins us,” Ingrid said with a sheepish grin. “I fear we don’t stand on ceremony by banishing Penelope and Jonathan to the nursery. Then again…” She shrugged. “…my husband is in trade, so we aren’t usually on many of the ton’s guest lists.”

Mena smiled. “It’s no problem at all, Mrs. Cray. I enjoy children. While it’s true that society’s rules are a bit more strict for women like me, I spent quite a bit of time in the nursery with my own.”