The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

by Stephanie Laurens

  Ryder and Mary returned, joining her and Mayhew in the relatively uncrowded space behind the exhibit.

  As she exchanged a smile with Mary, Felicia felt a sense of peaceful calm—a recognition of pending contentment—steal over her. They had done it—they’d succeeded in all they had come there hoping to achieve. After all the ups and downs, the near-disasters, and after staring down looming failure, they’d made their mark in a way none of them had even dared to dream.

  Despite Winthrop’s attempts at sabotage, everything had turned out resoundingly, amazingly, astonishingly well.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, the urgent interest in the Throgmorton steam carriage had abated to a level such that Rand felt able to leave William John to handle the inquiries on his own.

  After asking Shields for her direction, Rand found Felicia with Ryder, Mary, and Mayhew behind the steam carriage. When he insisted he needed to spend some time examining the other exhibits with Felicia, the other three waved them on, then fell in behind them, ambling and chatting in their wake.

  They avoided the knot of people still gathered about the Prince, who had almost completed his circuit of the hall. As Rand steered Felicia toward the inventions Albert had examined before reaching the Throgmorton display, he heard Mary quizzing Mayhew. It appeared that, having understood that Mayhew was talented—both Felicia and Rand had mentioned the quality of his work—Mary had also realized that Mayhew was in need of a patron.

  Rand glanced over his shoulder and met Ryder’s gaze and was allowed to briefly glimpse an expression of long-suffering resignation. Grinning, Rand faced forward. Both he and Ryder knew where Mary was heading, but, all in all, there was no reason to rein her back.

  Rand had his own female brain to pick; he guided Felicia to an invention he’d glimpsed earlier—a novel alteration to a printing press. “What do you think?” he asked.

  She moved forward to examine the exhibit.

  The inventor recognized Rand, but was quick enough to sense that Rand was waiting on Felicia’s opinion; despite her being a lady, the inventor sidled closer and, when she pointed and asked questions, gave her his undivided attention.

  Eventually, Felicia smiled and thanked the older man, then rejoined Rand.

  She took his arm and surreptitiously pushed; he nodded to the inventor and led her on. Once they’d left the exhibit behind, he dipped his head and asked, “No?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fairly certain the weight of the upper panel will very soon wear out the gears—there simply isn’t enough support for moving that much weight. Ten passes—maybe as many as a hundred—then the gears will give and the upper plate will collapse onto the lower. That’s not a commercial proposition.”

  Looking ahead, Rand smiled to himself, murmured in agreement, and led her on.

  Somewhat to his surprise, she diverted to look at an invention he hadn’t thought warranted their attention. It was still in the early stage of development and seemed to be a different sort of loom. He stuck to Felicia’s side and, by listening to her questions and the inventor’s eager answers, realized it was a knitting machine.

  Felicia and the inventor went back and forth for some time. Eventually, Felicia thanked the man.

  Rand nodded a farewell as Felicia retook his arm. Once they were strolling again, he asked, “Is that a project in which we should consider investing?”

  Faintly puzzled, she glanced at him. “We?”

  He met her gaze, but they’d drawn level with the crowd around the Prince and now was not the time. “I’ll explain later, but there’s a proposition I would like to put to you, one I hope you’ll find attractive.” He smiled. “A proposition other than marriage—or rather”—he hurriedly amended—“in addition to marriage.”

  “Oh?” She was intrigued.

  Before she asked for more details, he waved at the displays across the hall. “At the moment, we’re here, and so are all these inventors and inventions—we need to learn what we can, while we can.”

  She dipped her head in acknowledgment, despite her curiosity—or perhaps because of that—ready enough to fall in with that suggestion. As they wended their way across the aisle to the other side of the hall, she murmured, “To return to your earlier question, I do think the knitting machine is worth a closer look. He’ll need to make changes to that assembly of pins, and the gears need a better degree of control, but I definitely believe it holds promise.”

  “If the results are what he claims, then there should be a market for both the invention and its product here and in other countries, too.”

  She inclined her head. “One would imagine so.”

  He’d already noted that she tended to evaluate inventions on the basis of whether they could be made to perform properly, rather than in terms of financial return. Luckily, the latter was something for which he possessed a knack. He steered her on to the next exhibit. “What about this one?”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, the deeply resonant bong of a gong rang out over the exhibition hall.

  Briskly, the organizers called the still-considerable crowd to attention, insisting the inventors come forward and gather in front of a small dais that had been pushed into place before the open main doors.

  William John walked up from the end of the hall. He grinned at Rand and Felicia, then took Felicia’s other arm and dragged the pair of them with him. “Come on.”

  There wasn’t time to remonstrate that William John was the true inventor—and Rand wasn’t about to deny that Felicia fully deserved to go forward as well. He wasn’t so sure of his place among those gathered to the fore, but this was not the moment to make a scene.

  The venerable chairman of the committee—a member of the Royal Society who had officiated at such events for years—climbed onto the dais and, in ringing tones, announced, “His Highness, Prince Albert, has graciously consented to present our prestigious award of Most Promising Invention of the Year.” The announcement caused a stir; the Prince’s imprimatur would mean the award carried even more weight than it normally did. The chairman continued, extolling the illustrious history of the event and the award.

  Before the audience grew restive, the chairman invited Albert to join him on the podium, along with another gentleman bearing the heavy silver statuette that signified the award. The chairman spoke briefly with Albert, then turned to the audience and announced, “Without more ado, the unanimous selection of this year’s committee to receive the award of Most Promising Invention of the Year is the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage!”

  Cheers and applause erupted from all sides, even from the inventors surrounding them.

  William John turned to Felicia—he threw his arms around her and hugged her hard.

  Felicia laughed. She felt tears fill her eyes.

  Still holding tight, William John whispered, “I wish Papa had lived to see this.”

  Felicia patted his back. “He didn’t do this—you did.” She knew it was the truth, knew how much of their father’s original design he’d—they’d—changed.

  William John released her and met her eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He looked at the man beside her. “Without you and Rand.”

  The organizers were urging William John to come forward. With a huge smile splitting his face, he headed for the dais, towing Felicia behind him. “Come on,” he commanded, including Rand with his gaze.

  On the dais, Albert stood holding the statuette and smiling. When William John stepped up, after a few well-chosen and mercifully brief words, the Prince handed William John the statuette.

  With a reverent expression taking hold, William John accepted the award. The audience cheered, clapped, and whistled. After a moment, he faced the crowd, waited until they’d quieted, then said, “Inventors are generally solitary, but by the most amazing luck, I was blessed to have more h
elp and support than most ever find.” He glanced at Felicia, then reached out, caught her hand, and tugged her up beside him. “I had my sister, who knows more about concept and design than I ever will, to guide me past the inevitable hurdles”—his gaze moved to Rand, standing beside the dais—“and I had Lord Randolph Cavanaugh and his syndicate of investors—people who understand the vagaries of inventing—to smooth our way and keep us progressing over those hurdles to a successful end.”

  William John looked back at the crowd and raised the statuette high. “On behalf of the team who worked on making the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage a success, I thank Prince Albert and the organizers for this recognition—and wish that, for all the other inventors here today, they find the right teams to support them so that they, too, achieve success.”

  The crowd roared. Everyone was smiling, even the inventors passed over for the award.

  Rand shook Albert’s hand and those of the committee members. Then he turned to find Felicia and William John waiting, identical smiles wreathing their faces. Rand smiled back, spread his arms, and hugged them both.

  Success, at long last, was theirs.

  CHAPTER 16

  The celebrations lasted far into the night. It was close to midnight, and the publican was looking longingly at the stairs, when Ryder and Mary excused themselves and went up to their room.

  William John, Shields, and the men who had been their guards—not counting the four presently standing guard about the barn housing the steam carriage—were still toasting a success William John had insisted be regarded as an all-inclusive team effort. Felicia caught Rand’s eye, then looked toward the stairs.

  He smiled, took her hand, rose, and drew her to her feet. To the others, he simply said, “Goodnight, all.”

  Felicia paused to add, “Don’t forget we’ll be leaving at nine o’clock sharp.”

  Several groans were the only replies, then the group went back to reliving the day’s events.

  Smiling, Felicia linked her arm with Rand’s, and they made for the stairs.

  They reached her room, and Rand followed her in. She shut the door and turned—to find herself drawn into his arms.

  Leaning back against his hold, she looked into his face. The lamps had been turned down, but sufficient light streamed in from outside for her to see his expression. She trapped his eyes with hers, raised her hands and framed his face, and, with heartfelt sincerity, said, “Thank you. I haven’t said that yet today, and I don’t think William John’s acknowledgment went far enough. Without you, we wouldn’t be here—we would never have overcome the hurdles, much less reached such a glorious end.” She hesitated, then, her eyes on his, went on, “More, I wouldn’t have found myself—my true calling. And I wouldn’t now feel so much closer to William John, and so much more reconciled to my father’s ways.” Her voice lowering, she said, “I know I have you to thank for that. If you hadn’t come to the Hall and been willing to stay and work with us to see the invention through, we wouldn’t be where we are.”

  Rand’s smile was the definition of mellow, full of confident satisfaction. The same emotion rang in his voice as, after turning his head and pressing a kiss to her right palm, he replied, “It truly was my pleasure—and all of what’s followed, all our combined success, is my reward. All the reward I look for.” He paused, then added, “This is the sweetest part of what I do and a large part of what attracts me to the challenge.”

  She slid her hands back, locked them at his nape, and tipped her head, studying him. “Succeeding—pulling it off.”

  No question, Rand noticed; she understood. “And speaking of such challenges—and pulling them off—as I mentioned, I have a proposition to place before you, one I wish to state at the outset is not in any way connected to my proposal of marriage.” He continued to hold her before him, continued to meet her eyes. “If you don’t think this proposition has merit—if it doesn’t appeal to you—please don’t feel obliged to agree. Your decision won’t affect our marriage in any way.”

  She narrowed her eyes fractionally. “I think you had better make your proposal clear, my lord—and allow me to be the judge of how much impact it might have.”

  His lips twisted wryly. “Very well—it’s simply this. Quite aside from marrying you, I want to bring you into the firm of Cavanaugh Investments as a full partner.”

  Her brows rose. “A partner? Doing what?”

  “Working alongside me in evaluating inventions in which the various syndicates I manage might invest. I have a feel for things from a financial perspective, but you have a talent for sensing which inventions can be made to work efficiently and which are more likely to hit insurmountable obstacles. You can winnow the chaff from my grain. As partners, working as a team, our chances of success—and of avoiding failure—will be greatly increased.”

  Her eyes had widened. “You truly want me working beside you...openly?”

  He nodded. “In the office, sitting alongside me while I meet with my investors.” He couldn’t help his smile. “You’ll feature as my number one advantage over all other investment-syndicate managers, at least those focusing on inventions. Especially now the Throgmorton steam carriage has achieved such preeminent success.”

  Her gaze had grown unfocused as she envisaged the picture he was endeavoring to paint. “Together, we could steer funds toward those inventions most likely to result in new and better ways of doing things—producing things—society needs.” She refocused on his eyes and smiled her warm, engaging smile. “This proposition of yours, husband-to-be, appears to have been quite thoroughly thought through—a most well-grounded and well-rounded proposal.”

  He smiled into her green eyes. “I thought so.” After a second, he arched a brow. “Does that mean you’ll accept?”

  She tipped back her head and laughed. “Of course—how could I resist?”

  He dipped his head to place a string of hot kisses down the sweet line of her throat. “I’m glad you can’t. We’ll make a remarkable team.”

  She righted her head and, moving into him, her gaze locking on his, softly said, “I never thought to have anything to do with inventions—not ever. But by your side...that’s where life now calls me.”

  He held her gaze. “It’s where you fit—by my side, working with me in every way.”

  “Yes.” For a second, she held his gaze, letting him see her commitment to that—a commitment to match his own—then she stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

  She kissed him, and he gathered her to him and kissed her back.

  And as the moon and the stars shone upon them in silvery benediction, they gave themselves up to their private celebration. With minds and souls committed, wholeheartedly, they embraced all that linked them, surrendering with joy to the need, to the undeniable wanting. To the hunger and desire, to the passion that rose up and, in a fiery conflagration, erupted and drove them to the bed.

  Onto sheets that tangled as they reached for each other and burned.

  They came together in a rush of joy and incandescent pleasure, driven by a force too powerful to deny.

  They seized and clutched and let the sensations grip and whip them on, up and on to the peak—then over to where soaring ecstasy seized them, broke and shattered them, and glory flooded in, until, at the last, oblivion ruled.

  Later, much later, when he lifted from her, then settled beside her and drew the covers over their cooling limbs, when she turned to him, into his arms, he dropped a soft kiss to her temple and whispered, “Together in everything from now on.”

  * * *

  Three days later, Rand and Felicia stood on the porch of Throgmorton Hall and waved Ryder and Mary and the men from Raventhorne on their way.

  As the small troop passed out of sight down the drive, Felicia sighed. She glanced at Rand, standing beside her. She’d promised Mary and Ryder that she would accom
pany Rand on a visit to Raventhorne Abbey in a few weeks. In truth, she was looking forward to learning more about him and his family—about his life.

  Flora, who had come out with them to wave their guests farewell, turned and walked toward the open door. “Do come in for tea later, my dears.”

  Rand glanced at Flora and smiled. “We will.” He turned back to Felicia, took her hand, and drew her down the steps.

  As she acquiesced and allowed him to lead her onto the lawn, in reply to her inquiring look, still smiling, he said, “It’s time we discussed the details of our own crowning achievement.”

  She laughed. “You mean our wedding?”

  “Indeed. Did I mention that Mary is—or was—a Cynster? If she’s involved in any way—and trust me, she will be—then the words ‘crowning achievement’ will definitely apply.”

  Felicia smiled. Having now spent many hours in Mary’s company, she could appreciate his point.

  They’d strolled past the end of the terrace and onto the south lawn. From around the rear corner of the house came the sounds of William John’s and Clive Mayhew’s voices. The steam carriage was presently angled on the paving outside the workshop, with its various panels removed to display the engine in all its glory. Clive was busy creating a range of sketches, some of which would eventually hang in the Hall and also in Rand’s office in the City.

  “That was an excellent idea of yours to put Clive on a retainer to do sketches of all the inventions we take under our wing.” Rand met her eyes; his were laughing. “Aside from keeping him solvent, the retainer will ensure we can get him away from Mary when the need arises.”

  Felicia chuckled. “I’m not sure Clive realizes what’s in store for him and his sketches, now that he’s agreed to allow Mary to be his patroness.”

  Grinning, Rand nodded. “With her connections and her determination, she’ll steer him to great heights. Given his talent, there’s little doubt of that.”

  They strolled on in comfortable silence. After several minutes, Rand glanced at Felicia. “So to our big question. When shall it be?”