“Good Heavens!” Lady Pippsbury looked utterly taken aback.
Cornelia’s heart had been beating progressively faster. Now, it threatened to leap from her body altogether.
Burnell was obviously enjoying seeing her squirm.
Pinned down indeed!
Staring boldly across the table, he raised his voice just enough that no one would have trouble hearing. “Mrs. Mortmain is no ordinary woman. No siree! She’s as fearless as a tiger.”
Cornelia was aware that the room had grown quiet.
Mrs. Bongorge looked as if she’d just eaten something unpalatable.
Lady Pippsbury’s left brow was twitching.
All ears were Burnell’s, and all eyes were upon him. He gave her one of his half-quirked smiles. “How lucky can a man get! True love only comes once in a lifetime they say, and here I am gettin’ the chance to discover what I’ve been missing all these years.”
Twenty pairs of eyes swivelled to land upon Cornelia instead.
“Love?” Lady Pippsbury’s voice emerged as a squeak. “But you’ve only been in the country five minutes. You can’t be in love!”
“Childhood sweethearts, ma’am.” He raised his glass, in toast, to Cornelia. “Here’s to the woman who has won my heart.”
“Marvellous news, Burnell.” As the duke raised his own, everyone followed suit. “To true love!”
“And fearless tigers,” added Blanche, with only the faintest of hiccups.
Cornelia emptied her glass in one great swig.
Chapter 8
Cornelia was relieved, at least, that throughout the following courses of luncheon, the baron made no further attempt to paw her. No doubt, he was rendered speechless by Burnell’s tall tales of her exemplary horsemanship (she’d only attempted once, and had hardly kept in the saddle), of her keen marksmanship (she’d never held a gun) and her purported importance at the British Museum (Mr. Pettigrew would have a conniption).
As they drifted out afterwards, Cornelia’s aunts steered her to a quiet corner of the drawing room and Burnell meandered over.
“That went swell, don’t you think? There was a helluvva lot more I coulda told ‘em, but it was a good start.”
Cornelia clenched her fists. “You’ve said more than enough. Your nose ought to be a foot long by now. If you don’t mind, I—”
“Stop right there, sweet pea.” He had the audacity to place a finger against her lips. “You’re rightly overwhelmed. But save whatever you’re thinking until you’ve calmed yourself. It’s never a good idea to speak in haste.”
Looking far too pleased with himself, he gave her a wink. “Studborne’s planning a folly or somesuch for Rosamund’s birthday and wants me to take a look at the plans, but we can rendezvous later—let’s say the library. I’ve not found it yet but a place like this is sure to have one.”
“I’m sure it has.” Cornelia bit her tongue. “Very well, but I’d appreciate you not reminiscing any further on our courtship until we’ve had a chance to confer.”
“Anything for you, my love.” He kissed her hand in just the way the duke had done for the duchess. “But remember to play your part, Cornelia. We’ve a deal, which entails you appearing enchanted by my company, being madly in love and all. You’ll only be happy when everyone else melts away, leaving us alone to canoodle.”
She gritted her teeth and gave him what she hoped was a withering look. “I’ll do my best to employ my acting skills, but you must rein in your storytelling. If I decide to be interested in any of the men here, I don’t want them thinking I’m a lunatic.”
“No sweat, Nellie. I’ve already conducted an appraisal, and none of them are right for you. The best you can hope for is for them to admire from afar and spread news of your dazzling charm when they return to roaming free in London Society. Then, you can watch the invitations roll in.”
“Urgh!” She wrenched her hand away. “You’re impossible—and don’t call me Nellie. I’m Mrs. Mortmain, thank you.”
Laughing softly, he gave a small bow to each of her aunts and moved on.
As soon as he’d departed, Blanche and Eustacia were all questions.
“My dear. I’d no notion your talents were so varied. You never mentioned winning the amateur ladies’ pistol contest in Hyde Park. You’re far too modest, darling. No wonder Mr. Burnell is infatuated.” Blanche gave her arm a squeeze.
Eustacia was just as excited. “I always knew you were clever, Cornelia—but I’d no idea you were part of a secret team working on deciphering the Rosetta Stone. Utterly thrilling!”
Cornelia suppressed a groan. Burnell would be convincing them she’d done a stint with the Drury Lane Theatre unless she had strong words with him.
“Flattered as I am that you believe me capable, I must remind you of Mr. Burnell’s plan. It’s all an invention, remember; his ridiculous theory that no one will care about my dubious history if I appear interesting enough in the present.” Cornelia rubbed her temples. “Except that he’s going too far. No one’s going to believe this nonsense—and if I substantiate anything he says, I’ll be complicit. It’s all getting out of hand.”
Blanche’s disappointment was palpable. “All untrue? Even the bit about helping the Royal Opera House with authenticating their sets for Aida?”
“It appears so, dear.” Eustacia patted Blanche’s hand. “Best that we leave Cornelia to herself, perhaps. She has much to ponder…and Colonel Faversham mentioned something about a hand of whist.”
“Oh yes!” Blanche perked up a bit. “We’ll catch up later then, darling—and we’ll want all the juiciest details.”
How Cornelia wished it were not still snowing. When she needed to think, a brisk walk seemed to help in sorting whatever jumble occupied her mind. Besides which, Minnie needed a breath of air herself.
Burnell had been right about one thing, at least. What she wished to say to him shouldn’t be said in anger, and certainly not in a public place. If she was going to tear him off a strip, a closed door would be necessary.
Minnie gave an aroooo as soon as Cornelia entered her room, jumping about friskily as her mistress shrugged on her coat and outdoor shoes.
“We’ll take you outside for a few minutes, Minnie. Now, you must walk nicely beside me. No running off.” In answer, one canine tongue gave Cornelia’s palm a lick, and four legs fell into step beside two.
Cornelia was relieved to find that she was more easily remembering her way and they were soon back in the grand entrance hall. With the opening of the main door, a gust of chill air swept in and a flurry of snow but Minnie wasn’t in the least perturbed. Cornelia was left with a parting view of a fluffy behind as the terrier made a dash for freedom.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, Minnie launched herself along the path, achieving the far end in a matter of moments and disappearing round the side of the house, in pursuit of liberty.
Dreadful dog! And my fault entirely for not teaching her better manners.
Hurrying behind, Cornelia was in time to see her take a flying leap into a pile of heaped snow. From within the powdery hillock came excited yapping then a panting face appeared, bearded in white flakes.