Suddenly she was a child again, gazing up at the magnificent clock that marked the heart of the Winter Garden. Its design resembled the cuckoo clocks of Germany’s Black Forest, except it was made entirely from ice. Intricate carvings of leaves, birds and stags’ heads adorned the façade, sparkling in the frosted moonlight. A swinging pendulum ticked and tocked beneath it, counting out the minutes remaining until the garden would vanish for the day. Beatrice had grown to love that clock, for its chimes were always the first indication she had of the garden’s arrival for the night. But the thing she loved most of all was the mechanical bird that called out the hours. It was no cuckoo, but a dazzling clockwork peacock.

Beatrice looked up at her friend, a sudden surge of excitement making her fingertips tingle. ‘Have you s-seen it t-too?’ she whispered.

‘Seen what?’ Rosa asked.

‘The W-Winter Garden! You re-created the p-peacock from its c-clock.’

‘Honey, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Rosa replied, looking mildly offended. ‘The peacock is my own design. I don’t imitate other people’s work. You know that. I made you a peacock because you asked me about them once, remember? Shortly after we first met?’

Beatrice frowned as she recalled their conversation about the clockwork creatures. Rosa had been permitted to study mechanics within the family business back in Georgia, and later in New York, and was now one of the best artificers that Warren’s Clockwork Creatures had. Since her arrival in England she’d received more commissions than she could accept, for everything from clockwork monkeys to songbirds. Every fashionable upper-class lady wanted one.

‘You looked quite disappointed when I said I hadn’t made one,’ Rosa went on. ‘So I thought you might like one.’

Beatrice tried to gather herself. This wasn’t the moment to be thinking about the Winter Garden. And now that she looked more closely at the peacock, she could see that it did not resemble the other one as much as she’d thought after all.

‘He is quite w-wonderful,’ she said. ‘But I regret I c-cannot accept.’

‘Why in the world not?’ Rosa asked.

‘I’m c-c-calling it off. The w-w-wedding.’ Beatrice felt annoyed that her worsening stammer betrayed her nerves. She so badly wanted to do it, but it was impossible to ignore that the consequences would be grave, especially now that the guests were all assembled outside. Eustace would be humiliated and both their reputations would suffer, although Beatrice would come off worse. There would certainly be a scandal, and endless recriminations from her family and his. It would be a truly shocking thing to do, by anyone’s standards.