Mena closed her eyes. Three sweeter words had never been spoken.
Unless they were, I love you.
Mena sat patiently as her maid brushed out her long, brown hair. After helping her into her nightdress, the maid quit the room, leaving Mena staring into the mirror on her dressing table. She looked at the face that had survived nearly forty-two years of joy and heartbreak. While she still maintained a somewhat youthful appearance, there were certain, marked changes, like the slight lines around her blue eyes and mouth, and the few, snowy white hairs near her brunette crown. Naturally, her figure had suffered as well, but she had never been concerned with the changes brought about by childbirth. Her mother had always told her that a bit of weight was healthy on a woman, but perhaps she had only said that because she was rather plump herself.
She smiled at the memory of her mother. She had died when Mena was but a child, and her father a few years after her marriage to Laurence. She’d loved them both dearly, but now, in essence, Philomena was alone. Of course, she had her daughter and son-in-law’s love and unending support, but if her suspicions were correct and they were getting ready to start a family, they didn’t need her constant presence when they were trying to carve out a life of their own.
With a sigh, Mena recalled the card she had stuck out of sight earlier. She’d hidden it from her maid as if she was a wayward debutante concealing secrets regarding a disreputable beau.
Then again, she hadn’t been expecting such a lovely boon.
Standing, Mena walked over to the bed and sank down on the edge. She’d asked for the roses to be brought up to her room after dinner, and now she leaned over to her bedside table and breathed in their delightful scent.
She suddenly found herself transported back to an age of innocence on her father’s estate in Kent. He had been the local squire, well liked by the entire hamlet for his fair mindedness and gentle dealings with any issues that might have arisen from the tenants. It was because of his popular social standing, and the fact he was a close friend with Lord Lipscomb, that the earl became a prime candidate for Mena’s hand. In truth, their union had been planned since she was a child.
Mena had always known her role as Laurence’s countess was already arranged. She’d never had any cause to doubt it, or rebel against the decision.
Until the local vicar’s son arrived for a visit.
Julian Solomon. She blew out a heavy breath. She hadn’t let herself think of that name since she’d married Laurence, deciding that it was best to put the past behind her. And it wasn’t as though Julian was a large part of that. In truth, they’d only been casual acquaintances that summer he’d been on leave from school.
It was the manner in which he’d left that had stuck with her until this day.
An eighteen-year-old young man with dark blond hair and mischievous green eyes, a smattering of freckles across his nose, he’d handed her a plain, cotton handkerchief. “So you will have something to remember me by when I leave to make my fortune in the Colonies.”
Mena remembered scoffing at his dreams. “It’s everyone’s hope when they leave England, to make a new start in that land infested with scavengers and ne’er-do-wells. Why would you want to risk your life on such a fool’s quest?”
His only reply had been a wide grin. “Because I will be one of the few to succeed.” Only then had his eyes sobered. “And then I’ll come back for you, Mena.”
Her youthful thirteen-year-old heart had stopped. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re my girl.”
Mena had never seen nor heard from Julian after that day, and seven years later, at age twenty, she’d married Lord Lipscomb, who was nearly thirty years her senior.
She’d always rejoiced that Julian had found the courage to strike out on his own, while she had stayed behind to settle into her role as a future wife and mother. She had never thought of doing anything more than what was expected of her, and so, when Laurence proposed some years later, she had promptly accepted. She had known her duty to her family, and she never thought that the path her life took would be carved out any differently. While she admired Julian and his determination, she had never regretted her life decisions.
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.
