A Passion for Pleasure(13)
“I don’t wish to cause ill feelings between you,” Sebastian said, though it was clear such acrimony already lived between the two women. “I’ll tell my footman to—”
“No, Mr. Hall. I’ve said you are my guest, and my guest you shall remain. Mrs. Fox handles the museum’s accounts, but she has no authority in the running of the place.”
She spread her hands over the front of her dress. Uncertainty flashed in her violet-blue eyes for an instant, belying the confidence of her tone. “Well. Let us begin with the mechanical toys. My uncle sells them at the bazaar and gives them to children’s homes.”
She stepped forward to a shelf lined with toys and proceeded to show him how the turn of a key prompted a monkey to beat a tiny drum, a clown to whirl around a trapeze, a pair of geese to glide over a pond crafted of glass.
Rather in spite of himself, Sebastian was charmed by the movements of the little creatures, the delicacy of their painted faces, and costumes of bright ribbons and gauze.
“My uncle devotes most of his time to the larger automata, like Millicent,” Clara explained. “But he still derives great enjoyment from toys such as these. This one is my favorite. A colleague of Uncle Granville’s made it, which is why the musical element works well. Uncle Granville hasn’t yet perfected that in his own creations.”
She reached behind a flower-laced birdcage to twist a key, then stepped back. Two lemon-yellow canaries inside leapt from bar to bar as their beaks opened and closed in accompaniment to a melodious, chirping tune.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Clara asked. She smiled with evident pleasure as she watched the birds perform another dance.
“Indeed.”
Clara glanced up to find him watching her. Her smile faded into an expression of disconcertion, warmth again coloring her pale skin. She turned away from him, her hands twisting the folds of her skirt.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you my uncle’s workshop and the room where we display the larger automata,” she said.
They went into the foyer and past the redoubtable Mrs. Fox, who gave Sebastian another of her keen glances. He responded with an engaging smile that had the impact of a feather against stone, for all of Mrs. Fox’s reaction to it.
Pity, Sebastian thought. The older woman had thick-lashed eyes and fine, elegant features that might be quite pleasing if softened with even a scrap of affability.
As he followed Clara down another corridor, a pulse swept through his chest, diluting the anxiety that had plagued him since he’d discovered the unnerving disability of his right hand. Now pleasure subsumed that dismay, sparked by the anticipation of something new.
His instincts told him that Clara Winter was intrigued by him. That meant a few well-placed, sweet words and persuasive smiles would have her revealing what he wanted to know before the week’s end.
Five months ago, he’d have ensured she revealed it before the day’s end.
They entered a former library, larger than the music room and cluttered with gears, wires, and the entrails of various machines. Clara paused beside a metal-framed figure seated on a bench.
“My uncle is currently working on this,” she said, placing her hand on the curved bow of the top. “It’s to be a scribe writing at a desk. Uncle Granville is planning to have him write three different poems in both English and French.”
Sebastian lifted a brow. That sounded impressive, even to him. “He’s ambitious, your uncle.”
She didn’t respond, and for a moment he didn’t think she’d heard. He repeated the remark.
Clara glanced at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Your uncle. I said he was ambitious.”
“Yes. You spoke earlier, didn’t you?” She waved her hand beside her ear, as if batting at a pesky fly. “I don’t hear very well with my left ear, so if I’m turned away I sometimes miss things.”
Sebastian didn’t recall her having a hearing loss when she’d been his student. Then again, he reminded himself, he didn’t recall much about her at all. Shame flickered in the pit of his stomach.
“At any rate, yes,” Clara said. “Uncle Granville is constantly thinking of ways to make his inventions ever more complex and unique. His mentor was a very renowned toy and clockmaker. Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Monsieur Jacques Dupree?”
Sebastian made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Clara moved on to a different automaton.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak with my uncle to learn about the actual mechanics involved,” she said. “This one will be a couple dancing.”