Page 92 of The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

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 accompany 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?”

When she gave no answer, but, instead, met his gaze and arched her brows in invitation, he went on, “I would prefer it to be sooner rather than later, obviously. There are, however, formalities that are best observed—banns, for instance. I was thinking of late August.”

She considered, then nodded. “Late August will suit, my lord.”

Lips twitching, he inclined his head. “Having agreed on that—and on the need for banns—I assume you would prefer to be married here, from the Hall?”

She glanced at the house. “If you’re agreeable. I’ve known the people here and in the village all my life—I would like to have our wedding in their midst, at St. Mary’s.”

He raised her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “That’s as it should be. So a wedding at St. Mary’s in Hampstead Norreys on”—he swiftly counted through the days—“I believe it would be August the twenty-sixth.”

Lowering his arm, settling her hand in his, he met her gaze. “On to the next question—where should we live?”

She frowned. “Does it have to be in London?”

“In the main, no—I imagine we’ll spend most of our days, those when we’re not traveling to view exhibitions and such, in the country.” He tipped his head and acknowledged, “We will need to live in London for short periods scattered through the year, but given how rarely Ryder and Mary use Raventhorne House—it’s a massive old mansion in Mount Street—and I’ve always had rooms there, I suspect Mary will tell us that we’ll be doing her and Ryder a favor by using that as our London base.”

“All right.” She met his eyes. “So where in the country should we live?”

“I thought,” Rand said, trying to read her expression, “that as Raventhorne Abbey isn’t far, we might look for a property between here and there.”

Her answering smile set his mind at rest. “That would, indeed, offer the best of all worlds.”

Although Flora had stated that she would remain at Throgmorton Hall and keep the household functioning, Rand knew Felicia would prefer to be within easy reach of her brother, and Rand himself thought that wise, not least given the likelihood of further joint inventions. He had a suspicion that, brilliant though William John undoubtedly was, he would always need his sister’s mind to bring his ideas to their ultimate fruition.

“That’s settled, then.” Rand gripped Felicia’s hand more firmly and looked ahead. “We’ll start hunting for a likely property tomorrow.”

She laughed, but didn’t argue.