Minnie sat up and whimpered, looking between the two of them.
“Calm yourself, Cornelia.” Burnell frowned. “You’re frightening that little dog of yours.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! And leave Minnie out of this.” However, she dropped her voice several tones and gave the terrier a kiss between the ears.
“That horrible woman will be spreading gossip to the first person she meets, telling them I’ve lured you into a proposal by beguiling you. They’ll say I’ve tempted you with my body—like Eve with Adam, offering what he couldn’t resist. They’ll say I’m wicked, a siren of the worst sort, a harlot who couldn’t wait to get you into bed.”
“Whoa there!” Burnell smothered a chuckle. “That’s a lot of seduction, and I don’t remember any of it. Leastways, not as much as you’re describing.” He looked about for the bell pull. “I’ll order tea. That’s what everyone says you should drink when you’re overwrought.”
“I don’t want tea! I just don’t want to be judged! That’s the trouble with the ton. Everyone knows everyone and nothing remains a secret.”
“They aren’t judging you.” Burnell rested his elbows onto his knees.
“Yes, they are.” Was it so impossible for him to understand? “They judge everyone.”
“I don’t feel judged.” He shrugged.
“That’s because they’re too busy admiring your…your….” Cornelia dropped her head into her hands. Did she really have to spell it out for him?
“My assets.” He added helpfully.
Cornelia nodded wearily. She’d been going to say ‘arse’ but his word choice was adequate.
“We are supposed to be convincing everyone,” Burnell went on. “That flighty piece Mrs. Bongorge shouldn’t give you more bother, at any rate—not now she thinks we’re actually planning the ceremony.”
Cornelia fought a wave of sickness. Goodness knew how she’d recover from this. In truth, there was only one outcome that would prevent her from becoming a pariah, and it was the one option that wasn’t on the table.
It was her own fault, of course, getting into this situation, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t entitled to feel angry with him.
Putting Minnie onto the floor, she brushed down her skirts and gave him her sternest expression. “Don’t you realize what’s going to happen? Once this reaches London, no one will come near me. Whatever hope I might have had of finding a husband will evaporate. People already say awful things about me, and they’ll be saying worse now. I’ll be a walking scandal.”
Burnell’s face softened. “I can see you’re upset, but it’s like I always said. Those rumours have been following you round the whole time, Cornelia. It’s time to own them and turn them to your advantage. Let them see the firecracker, remember?”
“Remind me, what sort of man I’m likely to attract from association with you, Mr. Burnell?”
“That depends; what sort of man do you want running after you?”
“I don’t wish for anyone to run,” Cornelia said. “If the right candidate came along, a sedate walk would do just fine.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Any man worth his salt should be sprinting in your direction, not merely walking, and I’d lay bets that none who’ve crossed your path so far are worthy.”
Cornelia narrowed her eyes. He made these sorts of comments far too readily, but she’d learnt not to take them at face value.
He picked at some fluff on his trouser leg. “And, you’re a widow, Cornelia. I hear there are different rules. You could take a lover if you wanted, or more than one. Have a ball; forget all about marriage.”
And there it was.
No mention of him caring for her. No hint that he might step up and whisk her away from all this chaos by actually making a real proposal. She knew this was only a game to him, but didn’t he realize she had feelings?
“It may surprise you but I’m not looking for casual affairs. I want a life partner; a soul mate. Someone whose kisses mean something.” She willed herself not to cry, to remain expressionless. “If bedding women like Mrs. Bongorge makes you happy, don’t let me detain you, but my guess is that you’re hollow inside, Burnell—that you’re dying little by little, and it’s because you’re afraid!”
That made him sit up, and he was no longer giving her that condescending smile—as if he knew everything and she was a simpleton unable to work out how to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.
Her pounding heart was making her ankle throb but she wasn’t going to hold back now. “That’s why you’ve been burying yourself in your work and why you’re going to run back to the wilderness. But digging into the ghosts of the ancients won’t expel that sadness. You’ll only escape it by creating something new; something that’s only yours.”
A shadow passed over Burnell’s face. “You’re doing a mighty fine job of preaching Nellie, but I don’t see you following your own advice, embracing a brave new future.”
“If you’d known my first husband…” Cornelia thought of a hundred things she might say, but she didn’t see why she should explain herself. Her problems were not Burnell’s. “I don’t wish to talk about him but the experience was sufficient to leave me with an unpleasant taste in my mouth.”
“And you thought kissing me would take that away for a while?” Burnell slapped his knee but there was no light-heartedness behind the gesture. “Well, I’m glad to have been of service. Perhaps you don’t need advice on that front after all.”
She moved her foot from the supporting stool and pushed herself up, using the cane resting beside. “Now you’re talking sense. It’s you who need guidance; not me. Something’s keeping you from opening your heart. You’re oblivious to what’s right in front of you, and you’re too cowardly, or too stubborn, to see.”
Her insult brought him to his feet, glaring fiercely. If it weren’t for the low table separating them, she wondered if he might shake her by the shoulders.
“You know nothing about me; nothing about the choices I’ve made.”
“That’s true,” countered Cornelia. “I hardly know anything at all, and I suspect it's because you prefer to sail through life pretending you don’t need anyone else. The great Ethan Burnell does just fine on his own!”
Their gazes met, his flashing fire.
A wave of heat passed over her—anger and something else. She was limp and shivering all at once. She’d said too much, laying herself bare with every word, and consumed by a sensual, maddening ache, overwhelmed with desire for his touch.
Could he see it in her face?
For the longest moment, he said nothing but she refused to prompt him. She wanted to tell him how much she cared but she couldn’t risk hearing that the way she felt about him was one sided.
When he did break the spell, a muscle was working in his jaw. “I think we’re clear now, Mrs. Mortmain. You don’t need me or my help. I won’t interfere or expect anything else of you. I brought you here to help me with this little ruse, not to fall in love.”