Chapter 7 #6
After a moment, she glanced his way. “It seems we share the experience of having been influenced by the actions of one of our parents to the point that our reactions propelled us down our respective paths.”
He thought about that, then murmured, “Perhaps. But we differ in that, while my reaction to my mother’s scheming pushed me into investing in inventions—an occupation that fulfills me, and with which I’m increasingly content—your reaction to your father’s shortcomings has kept you out of inventing and inventions, an arena in which you plainly are able to make real and meaningful contributions. ”
He didn’t say more. Didn’t elaborate on the contrast, but instead, left her to think it through and see that truth for herself.
After several moments of considering his words, Felicia murmured an agreement. He was right. Inventing and inventions and the contributions she might make… The prospect elicited a response from deep inside that was nine parts eager excitement and one part pure desire.
She wasn’t sure what she felt about that. Turning assumptions about herself on their head left her mentally dizzy—uncertain of her footing.
They’d walked down the lawn and around to the terrace. As she raised her skirts and, still leaning on his arm, climbed the steps, she was aware of a certain expectation in the air—of this being a moment in time when her life was poised on the cusp of a new direction.
Exactly what that direction might be, where it might lead, and what it might hold…that, she had yet to learn.
Rand halted outside the drawing room door. She drew her arm from his and faced him.
Through the enfolding shadows, he looked into her eyes.
And she looked into his.
Finally, he said, his voice deep and low, “It seems that both of us have, indeed, been working our way out of the emotional coils generated by one of our parents—working to define ourselves, to define our paths into the future.”
“From all you’ve said, you’ve advanced further than I have. I’m…” She hesitated, but they’d passed the point of being cautious. “After the revelations of recent days, I feel I’m only just starting my journey.”
It was a catharsis of sorts, to speak so openly to another who understood.
Rand quietly asked, “Did you enjoy it—helping William John see his way to solving his problems?”
She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, I did. It was…invigorating. As if I was stretching a muscle I hadn’t used in years.”
“Did you feel the lure—the one I know all true inventors feel? Did it feel right—that it was right and proper? Did it feel as if you have a place in inventing?”
“Yes.” Her reply came so quickly, he knew he’d touched on something she truly had experienced. She went on, “At least to your first question. As for the others…” She frowned. Even though he couldn’t see her eyes, he knew she was looking inward.
Then she shook her head and met his gaze. “I can’t yet say. I’ll have to take them under advisement.”
They were alone in the night, standing close.
He felt the tug of attraction, of building desire, a tangible sensation that pushed him to shift closer still—to draw her to him.
They’d both spoken openly of things they had—he felt quite sure—never revealed to any other. They’d started, deliberately, down the path of understanding each other better than anyone else in the world.
The temptation to take the next step—to draw her into his arms and set his lips to hers—thudded in his blood.
He teetered on that indefinable edge, but held his breath and braced against it—achingly aware of the compulsion, but not yet willing to take the plunge and risk…
any sort of awkwardness that might drive her from the workshop she’d only so recently reentered or strain the cooperation he now knew to his soul he needed from her if the Throgmorton engine was ever to see success.
Was it wrong to put that in the scales? To weigh his responsibility to all the others against what he felt for her?
Regardless, his voice lower still, a touch of gravel in his tone, he said, “Promise me you’ll tell me when you learn the answers.”
Felicia held his gaze and felt his words resonate deep inside. Tension had risen between them—but this wasn’t a tension she’d felt before. This tension excited. Tempted and lured.
But he made no move, and she told herself she was grateful for that. They’d met only five days before. Surely that was too short a time to have developed a meaningful connection. And yet…there they were.
In the dark of the night with secrets already spoken and shared.
Still holding his gaze, she inclined her head and stepped back from the lure. “Goodnight.” Her voice had lowered to a sultry tone.
Her nerves leapt and prickled as she turned, opened the French doors, and slipped into the drawing room.
As she crossed the shadowed space, absentmindedly avoiding the furniture, she told herself she was deeply glad he’d refrained from reaching for her; if he had, God alone knew what she might have done.
She passed through the open drawing room door and walked slowly into the front hall. She’d been kissed before, been waltzed and wooed, yet nothing had prepared her for Randolph Cavanaugh and his effect on her senses, her wits—on her will.
Nothing had prepared her for her own desire—no other man had ever evoked it. She’d never before had to deal with this sparkling compulsion.
Yet another novel and unexpected twist in her new direction—courtesy of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh.
Rand stood on the night-shrouded terrace and let Felicia walk away from him.
He waited—not thinking, not allowing his mind to speculate—until he felt enough time had elapsed for her to have gained her room.
Only then did he haul in a deeper breath, shove his hands into his pockets, and turn to look out over the south lawn.
The silvered expanse remained empty.
Lips setting, he opened the door through which Felicia had gone, stepped inside, then snibbed the lock.
He checked the second pair of French doors and found them already locked.
Satisfied that he could trust Johnson to have seen to the rest of the house—the butler must have glimpsed Rand and Felicia outside and left the French doors, the pair most often used by his mistress to go outside, unlocked—Rand followed Felicia’s trail across the darkened room and up the stairs.
Her room lay opposite his, her door a few paces farther down the corridor. He hesitated, vacillating in the darkness between his door and hers; on hearing no sounds from her room, he turned and entered his.
He hadn’t bothered to leave a light burning. After shutting the door, he crossed to the uncurtained window and stood looking, unseeing, at the dark shapes of the trees in the woods.
In retrospect, he’d been a coward to allow that moment on the terrace to pass. He should have seized the chance when it offered and trusted to Fate to see him right.
At least it was only a step forward he hadn’t taken; he hadn’t lost any ground. He would continue onward—and hope his moment of strategic caution wouldn’t be one he would come to regret.