“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.”
If possible, his brows lifted even higher. “Are you quite…sure you wish to part with so many?”
Mena blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “I can see that you are concerned for my wellbeing, but don’t be. I feel rather…invigorated.” She gave a decisive nod. “And yes, I’m sure.”
“As you wish.” The butler bowed and left the room, likely to get help in order to haul away two-thirds of the library that was strewn about the room.
In turn, Mena had never felt more free. If this change in her character continued, she might even redecorate the entire house. She’d always thought the earthy tones of brown, tan, and green were a bit maudlin. Perhaps some violet, or even orange…
The butler suddenly reappeared. “My lady, there is a gentleman here to see you.”
Mena instinctively reached up to pat her hair. “Who is it?”
“He says his name is Mr. Solomon, although he didn’t have a calling card to offer.”
Mena’s pulse sped up, but she had to smile. No doubt the Colonies didn’t adhere to the proprieties like England did. “Show him into the front parlor, if you will, and bring some refreshments. I’ll freshen up and join him in a few minutes.”
She nearly ran to her room and began rummaging through her dresses. She bit her lip, for nothing seemed good enough to wear, but in the end, she chose a cheery yellow dress. It complimented her dark hair well, but it suited her mood most of all.
After her hair was pulled back into a simple chignon, she made her way back downstairs.
Julian was standing by the window overlooking the street when she entered the parlor. Although there was a teacart present with cucumber sandwiches and scones, he hadn’t taken advantage. “Lady Lipscomb.” He bowed politely. “I thought to wait for you to join me.”
Mena felt a blush steal across her cheeks. Dear Heavens! It had to have been decades since she’d felt the flush of youth. “How kind of you, Mr. Solomon.”
He winked. “I have my moments.”
The heat in her face rose by degrees. “Would you like me to pour?”
He waved his hand.
Mena picked up the teapot and did her best not to spill the contents. She was shaking like a leaf for some reason. “Cream or sugar?”
“Neither for me.”
His smile made her toes curl in her slippers. How was it that he could affect her so? She was a grown woman with a married daughter, for God’s sake. Surely, the time for youthful excitement had long passed her by. She was a sensible woman, who had no time for flights of fancy…
Mena handed Julian his cup, and their fingers brushed. It was like lightning danced across her skin.
With a gasp, she jerked her hand back, causing his tea to spill down the front of his jacket. “Oh! I do apologize! I swear I am so clumsy of late!” She knew she was rambling, but as she grabbed a towel and began to wipe down his damp lapels, she realized that he wasn’t saying anything.
He was likely mortified at her behavior.
But when she dared to glance up at his face, his eyes were anything but condemning. Those green depths smoldered with a dark intensity that instantly stilled her hand, and her lips parted in a silent invitation.
But as the seconds passed and he didn’t make a move toward her, her cheeks started to burn for an entirely different reason. Humiliation. She cast her eyes downward. “I’m sure you didn’t expect to get scalded when you arrived here today—”
“Don’t worry about the tea.” Julian stood. “I didn’t really come here for that.”
She held her breath, still keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the carpet at her feet. “Then why are you here?”
He didn’t reply at first, although she felt the slight brush of his hand at her temple before he grasped her chin and gently turned her face to his. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips. It was so light and brief that she could have imagined it, if it wasn’t for the blood singing through her veins. “I’m not sure you’re ready to find out,” he whispered, before he dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’ve only dropped by today with an invitation from my sister to join us for a dinner tomorrow night.”
“Are you—” Mena had to swallow before she could continue. “Staying with her?”
“For now.” The conversation stalled, and Julian withdrew a paper from his pocket. “This is the address. Say eight o’clock?”
Mena nodded.
“Until tomorrow, Lady Lipscomb.”
