“Does it really matter?” he asked. “Rest assured, I don’t have a secret wife or a bevy of children back in America. The rest is inconsequential.”
“But we barely know each other, Julian!” she cried.
“I know all I need to know about you, Mena. Anything else can be learned in time.”
She shook her head. “It’s too fast…”
He stilled. “Does that mean you don’t feel the same?”
She opened her mouth, but the words she yearned to say stuck in her throat.
His jaw worked as the silence stretched between them. “I see.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I guess there’s nothing else to say.”
He was some distance away before she finally gathered enough nerve to call out, “Julian, wait!”
But it was too late. He was gone.
Mena knew she had made a terrible mistake, so she quickly hailed down another hackney. She had no idea where Julian might be staying, so instead, she had the driver take her to Marigold’s residence. Since he was a friend to Robbie, her son-in-law might know where Julian could be found.
This time she had the driver wait while she ran up the steps to her daughter’s townhouse. She pounded frantically on the door, until the butler finally answered the door in his nightgown and cap. “Lady Lipscomb?” He blinked in surprise, although he held the door open for her.
She immediately went inside, but when she was about to ask for her son-in-law, Mari and Robbie appeared at the top of the steps leading to the second floor, dressed in their nightclothes. “Mama?” Marigold’s concerned voice floated down the stairs, and Mena instantly realized how foolish she’d been to come here and unnecessarily upset her pregnant daughter. Had she ever been so selfish?
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Mari flew down the steps and embraced her mother.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s just that Julian and I had an argument, and I didn’t know how to find him, and I was hoping that Robbie might be able to tell me his address so that I can apologize and tell him that I do love him…”
“Mama, you’re rambling.” Marigold wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you come into the parlor? I’ll get you a cup of tea…”
Mena shook her head. “No. It was wrong of me to disrupt you. Forgive me, I’ll just head home now.”
“Marigold’s right.” Her husband stepped forward. “You need to calm down first.”
“But I have a hackney waiting—”
“I’ll send him on his way while you and Mari head to the parlor.”
As he threw on his greatcoat and walked out the door to dispense with her driver, Marigold led Mena to the cheery parlor where a fire still flickered in the grate. She had been here more times than she could count, but the calming shades of blue and cream never failed to relax her.
Mena sat down with a trembling sigh. She still gripped her mask and her reticule, but now she tossed them beside her on the settee. “One would think at my age that I would have enough sense not to ruin one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
Marigold tilted her head where she sat on her other side. “Julian?” she guessed accurately.
“Yes.”
“What happened tonight?”
“Well, I went to the opera.” That part was easy enough to tell. “I had the best seat that one could wish for, but once the performance started, I felt as if a wave of guilt washed over me. Here I was, waiting for some strange man to come claim me, and yet, all I could picture was Julian.”
Her daughter frowned. “He wasn’t there?”
Mena shook her head. “Not that I saw, but then I didn’t stay long. I went to the park and thought a walk would help to clear my thoughts. That’s where Julian found me. He demanded to know what I was doing and—” She broke off and swallowed hard then added softly, “He claims he loves me, Mari.”
“That certainly can’t be what’s wrong. I know that you feel the same.”
“I do, but that’s the problem. He scares me.” She clenched her fists. “No, that came out wrong. What he makes me feel scares me.” She turned her head to regard her daughter. “I don’t think I have it in me to lose someone else that I love.”
Marigold reached out and squeezed her hand. “But that’s the risk we all take when we give our heart to someone. We might get hurt, but that doesn’t mean we should give up on it altogether.” She gentled her tone even further. “Julian cares for you a great deal. I know he would make a good husband. But you have to give him — and you — that chance.”
Mena smiled. “Since when did you become more intelligent than your mother?”
“Since I didn’t let the past haunt me, and I started to look forward to the future.”
“I can’t believe that there is enough love in my heart for Julian, for you take up a large part of it.”
Her daughter’s eyes misted. “I’ll always be here for you, Mama. No matter what.” Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour.
Mena glanced at the clock to see that it read three in the morning. “Merry Christmas, Marigold.”
“Merry Christmas, Mama.”
Day 12
Mena refused Marigold and Robbie’s offer to spend the night, since she only lived a few blocks away. She’d already inconvenienced them enough, she explained, and besides, her own servants would be concerned if she never made it home. She also refused the offer of their carriage, saying that a hackney would be sufficient transportation, as it had brought her there in the first place.
By the time she made it home, Mena was so exhausted that she didn’t even bother to change, but fell on her bed fully dressed in her royal blue gown. Even though she was exhausted, she slept only a few hours before she woke up just after dawn. Her maid’s expression said that she was surprised to see her up and about so early, although she didn’t say anything when Mena requested a bath.
Once she was dressed in a simple green day dress, with her hair pulled back into a matronly bun, Mena descended the stairs. Whether or not her heart bled for Julian this morning, she forced herself to push him from her mind, for there was work to be done. She was hosting Christmas dinner that evening for Marigold and Robbie, as well as her daughter’s in-laws. Since it was the first year Robbie and his parents would be joining them, she wanted it all to go off without a hitch. She didn’t have time to grieve over Julian’s loss or lament the fact that her admirer would forever be unknown because she’d been too much of a coward to meet him.
