Page 22 of The Study of Seduction

“Try.”

Lady Anne and Lady Jane were joining Miss Trevor and Lady Maribella now, and the four approached Clarissa and Edwin with coy smiles. “So, what do you think of the automatons, Lady Clarissa?” Lady Anne asked.

“I don’t know,” Clarissa said. “I must see them up close.”

She and Edwin approached the trio of mechanisms roped off from the room: a young lady who played what was actually an organ, judging from the bellows attached; a boy who drafted images; and another boy who wrote on real paper using real ink and quill. Each was only slightly smaller than a real child, and all were perfectly proportioned. The placard for them read,THE MUSICIAN, THE DRAUGHTSMAN, AND THE WRITER, BY MONSIEUR JAQUET-DROZ.

Edwin nodded to a fellow behind the velvet rope, and the man obligingly wound up the clockwork writer, who began to pen what appeared to be a letter.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Lady Maribella gushed as she followed the automaton’s quill with her gaze.

Edwin murmured in Clarissa’s ear, “It would be far more amazing if he wrote something worth reading.”

Clarissa whispered, “Say that again, only loud enough for them to hear.”

He frowned at her, but said in a voice that carried, “It would be far more impressive if he wrote a treatise on physics.”

The ladies tittered.

“Nowyou have their attention,” Clarissa said under her breath. When he arched an eyebrow, she raised her voice and asked, “What is your opinion of that figure?” She pointed to the draughtsman, who was drawing an intricate image.

“Have you noticed what he’s sketching?” Edwin asked.

That prompted the rest of them to go and watch until the automaton completed its work.

“It’s a carriage being driven by Cupid and pulled by a butterfly,” Edwin supplied as the ladies were still trying to make it out. “A nonsensical drawing, to be sure. Why would Cupid use a carriage instead of just flying off himself to do whatever he wishes?”

“Perhaps he’s tired,” Lady Maribella said.

“Or simply not very bright,” Edwin said.

Miss Trevor’s eyes gleamed. “Exactly, my lord. And how does one harness a butterfly, anyway? Only think how tiny and gossamer the reins would have to be.”

“And then they wouldn’t be strong enough to haul a carriage,” Edwin pointed out.

Lady Maribella tipped up her chin. “You two have no imagination. I think it’s a very pretty sketch.”

“As do I,” Clarissa said soothingly to the young woman. “Very whimsical.”

Edwin eyed her askance.

Miss Trevor caught that and grinned. “What do you think of the musician, my lord?”

“The clockwork is ingenious. I believe that Jaquet-Droz used a series of cams with . . .” When Clarissa frowned at him, Edwin released an exasperated breath, then finished sulkily, “It’s very intricate.”

“Look there!” Lady Anne said, pointing at the rise and fall of the mechanism’s chest. “She even breathes, as if she’s alive.”

“Lots of things breathe,” Edwin snapped. “An altar may breathe ‘ambrosial odors,’ but that doesn’t mean it will walk out of the temple.”

The ladies started, then giggled.

“Why, Lord Blakeborough,” Miss Trevor said, taking his other arm with a melting smile, “you are surprisingly droll.”

Edwin appeared nonplussed. Clarissa was certain no one had ever called him droll, and his comical expression made her bite back a smile.

“Tell me, sir,” Clarissa said, “isn’t that line about the ‘ambrosial odors’ fromParadise Lost?”

His gaze swung back to her. “I thought you only read gothic novels.”