“I can’t!” Cornelia hurriedly handed them back. “Once we get going, think of the speed. I won’t be able to hold the horses.”
“Easy there. Some things you only learn by trying.”
Frowning, Cornelia clenched her fists around the leather and flicked her wrists, setting the horses in motion. For a few minutes they drove in silence, Cornelia keeping her focus on the horses’ tossing manes.
It didn’t seem so difficult, after all, and they were soon some way from the Abbey, all about them sparkling, frosted white.
She wasn’t sure what to make of Burnell, or her feelings where he was concerned but, right now, she was resolved to enjoy the surrounding beauty and the freshness of the crisp winter air. Everything here was unhindered and open, and there was no one to tell her what she should be doing or saying. Maddening as Burnell was, he never judged her in that way.
Snapping the reins again, she made the horses trot a little faster and her heart lifted with a sudden feeling of joy and freedom.
“Looks like you’re a natural. Shame it’s so darned cold though. We get snow in Texas, but not like this; leastwise, not that I remember.”
“There are blankets.” Cornelia indicated over her shoulder.
“That sister of mine thinks of everything.” Burnell retrieved one from behind, folding it over Cornelia’s lap, then did the same for himself.
His leg pressed briefly to hers as he reached over but he acted as if nothing was amiss; he was clearly intent on avoiding awkwardness.
“What’s it like where you’re from—Texas, I mean?” Cornelia had wanted to ask for a while; she couldn’t help being curious.
“Nothing like here. None of your dainty hedgerows and squared off fields. Mostly desert and mountains and skies that roll on forever—leastwise in the part we’re from.” His voice drifted and he looked off towards the other side of the lake.
The tinkling sound of bells carried across the frozen water from the leading sleigh. Their horses were keeping a steady pace but the others appeared far ahead. Cornelia had a feeling they were taking the competitive element of the entertainment far more seriously than she.
“I’d like to see it…I mean, it sounds majestic.” Cornelia didn’t want him having the idea that she expected anything from him. She shifted in her seat. “I haven’t travelled as much as I’d like. Hardly at all, in fact.”
“The world’s a big place, that’s for sure. Plenty of sights to see if you’re not happy where you’re at.” Burnell shrugged. “We all make our own choices.”
It was the sort of answer she’d come to expect but his blitheness rankled nonetheless. He could travel on a whim, going wherever he liked; alone if he felt like it. She had the means to do so but not the liberty.
She’d done her best to guide her happiness but there were restraints upon what she might achieve. At the British Museum for example, Mr. Pettigrew would never give her more responsibility than she had at present. As long as she remained in her basement room and didn’t make a fuss, she was tolerated—nothing more.
As they rounded the bottom of the lake, the sleigh swayed and Burnell’s leg touched hers again but he didn’t allow the contact to continue, and his hands remained firmly on his knees. Despite herself, Cornelia felt rather piqued. He’d made no reference to the kiss that had occurred between them. Clearly, it meant little, or he’d have broached the subject.
She cast a quick glance sideways. “I must congratulate you, Mr. Burnell. Both the baron and Lord Fairlea were eager to have me join them. News of my new-found popularity is sure to circulate London in time for the new season. I may win myself a husband after all.”
Burnell’s expression stayed neutral. “Like I said—men always hanker for what’s sought after by others. Either that, or they want what’s supposedly forbidden.”
And what about you? She wanted to say. What is it you hanker for, Ethan?
Up ahead, the tracks led between overarching trees—a tunnel of sorts. Passing through, the branches, white with snow, dimmed the brightness of the sun and blocked them from view. If Burnell wished to slip his hand about her waist or steal a kiss, now would be the moment. To Cornelia’s chagrin, he attempted neither.
“I know all about what’s supposedly forbidden.” Cornelia sat up a little straighter. “At the museum, they think I don’t know what they’re up to, but I do!”
Burnell turned to her with raised eyebrows. “Sounds intriguing. Have you stumbled on a plot to blow up parliament, or assassinate the king?”
“Very droll.” Cornelia stirred the horses again. “I’m talking about the Secretarium.” She cast another oblique glance his way and was gratified to see him attentive. She couldn’t keep the satisfaction from her voice. “They act all holier than thou but they’re utter hypocrites. I know perfectly well what they’re doing when they sneak in to view what’s behind that locked door. They keep everyone else out by saying that the artefacts are inflammatory, only suitable for gentleman scholars to interpret—but I can vouch for there being nothing to cause any sensible person alarm.”
Burnell folded his arms, a small smile playing about his lips. “Overlooking the means you employed to gain access, what exactly did you see in this secret room? I take it my ears are scholarly enough to withstand the shock.”
Cornelia shifted in her seat. “Well, there were a great many Greek drinking cups—you know the sort of thing, adorned with fornicating couples.” She rolled her eyes. “And quite a few bronze nudes. I didn’t want to hang about too long, in case anyone else appeared, but most of the other items featured phallic imagery in some way. There were some rather pretty Roman rings actually, with little…well, you know, engraved upon them. I read a paper ages ago, which said that even Roman children wore those, as they were a talisman of sorts—for good luck and safety. They weren’t created to be titillating.”
“Uh huh.” Burnell cleared his throat and nodded seriously.
Cornelia was aware that she was probably saying too much, but it had been a source of indignation to her for many years. “It’s ridiculous—all that gatekeeping—as if no-one else is capable of deciding what they ought to be able to look at. Those objects are connected only by the theme of copulation, which is something most adult persons have experience of. It seems bizarre that people may do something themselves quite freely in their own homes but may not look on depictions of the act—or, at least, not in a public place.” It felt good to give voice to her exasperation.
“I suppose the museum worries that, if it put them on show, they’d have visitors lining up around the block. It wouldn’t do at all to have so many people clamouring to get inside the place.”
“Exactly!” Cornelia gave the reins another vigorous flick.
Burnell let out a bark of laughter.
“It might be humorous to you but the principles are meaningful to me.” She was about to give him several more pieces of her mind when she realized he’d moved a good deal nearer.
“There’s no getting away from it, Cornelia.” Burnell’s breath was soft on her cheek. “Clandestine pleasures are sweeter than the sort we’re handed on a plate.” He pushed a curl from her face. “It’s why men are drawn to taming the most spirited colts. The satisfaction in pacifying the creature is all the greater when they fight hard.”