Page 24 of The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

Stepping back, looking up, and smiling at the alarm mechanism, William John sighed happily. “Papa would have been so pleased.”

Again, Rand met Felicia’s eyes, then, at her direction, William John turned off the gaslights, and he and Rand followed her up the stairs.

Felicia paused in the hall. The rest of the household had already reached the gallery and were dispersing to their rooms. She turned to William John—and Rand, who was closing the workshop door, something William John hardly ever remembered to do.

One glance at William John’s face informed her that her brother was overwhelmingly delighted at the perfect performance of one of his inventions and remained untouched by any apprehension over what had caused the alarm to go off.

Rand, on the other hand, looked as concerned as she felt. It was more to him than William John that she said, “After the alarm went off, I saw a man run away from the house and plunge into the woods.”

William John blinked.

Rand regarded her levelly. “Heading past the rose garden?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

His jaw set. “I saw him, too.” He grimaced. “There’s so little moonlight, I didn’t get a decent look at him.”

“Nor did I.” She saw the question forming in Rand’s eyes and stated, “And no, he didn’t look familiar in any way, but it was so quick and the light so poor, I couldn’t swear it wasn’t Mayhew, either.”

William John frowned. “I thought we’d decided the artist was no threat.”

“That’s what we’d concluded,” Rand agreed, “but that doesn’t mean our assessment was correct. It seems a trifle too coincidental that Mayhew appears in the area, inveigles an invitation to the Hall, visits, and hours later, in the dead of night, someone tries to break into your workshop.” He looked at Felicia. “Cast your mind back. Did Mayhew do or say anything at all that might suggest he’d noticed the workshop?”

“No.” She frowned, thinking back yet again. “As I said earlier, I’m not even sure he saw the doors. If he did glimpse them, he certainly paid them no attention at all.” She paused, then shook herself and fixed her gaze on Rand. “Regardless, Mayhew is supposed to return tomorrow—no, today.” A quick glance at the longcase clock against the hall wall confirmed it was nearly two o’clock. “He said he would come in the early afternoon to do his sketch. If it was he who tried the workshop doors, perhaps he won’t turn up. But if he does…”

Rand grunted and waved her and William John toward the stairs. “If he does, either he’s the innocent artist we all think him, or he possesses enough nerve to be a real threat to the invention.”

“We still won’t know, though, will we?” William John climbed the stairs on her other side.

“We’ll simply have to remain vigilant,” Rand replied.

He and Felicia parted from William John at the head of the stairs. Side by side, they walked around the gallery and down the corridor that led to their rooms. Rand reached his door. He paused with his hand on the knob, then inclined his head and, through the dimness, wished her a goodnight.

She returned the salutation and continued to her room. Once inside with the door firmly shut, she exhaled.

Despite all the excitement and distractions, keeping her gaze from Rand’s chest, the solid muscles and impressive width imperfectly concealed behind the screen of his fine linen shirt, had required far more effort than she’d liked. Yet she’d clung to her composure and had managed well enough; she doubted he or anyone else had noticed her difficulties.

She crossed to the uncurtained window through which she’d seen the fleeing man. Crossing her arms over her silk wrapper, she stared down at the night-shrouded scene and thought of what was to come.

Prior to tonight, she and Rand had already started to form a…partnership of sorts. Until he’d arrived and she’d learned the truth of how matters stood, she hadn’t comprehended the significance of her brother’s current invention with respect to her own life. Given she now understood that reality, Rand was quickly coming to feature as…a collaborator. Someone whose aims coincided with her own. Someone she could rely on, at least as far as protecting the invention and steering it to a successful unveiling went.

That some man had attempted to break into the workshop proved beyond doubt that someone—be it Mayhew or some other man—wanted to sabotage the project.

She and Rand would have to work together to guard against that happening. His alarm mechanism notwithstanding, William John couldn’t be relied on to recognize, much less react appropriately to, a threat posed to his invention, not until an attack materialized and was actively under way. Then, he would defend his engine to the death. Meanwhile, however, he would be absorbed with correcting the issues preventing the engine from running for more than a handful of minutes without exploding.

For all their sakes, William John needed to devote his time and his brain to that. No one else could fix the engine.

And she and Rand would be thrown together even more in organizing its defense.

She had to admit that a large part of her found the prospect…enticing. It promised a sort of excitement that had rarely come her way.

More, however, as she stood staring unseeing into the darkness, she realized that, for the very first time in her life, she felt…protective toward an invention.

Before Rand had arrived on their doorstep, she hadn’t thought of the engine much at all, and when she had, it had featured as a nuisance.

After she’d learned the truth, she’d accepted that the engine meant something to her—to her future.

And after this direct attack…