“Hardly, but I should probably get home. I wouldn’t wish to overstay my welcome.”
Ingrid was the one who replied, “You could never do that, my lady. It’s been a true delight having you here.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” Mena returned, and she meant every word.
Julian helped her with her pelisse in the foyer, and after he had his greatcoat thrown about his shoulders, he hailed a hackney and helped her inside. “You looked like you had a good time,” he noted.
Mena shook her head. “No, I had a splendid time. Your sister is wonderful. You are lucky to have such a loving family.” She paused, wondering whether she should broach the subject or not, but her curiosity refused to abate. In the end, she blurted, “I always wondered whatever happened to your father. He quit the parsonage shortly after you left England.”
“Ah, yes. The vicar,” Julian murmured. “It turned out he wasn’t as saintly as he would have liked to be portrayed. He had no choice but to go, as he was asked to leave.”
Mena gasped. “Oh, my. I had no idea.” She instantly felt chagrined. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry—”
He waved a hand. “It was an honest question. You knew him, after all.” He blew out a heavy breath. “The truth is, Ingrid was nearly born on the wrong side of the blanket. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father was unable to refrain from temptation, thus he began a clandestine affair with a local woman. When she became with child, he married her, but the damage had already been done to his reputation as a respectable vicar. So they moved to London where he could sponsor a proper Season for Ingrid.” His face grew tight. “He died last year, and his widow returned to Kent to live with family after Ingrid married.”
“So you hadn’t seen him in all that time?” Mena’s heart broke for him and his loss. She could tell that it was a difficult subject for him, but some instinct wanted to comfort him. And it wasn’t entirely maternal.
“No,” Julian returned evenly. “His affair was one of the reasons I made up my mind to travel to the Americas. I felt…betrayed somehow, even though my mother had been gone for some years. But then, I was young and didn’t understand how lonely he must have been in that time. We said some things that I would come to regret, but by the time I set my pride aside, he was already gone.” His eyes were steady as they regarded her. “Ingrid was the one who finally managed to locate me with the news. Until then I didn’t even know of her existence. We began to converse until she finally convinced me to return to England.”
Mena smiled. “I’m glad she did.” She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the air inside the carriage suddenly grew thick with awareness. She dropped her gaze to his neckcloth. “Do you know how long you’ll be staying yet?”
“That depends,” he murmured.
She nodded. “On your business, of course.”
“No.” He reached out and lifted her chin with his hand, his touch gentle but searing. “It depends on you.”
The breath rushed out of Mena’s lungs as he lowered his mouth and touched hers. He steadily applied pressure until the kiss began to warm her from the inside out. Trembling rippled through her body. She had just raised her arms to place them on his shoulders to deepen the embrace, when the carriage suddenly came to a stop.
She instantly pulled back. “I’m home.”
“Indeed you are.” His voice was level as he leaned back against the seat. “Sweet dreams, Mena.”
It was the first time he’d dared to fully voice her Christian name since they’d reconnected. “Good night. Julian.”
His eyes flashed just before she exited the carriage. Her footsteps hastened until she was inside the security of her townhouse. Anders looked at her curiously as he helped her with her outerwear. “Did you have a good time, my lady?”
She bit her lip, remembering the feel of Julian’s lips against hers. “Yes. I rather did.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” The butler cleared his throat. “A crate arrived while you were out. I placed it in the parlor.”
Mena’s heart began to pound anew. “Thank you.”
She wasted no time in walking into the parlor where an innocuous wooden box sat. But to her, it meant so much more. Mena fell to her knees where she worked to free the lid. Once she did, she lifted it to reveal eight bottles of elderberry wine. She lifted one of the dark red bottles to her view and had to smile. It was as if her secret admirer knew her innermost desires. Glancing at the bottom of the crate, she saw a single, folded note.
She picked it up and read;
A sweet wine for an equally sweet woman.
The anticipation grows with each hour.
Mena rose to her feet with the note and one of the bottles clutched in her grasp. Tonight, after nearly twenty years of abstaining, she would have a glass of wine.
Day 6
Mena returned to the attic the next morning, although she began cleaning later than she would have liked. Unfortunately, she’d imbibed a bit more than she had planned the night before, so she’d awoken with a bit of a headache and a queasy stomach. Luckily, she was greeted with her next gift when she awoke.
Seven marzipan swans in a simple white box arrived with her breakfast tray. As usual, a card accompanied it.
In case you are in need of some sustenance this morning.
I would like to be the cure to anything that ails you, but alas,
There are still six more days until Christmas.
Mena shook her head. It was amazing how her mysterious suitor knew that she might have drank too much last night, thus would be suffering the alcohol’s effects this morning. He truly was a force to be reckoned with.
She was just bending down to move a trunk out of her way when a masculine voice spoke up from behind her. “It’s nice to see that the lady of the house isn’t some spoiled countess intent on letting others do the work for her.”
Mena instantly spun around upon hearing Julian’s voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with a secretive smile on his face. He was so utterly handsome in that moment that Mena was temporarily struck speechless. With the sunlight shining through the bare windows, it highlighted his blond hair and emphasized his firm, towering frame. He had to be nearly forty-seven, yet he was built as if he was still in his late-twenties. With an inward sigh, she wished she could say the same. She certainly wouldn’t want him looking at her without any clothes—
She blinked. Now where on earth had that thought come from? Of course she wouldn’t be undressing in front of Julian.
Then again, she hadn’t expected to be standing before him wearing an old, brown dress that should have been sent to the rag bin weeks ago. “What are you doing here?”
For answer, he walked toward her and touched the rag covering her hair. He slowly removed it to reveal the brown braid coiled around the nape of her crown. Brushing a stray strand behind her ear, he asked softly, “How long is your hair?”
She reached up and touched her head somewhat self-consciously. “I’m not sure. Maybe waist-length? Why?”
