Page 67 of The Study of Seduction

Delighted beyond words, Clarissa removed it from the box. “She looks like a performer. What exactly does she do?”

“Try it and find out.”

After Clarissa wound it up, a lively tune played and the lady in breeches began to twirl and dip, to lift her arms and lower them in a most elaborate dance.

“Ohhh,” she breathed. “She’slovely.”

“Yes,” he said. “She is.”

Clarissa glanced up to find him watching her face with that heated look that made her hands grow clammy and her cheeks hot. She jerked her gaze back to the automaton.

Suddenly the figure stopped. Was it broken? Had it already wound down? Then the lady stuck out her tongue.

Clarissa burst into laughter, even more enthralled. “Now,thatis one cheeky dancer,” she said as the figure repeated the dance again.

“Very much like the woman she’s based upon,” he said.

“Based upon?” Clarissa looked more closely at the dancing lady and noticed that her waistcoat had a particular design, as did the hat. Both were the same as in the costume Clarissa had worn to the masquerade last year.

She gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did.”

“It’sme? But when could you . . . how could you . . . I mean, surely you didn’t have time to create it in the past day or so.”

“I made it nearly a year ago, because Yvette wanted to give you something special last Christmas. She used a fashion doll and dictated every aspect of the attire. Then I altered the figure to suit. But I couldn’t get it completed in time for Christmas, so Yvette had to choose you another present. Since then, it has sat in my study. I was going to ask my sister if she still wanted to give it to you, but then you wanted one and . . .”

“It’s wonderful. And I suppose it does look a bit like me.”

“But not as pretty. I can’t work miracles, after all.”

She cast him a coy look. “That’s two compliments in less than an hour. You’re turning into a veritable flatterer, Edwin.”

“I shall have to chastise you for something right away,” he drawled. “Wouldn’t want you to grow complacent.”

With a chuckle, she returned to examining the automaton. As the dancer wound down, she peered beneath the waistcoat, trying to glimpse the mechanism.

“She has a hidden secret,” he said, after a moment.

“Does she? Where?”

“See if you can find it.”

Clarissa looked all around the figure, but she was afraid to move too many parts for fear of breaking it. “At least give me a hint.”

He crossed to Clarissa’s side of the carriage and drew off his gloves. Taking Clarissa’s finger and placing it beneath the back of the voluminous hat, he had her press up on the brim from beneath. A cascade of golden tresses fell out of the hat and down to the figure’s waist.

“Oh!” she said. “That’s marvelous!”

He twined one finger about the hair. “That night at the masquerade I kept hoping your hair would fall out of your hat, and I would finally get a glimpse of it unpinned.”

With a catch in her throat, she looked up at him. He sat so close now, his eyes shimmering in the fading light of dusk and his breath wafting over her.

Then he added, in a husky voice, “I would give anything to see your hair down.”

She swallowed convulsively. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” she managed through a throat suddenly gone dry.

With his gaze boring into hers, he took the automaton from her and placed it on the seat behind him, then began to remove the pins from her coiffure.