Chapter 8 #4
Two nights after the discovery of the attempt to steal the plans, after Flora had retired, Felicia remained in her sitting room, determined to complete her letters to her cousins. She lost track of the time, then Johnson tapped and looked in.
The butler smiled when he saw her. “You’re late, Miss Felicia.”
She glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly eleven o’clock. “Good gracious.” She looked at the letter she was writing. “I’ll just finish this page, then go up.”
Johnson smiled benignly, then circled the room, checking that the windows had been locked.
Felicia laid down her pen with a sigh and looked up. “A last and final check?” Johnson usually did his final check soon after he wheeled the tea tray away.
“Indeed, miss. Given the circumstances, one cannot be too careful, and I have to admit I sleep a lot easier if I check the locks late.”
She nodded. “No blame to you. As whoever wishes to break in and steal the plans or sabotage the invention has presumably learned that the workshop doors cannot be forced, then it must surely be on the cards that they might attempt to gain access through a door or window on this level and make their way down to the workshop.”
Johnson somewhat diffidently remarked, “Lord Cavanaugh did canvass that possibility with me. It seems you and he think alike, miss.”
She smiled. “That’s not really surprising. We’re both committed to ensuring this invention remains safe all the way to the exhibition, and as you know, William John is somewhat…”
“Absentminded?” Johnson smiled. “Indeed, miss. But a very clever gentleman, nonetheless.”
Felicia allowed her smile to grow and inclined her head. “As you say, Johnson.” Seeing he had completed his circuit of the room’s windows, she said, “I’ll be going up momentarily. You can turn down the lights elsewhere.”
“Yes, miss.” Johnson bowed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Felicia remained in the chair by the escritoire and let her mind wander—first to assessing the steps they’d taken to secure the Hall, searching for any weakness and finding none, then to the revelations of recent days and the changes those revelations had wrought.
Eventually, with the house settling to nighttime quiet about her, she rose, turned off the twin sconces she’d had burning, and made for the door.
She opened it and stepped into the front hall, shutting the panel quietly behind her.
As per her instructions, Johnson had turned the two small sconces in the hall and the one on the stair landing to their lowest setting; they cast the faintest of pale glows, just enough for someone like her, familiar with the house, to be sure of their way. She started toward the stairs.
She was halfway to them—exposed in the very center of the open expanse of tiled floor—when she heard a boot scrape on stone.
On the stone of the stairs leading up from the workshop.
Before her mind registered the oddity of any intruder coming up the workshop stairs, her heart started to race.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she swung toward the door to the stairs in time to see it slowly open.
A figure appeared in the doorway. Male, tall, powerfully built.
Even in the poor light, she recognized those shoulders. At some level beyond that of normal senses, she recognized him.
Her heart leapt and raced again—this time, for a very different reason.
She exhaled in relief and smiled. “Rand. Checking the guards?”
He tipped his head as he walked toward her. “That, and checking your brother’s masterpiece of an alarm system. It’s quite ingenious.”
He drew level with her, and she turned. Side by side, they continued toward the stairs, with him shortening his stride to accommodate hers.
“And you? This is later than usual for you, I think?”
She waved toward the sitting room. “I was writing letters and forgot the time.” Ruefully, she glanced at him. “Thank you for checking the alarm. Sadly, William John doesn’t possess a practical bone in his body—he would never think to do it.”
Rand shrugged, those wonderfully wide shoulders shifting fluidly beneath his well-cut coat. Amusement ran beneath his words as he said, “I’ve worked with quite a few inventors in recent years. None are what you could term ‘practically minded.’”
She smiled. “I suppose it’s an upshot of single-minded focus.”
“Indeed. So it seems.”
Wreathed in shadows, they started up the stairs, and she felt his gaze on her face, not intent so much as assessing.
“I have to say,” he murmured, “that the three of us complement each other in a rather unique way. William John is unquestionably a whizz at mechanical construction—he truly is your father’s heir in that way.
You, meanwhile, provide the essential insights into design—without your input, for all his brilliance, William John wouldn’t have been able to solve the problems the improvements to the power of the engine caused. ”
When he didn’t go on, smiling, she prompted, “And you?”
“I,” he stated, “arrange the finance, but in this case, I’ve also been pressed into a role I’ve never had the chance to fill before, that of managing the project—doing whatever’s needed to facilitate William John’s efforts and also ensuring the project remains secure.”
She glanced at his face; his features were calm, his expression at ease and assured. “Have you enjoyed the managing?”
Slowly, he nodded. “Far more than I would have imagined.” He glanced at her and, in the faint light, met her eyes. He smiled. “I’ve come to see William John’s subterfuge, which was what got me involved and us all to this point, as a boon.”
She chuckled. “In that, we’re something of a pair. As I told you several nights ago, being brought into the project as I have been has…widened my horizons in a way I had no idea was even possible.”
Rand felt satisfaction well within him—fueled by his delight in his new role and even more by her pleasure in hers. They reached the landing and turned to continue up the next flight, and he asked, “What about William John?”
Her reply came instantly. “I have never, ever, seen my brother so…simply happy. He loves what he does, but I suspect he’s never felt so free to simply be himself, with others he trusts to manage everything around him.”
Rand grinned. “You to manage the house and assist him as required, me to manage the project, and William John free to simply build machines.”
“Exactly.”
Emboldened by the ease he sensed between them, he ventured, “And what about you?” He glanced at her and through the dimness met her eyes. “Are you happier, too?”
Her lips curved, and she looked ahead. “Indubitably. I feel more settled than I’ve felt…possibly ever. I had no idea I’d retained enough of what I must have absorbed in my early years to contribute to any invention as I am, much less that I would find that activity so rewarding.”
His satisfaction welled and overflowed. Knowing she was content set the seal on his own contentment.
After several seconds, she said, “Amazing though it seems looking back on the confusion from which we started, it’s all coming together, isn’t it?”
If he’d been at all superstitious, he wouldn’t have replied, but given their recent advances, he felt they were entitled to hold to hope.
“Yes. It’s been something of a scramble, but it is, indeed, coming together nicely.
There are only the final tests to run, then we can install the engine into the carriage and be on our way to the exhibition. ”
They reached the head of the stairs, and she made a soft scoffing sound. “It’ll never be that easy.”
He inclined his head. “True. But we can hope.”
She chuckled. Deeper shadows engulfed them as they walked around the gallery and on into the corridor that led to their rooms.