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 7

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.