I pray that these twelve days have been all you wished for.
You are, and have only ever been, my true heart’s desire.
After she handed the note to Marigold, she withdrew a single ticket to the Covent Garden opera. She knew who held the second.
Marigold gasped. “That performance has been sold out for weeks! I can’t imagine how he might have gained tickets!”
“It is a wonder,” Mena murmured.
She must have had an odd look on her face, for her daughter asked, “You’re thinking about not going, aren’t you?”
“It had crossed my mind.”
“Mama!” Marigold chided. “You can’t do that! After all this man has done, the least he deserves is your attendance!”
“Of course, you’re right.” Mena glanced up. “I’ll be there.”
Butterflies swirled in Mena’s stomach when her carriage pulled up in front of the Royal Opera House that evening. Attired in a royal blue dress with a matching bonnet and a black velvet pelisse, she nearly lost her courage. What if, upon closer inspection, her admirer found her lacking? Because of these doubts, she nearly asked her driver to take her back home. Instead, she took a deep breath and walked up the steps of the intimidating structure before she sent him on. Whatever happened tonight, there was no need for him to remain. She could always find alternative travel.
Inside, she handed over her ticket and was then ushered toward a private box located on the top row of the three tiers available. Her seat was directly in the middle, the best view in the entire theatre, especially compared with the lower level seating that many commoners were forced to occupy.
Mena tried to calm her nervousness by glancing at the occupants seated around her, but the fluttering fans and curious glances cast her way became too much, and she lowered her glasses. Her heart was already pounding, and by the time the curtain arose and the performance began, she had very little interest in the actors on stage. Her palms were sweaty inside her gloves, and a bead of perspiration trailed down her spine. At this rate, she would likely pass out before her suitor even made an appearance.
As if she didn’t feel idiotic enough already.
That decided it.
She stood up and blindly walked toward the curtain at the back of her box. Tears blurred her vision, but frustration was better than the idea that she would be sitting there alone all night.
She stumbled out into the cold night air and managed to hail a hackney. Once inside, she felt she could breathe a bit easier, but even then, she was too restless to go home. Tapping on the roof, she gave the driver her new location. He looked at her strangely, but then he shrugged and deposited her at the edge of Hyde Park. She threw a pound note at him, causing him to grin widely, before she stepped to the ground.
The hackney rattled off, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t asked him to wait because she didn’t honestly know how long she would need to walk before she calmed down enough to go to sleep. Considering the way she felt, she would likely be here all night.
Mena hugged herself and set out, putting one foot in front of the other. When she’d been a child back in Kent, she had found a new perspective just by taking a long walk. It went far to restore one’s soul.
It was on one such ramble that she’d met Julian for the first time.
God, would she never be free of him?
That was the real reason that she’d run from the theatre tonight. She’d felt she was betraying Julian by meeting this mysterious man.
And she knew her heart would break if it turned out that it wasn’t him. Call her a coward, but she just couldn’t deal with another devastating loss of that magnitude. Not now. And not when it involved Julian.
She sank down onto a bench. She had to get ahold of herself.
“Where the hell have you been?”
The sharp demand instantly sent Mena to her feet. Julian strode toward her, his greatcoat flying out behind him with each step. However, it was the furious scowl on his face that held her attention. “What…are you doing here?” she breathed.
“I might ask you the same damn thing,” he said harshly. “I thought you were going to the theatre tonight.”
“Did Marigold tell you?” She shook her head. “I don’t know why she thinks she needs to interfere with our relationship—”
He crossed his arms and glared at her. “And what exactly is that, Mena? I’m a bit confused myself.”
“And you think I’m not?” Her voice sounded shrill, so she forced herself to calm. “I was at the theatre tonight. I was supposed to meet my secret admirer at midnight, but…” She shrugged helplessly.
“What happened, Mena?”
“I couldn’t do it!” she said in exasperation. “I felt as though I was…betraying you somehow, which is absolutely ridiculous, because we are nothing more than lovers—”
“Do you truly believe that?” he asked softly.
“What else am I expected to believe?” she countered. “You’ve never once said anything that might lead me to imagine—”
“What if I said I loved you?” he cut in. “What would you say to that?”
Mena felt her mouth fall open. “Do you?”
He scoffed. “Didn’t I just say so?”
“Well, yes, but…” She sighed.
“Don’t you believe me?”
“I…don’t know.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know why you’re in London, what your life has been like for the past twenty years…”
