At his nod, she approached and touched the surface with her fingertips. The smell filling the room wasn’t glue or preservative, but paint. “That’s what you were doing. I thought…”
“You believed I was up to no good, and you did what you thought you had to. I can hardly feel sore about it, and you being so brave. After all, if I were a varmint sneaking in here to vandalize or pilfer, I’d likely be armed.”
“I hadn’t considered that.” Cornelia rubbed at her temple. “It appears I’m more foolish than brave, and I’m the one who must apologize.”
She glanced back to where he stood. His head cocked on one side, he was surveying her in that disturbing way again—as if she were hiding something and he might ferret it out if he looked hard enough.
Not that she was in the habit of telling falsehoods, but she hadn’t been altogether truthful. After all, she didn’t exactly ‘work’ for the museum, her time being given voluntarily, and she certainly didn’t have permission to be inside this gallery.
All in all, she’d be wise to beat a retreat and hope Mr. Burnell didn’t report her transgression. Her position was fragile at best and Mr. Pettigrew would readily use the infraction against her. She could hear him already, telling the Board of Trustees that she was unsuited to continuing in the post her father had procured for her after Oswald died; that they’d indulged her long enough, and it was time she devoted herself to more feminine pursuits.
Despite his dishevelment and rather plain way of speaking, Mr. Burnell was undeniably handsome; and that deep, rich voice of his, which wrapped around one like a caress. It really was rather a shame that she needed to make her exit—but she knew she’d better leave while the going was good.
“Now that we’ve established you’re entitled to be here, and aren’t in need of tying up, or maiming of any sort, I’ll be on my way, Mr. Burnell.” Striding past him, she summoned her most cheerful smile. “A pleasure to meet and no harm done.”
Reaching the far end of the room, she swivelled for one final look back. He was frowning and, for a moment, she feared he would follow her. She held up her hand in protest. “No need to see me out. Please do carry on. Everyone is so looking forward to seeing the treasures when your gallery is ready, Mr. Burnell. Don’t let me detain you.” Without further ado, she made a dash for the basement stairs.
Only once she was out on Great Russell Street and climbing into a Hansom cab did she allow herself to breathe freely again. Throughout the entire fiasco, she had avoided revealing to Mr. Burnell her full identity—and thank Heavens for that small mercy!
But something else nagged at her.
Ethan...
None of her acquaintances bore that name and yet her tongue remembered it. The shape of it was already in her mouth.
The sun was high and the sky was blue and the sea was far off, leaving a great stretch of sand. The boy running ahead turned a cartwheel and gave a whoop and her little legs ran hard to keep up. She was calling his name and laughing.
Was it real? Or something she’d dreamt?
She gave herself a shake. All that mattered was keeping her head down. While Mr. Burnell was at the museum, she’d simply have to remain out of his way. Under no circumstances could there be a second meeting.
Chapter 3
Portman Square, London
Later that evening
Taking her usual seat in the drawing room, Cornelia eased back, careful not to spill from her coffee cup. She was certain that a bruise was coming on the upper half of her bottom. She’d have to apply some arnica cream before retiring to bed.
No sooner was she settled than the scruffy little Jack Russell at her feet leapt onto the sofa, placing her head in Cornelia’s lap. The dog looked up with beseeching eyes.
“Alright, Minnie. As long as you don’t wriggle.” Cornelia gave the terrier’s ears a rub. Minnie rolled promptly onto her back, presenting her tummy for more luxurious caresses.
Eustacia, seated closest to the hearth, lowered her copy of Madame Potins’ Nouvelles de la Société and cleared her throat. “My dears! The most delightful scandal! Cousin Cynthia has outdone herself!”
Cornelia paused in stroking Minnie’s soft ivory fur. “Really, Aunt, I do wish you wouldn’t persist in taking that horrible scandal sheet. Most of it is complete invention and the remainder none of our business. I know Cynthia likes to make herself the centre of attention but I’m sure she’s done nothing to warrant public censure.”
The old lady’s eyes glinted mischievously. “I rather wonder if Cynthia isn’t a deal more cunning that we gave her credit for. Apparently, she laid herself out on her husband's library desk, completely nude but for the family jewels. Not just the rubies but all of them at once, including the emerald tiara! And three footmen in attendance, serving her champagne when Lord Sturgeon walked in.”
Aunt Blanche spluttered on her whisky. “How uncouth! You’d think Cynthia would know better than to wear mixed gems, even for an informal occasion. Still, I’m hardly surprised. Cynthia’s taste has always been questionable.”
“One can hardly fault her taste in footmen though.” Eustacia gave a playful smirk. “She was promenading them quite shamefully at last month’s Whist gathering.”
“Why, yes! And the tightness of their breeches! The poor fellows must have been dreadfully uncomfortable, especially as she kept finding excuses to make them bend over.” Blanche licked her lips wistfully.
“You are both dreadful and should be very much ashamed!” Cornelia gave each of her aunts a disapproving glare. “Besides such comments regarding the male anatomy being crudely objectifying, you are treating the matter without the least portion of empathy. Cynthia must be beside herself with worry—and she’s been very kind to me; to all of us! I’ve no idea why she would behave in such an outrageous manner, but we must rally to her side.”
“Calm yourself, Cornelia.” Eustacia folded the paper in her lap. “I tend to forget that, despite your marriage to that awful man, you lack experience of these matters. Lord Sturgeon has been far too neglectful of his wife. Cynthia was merely reasserting herself to gain his attention. Jealousy is an emotion easily manipulated. Admittedly, when our dear cousin hinted at her intention, I had no idea she planned to be so inventive, but it appears her daring has paid off. Lord Sturgeon made a dreadful fuss at first but the two have since left for Paris—to patch things up.”
Cornelia felt her cheeks flushing. The passing of time had done little to dim the painful memory of her own appearance in Madame Potins’ pages. How anyone could seek to make a spectacle of themselves, encouraging lurid gossip, she couldn’t fathom. The more salacious the tidbit, the faster rumours travelled, and household staff could rarely be relied upon to be discreet.
“Well, as long as Lady Sturgeon isn’t in distress, it’s hardly my place to pass judgement.” Cornelia pursed her lips. “It’s commendable that Lord and Lady Sturgeon are making a go of things. I wish them well.”
“I say brava. Although rather thoughtless of her to break up our Whist Four at short notice.” Blanche gave a sly smile. “Perhaps we should enquire about the footmen. In light of what’s happened, they might be seeking employment elsewhere. I’m sure we could find something for them to do.”