The Iron Duchess: A Steam and High Society Tale

The brass automaton serving tea possessed more grace than half the ladies present at the Pemberton salon, Lady Cordelia Ashwick observed with wry amusement. She watched as the mechanical marvel glided between clusters of chattering guests, its copper joints moving with fluid precision as it offered delicate porcelain cups from its silver tray. The device's emerald optical lenses rotated to focus on each guest in turn, a soft whirring emanating from somewhere within its brass chest cavity.

"Marvelous contraption, is it not?" Lord Pemberton appeared at her elbow, his chest puffed with pride. "Had it commissioned from the finest artificer in London. Cost me a fortune, but worth every penny to see the expressions on their faces."