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.
At the bottom of the box was another, simple card.
Another day has passed, bringing me closer to you.
Ten more gifts before I reveal my identity.
Until then, my love.
Mena put them all back in the box with a sigh. Even when Laurence had been courting her, he hadn’t bothered to expend the effort on sending her gifts, because he knew that they were already promised. Even later, whether it was her birthday, their anniversary, or even Christmas, he hadn’t showered her with presents. He’d claimed that such frivolities were unnecessary since he bestowed a monthly allowance on her and she could go out and purchase whatever she wished at any time.
Of course, he had been entirely reasonable.
At least, that was what she’d convinced herself at the time.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
She had to admit to a certain thrill when she’d opened both of these secret gifts. But the idea that there actually might be someone out there admiring her from afar was just too farfetched. For a woman her age, who was a widow and had a grown daughter, it was likely just someone playing a lark. She didn’t see the humor in being the brunt of such a joke, but since there wasn’t much she could do about it at the moment she would just have to accept it.
A part of her still believed that Marigold was responsible, even though she seemed just as perplexed by the arrival of the flowers. Either way, if she could believe the card, in ten days the sender’s identity would be revealed, and this farce would come to an end. After that, she could return to her simple life and live the rest of her days in peace and contentment.
