“Indeed, my lord.” With a covered dish in his hands, Johnson half bowed. “I sent both letters off with the stable lad first thing this morning. The post is collected from the village promptly at nine o’clock.”
Rand smiled. “Thank you.” So his letter to Ryder was on its way. Perhaps it was just as well he hadn’t known of the attack to mention it, not if he wanted to avoid a visit from his sometimes-overpowering big brother.
He followed Johnson into the breakfast parlor. Felicia and William John were already at the table. After exchanging a “Good morning” with Felicia, Rand helped himself from the sideboard, then circled the table to claim the chair he’d sat in the previous day—the one facing Felicia. The light streaming in through the windows at his back illuminated her expressive face. He could, he felt, stare at it for hours.
He wasn’t entirely surprised when, once he’d settled and essayed his first mouthful, she shot him a look and stated, “Regarding Mayhew’s visit this afternoon, I’ve decided it would be best to continue to be on guard. We can’t be certain he wasn’t the man who attempted to break into the workshop last night.”
For once, William John was listening. He frowned, his expression suggesting he wasn’t convinced of Mayhew’s involvement.
“I agree.” Rand reached for the mug Johnson had filled with coffee. “But regardless of whether the perpetrator was Mayhew or not, the attack last night is proof incontrovertible that someone—someone in the vicinity—is set on gaining access to the Throgmorton engine. Given how close we are to the exhibition, we have to assume that person’s intent is to sabotage the invention and prevent it from being successfully presented at the exhibition.”
William John grimaced. Pushing away his empty plate, he sank his hands into his trouser pockets and stared at the tablecloth in front of him. “I know Papa had an invention sabotaged years ago, while he was transporting it to the factory that had commissioned it, but he managed to fix it.” William John looked up and met Rand’s gaze. “In that case, the blackguard was a competing inventor. Are there other inventors in direct competition with us over the steam engine? I haven’t heard of any, but since Papa’s death, I haven’t been corresponding with any others in the field.”
Rand took a full minute to evaluate what he knew and how best to explain it. Eventually, after glancing at Felicia and noting that she, too, was waiting for his reply, he said, “I don’t know of any directly competing inventors. As far as I know, the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage is the only such invention being unveiled at this year’s exhibition. In the eyes of most inventors and investors, the concept of a steam-powered horseless carriage has proved unviable—precisely because of the problems you and your father have worked to address. I haven’t heard of any other inventor who is still pursuing that dream—at least, not in England. And I doubt the Throgmorton engine will have come to the attention of inventors on the Continent—not yet.”
He paused, considering, then concluded, “Overall, I think it unlikely that some other inventor is behind last night’s attack.” He drew breath and went on, “That isn’t to say there aren’t others who have a vested interest in eradicating any suggestion that steam-powered horseless carriages might yet be a viable proposition.”
Felicia frowned. “If not other inventors, then who?”
“Other investors—and that’s just one group.” Rand felt his face harden. “With steam-powered vehicles, you would also have to consider the owners and operators of the railways—and they are an exceedingly powerful lot. Then there’s the toll-road operators, who have taken a hard stance against steam-powered vehicles—they would infinitely prefer the notion vanished without trace.” He paused, then met Felicia’s eyes. “And as for the politics...who knows who has interests that such an invention—a successful one—might threaten?”
Felicia studied his face, his eyes, then she tipped her head, and her lips and chin firmed. “It sounds as if it’s pointless to speculate on who might ultimately be behind the attack and what their motives might be. To me, that means we need to maintain our vigilance against any and all further attack—who might be behind such attacks doesn’t change what we need to do.”
Rand nodded. “Well said. I agree.” Shields had already reported on the rotation Corby and he had devised. Rand outlined their plan. “So as well as William John, there will always be at least one extra man in the workshop throughout the day. And at night, two men will be on duty at all times.”
Felicia was listening intently. Rand glanced at William John. Their inventor appeared to have drifted back to mentally wrestling with tubes and valves. Rand returned his gaze to Felicia’s green eyes. “That should ensure the invention remains safe—unsabotaged.”
She nodded, then, holding his gaze, pushed back her chair. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep a close eye on Mr. Mayhew while he completes his sketch.” She swiveled on the chair, about to rise, then paused and said, “Regarding Mr. Mayhew...just in case he is involved, presumably working as an agent for someone else, I thought I might use the hours while he’s here to tease more information from him as to his background, his connections—the usual sorts of things a lady might bring up in conversation.”
Rand hadn’t wanted to ask, but was quick to nod encouragingly. “You never know what he might let fall, especially if he’s distracted with his sketching.”
She cut a swift glance at her brother. “My thoughts exactly.” She rose, and Rand came to his feet.
William John grunted as if their movement had disturbed his train of thought. He pushed back his chair and stood as well.
As Rand rounded the table, Felicia turned to the door. “Of course, once Mayhew completes his sketch, there’ll be no reason for him to return.”
“True.” Rand followed her into the front hall. “But even if he doesn’t openly return here, we won’t know if he remains in the area. There are too many villages and hamlets within easy reach to check.”
“Indeed.” She nodded. “I’ll see what I can learn this afternoon.”
With that, she sailed off to what Rand had learned was her sitting room—on the other side of the hall from the drawing room. Mrs. Reilly was already waiting by the door, a sheaf of papers in her hands. The housekeeper followed Felicia inside and shut the door.
William John, his hands sunk in his pockets, his head down—deep in thought—had already ambled past, heading for the workshop stairs.
Rand studied the closed sitting room door. Even more than previously, he didn’t like the idea of Felicia Throgmorton interacting with Mayhew, especially alone upon the lawn at some distance from the house. Then again, Rand wouldn’t be far away, and he most certainly would be watching like a hawk. The thick woods that circled the house were proving to be a blessing.
He wished he could think of some alternative, but in the circumstances, it was undoubtedly wise to learn what they could about Mayhew, and in accomplishing that, Felicia stood a far better chance of success than he.
If learning that William Throgmorton was dead and the invention Rand had so much riding on was not yet complete had been a rude shock, learning that someone was intent on sabotaging said invention was an even more unwelcome complication.
Inwardly shaking his head, with nothing more he could usefully do at that point, Rand walked to the workshop stairs and followed William John do
wn.
* * *
When Clive Mayhew arrived, Felicia was seated with Flora in the drawing room, waiting to welcome him.