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.”
Ingrid took a sip of her soup. “Yes, Julian told me of your son’s sacrifice at Waterloo. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Mena’s throat grew tight. “Jacob has been gone for two years, but I still miss him every day.” She took a deep breath. “But Mari is happily married and about to become a mother herself.”
Ingrid’s mouth fell open. “You can’t say that you’re about to be a grandmother? You look entirely too young for that.”
Mena wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I appreciate that, although I don’t always feel young anymore.”
“Julian says that you stop living only when you stop trying.”
“Does he?” Mena turned to Julian who offered her a scandalous wink. She couldn’t help but laugh. It felt wonderful. She had denied herself such small intimacies for too long. If her mysterious suitor hadn’t managed to awaken something new and exciting in her, then the teasing glint in Julian’s green eyes certainly did.
The rest of dinner passed in very much the same way. Light conversation with a bit of merriment and teasing between brother and sister. It was obvious that they shared a special bond. Mena had always lamented the fact that she’d never had any siblings. She supposed that’s why she’d always felt as though all of the responsibility fell on her shoulders growing up. Until now, she’d never allowed herself to simply sit back and enjoy herself without thinking of someone she might offend, or some action that might be construed as unladylike. With Julian and his family, she could just…be.
After they were finished eating, Mena expected to leave the men to their port and cigars, while she and Ingrid retired to the parlor, but again, this was something else they didn’t stand on ceremony for. Everyone retired to the parlor, even the governess and the children. Penelope and Jonathan presented Mena with a grand puppet theatre performance that had her clapping merrily by the end. Afterward, the chatter did not dispense. They played charades and a few other parlor games before the children finally gave out and the governess ushered them to bed.
Afterward, the two couples played cards until the clock finally struck midnight. “Oh, dear, is it that late already?” Mena gasped. She’d been having so much fun that the time had run away from her.
“Are you afraid of turning into a pumpkin?” Julian teased.
