The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(18)

But Lady Maribella must not have, for she gushed, “There’s a writer and a piano player, too. All three are positively amazing!”

“As opposed to negatively amazing, I suppose,” Edwin muttered under his breath as they followed at a more leisurely pace.

“Hush,” Clarissa chided, though she stifled a laugh. “She’s young.”

“You’re young. But you still know how to use the English language.”

“Why, Lord Blakeborough,” Clarissa said sweetly, “I do believe you’re giving me a compliment. You see? It’s not that difficult.”

“I never have trouble giving compliments to women I admire.”

Her pulse quickened. He admired her? Truly?

Miss Trevor had halted in front of them quickly enough to hear his last two words, which she pounced on. “What is it that you admire, Lord Blakeborough? Do tell.”

When Edwin frowned, Clarissa said hastily, “He was just saying how much he liked your gown, Miss Trevor. It’s a work of art.”

The young lady glanced to him as if for affirmation.

Edwin smiled blandly. “A work of art. Truly.”

“Why, thank you, my lord.” She cast him an assessing look, then hurried off to whisper in Lady Maribella’s ear.

“A work of the worst art I’ve ever seen,” Edwin muttered.

“Edwin!” Clarissa hissed.

“Don’t tell me you like that riot of stripes and plaids and atrocious ribbons.”

She paused, torn between confessing the truth and discouraging his bluntness. But she didn’t want him to think her utterly brainless. “I’ll admit that her gown is . . . rather unfortunate.”

“‘Rather unfortunate’ is kinder than it deserves.”

“True.” She nudged him. “And yet, the two ladies are now regarding you with more fondness, are they not?”

Indeed, Miss Trevor and Lady Maribella were having quite the whispered conversation across the room, punctuated by furtive looks of interest at Edwin.

He rolled his eyes. “That’s only because you lied to Miss Trevor, which I will never do.”

“You don’t have to. Just look for the good things in her, in all of them, and focus on those. Surely you can find one good thing to compliment in every woman you meet.”

“I doubt it.”

“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.

“Now you 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.”