Meeks’s Mechanical Museum had probably never seen such an influx of people. But having been appropriated by Lady Maribella’s parents for her eighteenth birthday, it was overrun with the beau monde in full flower, oohing and ahhing over such creations as a tiny clockwork coach drawn by two horses, and a mechanical flute player, which, once wound up, entertained an entire room.
Clarissa turned her attention to Edwin, who was frowning as he observed a mechanical spider in its advance forward. “You don’t look very pleased,” she said. “I’d think you’d be delirious at being able to attend a social occasion you can actually enjoy for once.”
“I would be happier if Meeks had added anything new since the last time I was here.”
“When was that?”
“Two months ago. I brought the lads.”
Ah yes, from Preston Charity School for Boys, which Edwin supported. Thanks to Yvette, Clarissa and her mother had given to the cause more than once themselves. “I’m sure they enjoyed it immensely.”
“They seemed to. They usually do.”
“Usually? How often do you come here, for pity’s sake?”
He shrugged. “A few times a year. More, if I hear that there’s something new. It provides an excellent counterpoint to the lads’ lessons in physics and mathematics.”
“And I suppose you also get ideas for your own creations,” she teased.
A faint smile crossed his lips. “That, too.”
“One day I hope to see these automatons of yours.”
“So you can mock my endeavors the way Yvette does? No, thank you.”
She patted his arm. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You’ve spent the past three days critiquing my manner of speech, my behavior toward ladies, and my opinions. I can hardly see why you would stop at mocking my favorite pastime.”
“If you would actually pay attention to my criticisms,” she said with a sniff, “I’d have no need to continue them.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I doubt that. I suspect that you enjoy giving directions.”
“Only when they’re heeded.”
“I heed them when I can. But I doubt I will ever succeed in making my manner of speech ‘amiable’ enough to satisfy your stringent requirements.” His voice hardened. “And I am not going to alter my opinions about life and the world simply to acquire a wife.”
“I don’t want you to alter them. Just don’t voice them to ladies.”
“So I can surprise my wife on our wedding night when she finds out what I really think? That hardly seems a good plan.”
She huffed out a frustrated breath. “You’re the one who asked me to help you. I assumed that it meant you would accept my help.”
He cursed under his breath. “I’m trying.” With a glance about the room, he changed the subject. “At least there’s no sign of Durand. For a while there, he seemed to be at every event we attended.”
And Edwin had bared his teeth every time the man had ventured near her. Indeed, the earl’s fierce protectiveness toward her had come as a shock. He’d never before seemed to care so deeply about what happened to her.
“Perhaps your plan is working,” she said.
“Or he’s plotting a more indirect way to get to you.”
A shiver swept over her before she could suppress it. It infuriated her. She’d worked for years to put her fear behind her, to fight off the bad dreams and the nervousness. Now, that dratted Durand threatened to overset all her hard-won control.
She refused to let him. “Lord, I hope he’s abandoned his interest. If he hasn’t, it will send Mama into even more of a ‘spell’ than she’s in at present.”
Her mother had begged to be excused from this party because she was having one of her “spells.” Privately, Clarissa had suspected that Mama was simply trying to allow her and Edwin a chance to be alone, but Clarissa had said nothing to him about it and merely asked that they take his open phaeton for propriety’s sake.
Miss Trevor and Lady Maribella hurried up to them. “Have you seen the boy draughtsman who draws sketches, Lady Clarissa?” Miss Trevor asked. “You must come look at it! It’s in the next room.”
The women tried to pull Clarissa away from Edwin, but she grabbed his arm. “His lordship and I will both come. He’s very knowledgeable about automatons. Perhaps he can give us some idea of how they work.”
“That would be wonderful,” Miss Trevor said without enthusiasm as she led the way into the other room. Clearly, the woman knew his reputation for being blunt and reticent.
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.”