He stiffened, muscles throughout his body hardening.
Before he could say anything, she straightened and, dusting her hands, faced him and met his eyes. “I suggested he come for afternoon tea and speak with me and Flora about it. I know there’s no chance of winkling William John from the workshop—and we need him to finish the last adjustments as soon as possible, so better he isn’t distracted—but would you care to join us?” She tipped her head, her eyes still on his. “We could see what you make of Mayhew and his return.”
Her last comment, especially her use of “we,” shifted Rand’s perspective. He studied her expression, but wasn’t sure what he sensed. “You don’t believe him?”
She humphed and turned to lean back against the bench beside him. “I believe him about his ability to sketch—that’s beyond doubt. But as for the rest... I have to admit I’m not inclined to trust any charming gentleman who comes waltzing up our drive.”
Rand turned his head and stared at her.
Eventually feeling his gaze, she glanced at him, then her lips twitched and she faced forward again. “I trust you, but that’s for a lot of other reasons, and you’ve never tried to charm me, which in my book is a very large point in your favor.”
Faintly, he arched his brows. “Duly noted,” he murmured.
Belatedly, Felicia realized that this was the first time he and she had been alone since that amazingly distracting kiss in the night, yet rather than suffering from any feeling of awkwardness, she felt comfortable, at ease, and, yes, relieved. Relieved he was there to share her concern over Mayhew and what his reappearance might mean.
“Is having Mayhew back, even for afternoon tea, a wise idea?”
She glanced at Rand. “I can’t see any way of being sure. And while I could easily have put him off, at least until after the exhibition, it occurred to me that if he is the agent of some other inventor—or some other person who wants our engine to fail—then keeping him in plain sight might be a better option than refusing his request. Consider”—she gestured toward the French door that gave access to the lawn at the rear of the house—“the very thing about this house that makes it so attractive for him to sketch, or so he claims, also makes it terribly easy for him to approach quite close without us knowing. He could hide in the wood and watch us fit the engine to the carriage and so on.”
Facing forward, she paused, then went on, “There’s also the fact that if Mayhew is an agent working against our interests, then I, for one, would like to know who he’s working for.” She glanced sidelong at Rand and caught his eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”
He stared at her for a full minute, then grimaced. He faced forward and blew out a breath. “What—exactly—did he say?”
She told him. “He didn’t ask to be shown around inside or to sketch inside the house.”
After a moment, he demanded, “Has he ever asked about the workshop or about what your brother does?”
“No.” She hesitated, then admitted, “The only things he’s shown any interest in are those that affect his sketching.”
“Hmm.” After another significantly more brooding silence, Rand said, “I assume you hope to give him enough rope to hang himself, so to speak.”
She nodded. “For him to at least show his true colors.”
“How, exactly, do you see his next visit and his next round of sketching leading to that end?”
She grimaced. “I don’t know. But he has returned, and he wants to come here and sketch. Presumably, he has a reason for that. Given we’re on guard against him—and with him back in the neighborhood, I assume we’ll be maintaining our night and day watches with even greater stringency—”
“I’ll be rearranging the watches so that during the night, there’ll be three men awake and alert at all times.”
“—then I propose we give Mayhew the opportunity to ask questions about the workshop, or about William John’s occupation, or even to attempt to see the workshop or speak with William John.” She frowned. “If we’re right in thinking that he’s not just an artist but also a would-be saboteur, then with only a week to go before the exhibition, he’ll be wanting to make some definite move to achieve his ends very soon.”
A sudden thought occurred, and she turned to Rand. “You said we’d have to leave here on Thursday morning to get to Birmingham in time. If Mayhew fails in his task while here, but gives us no reason to have him arrested, then surely damaging the invention while it’s on the road to the exhibition will be his next cast. We’ll need to organize more guards.”
“That won’t be hard—you can leave that to me.”
To his discomfort, Felicia’s proposed interaction with Mayhew left Rand prey to contradictory impulses.
His protective, possessive self didn’t want her anywhere near Mayhew—a charming gentleman-artist who Rand had yet to inform of his interest in the delectable Miss Throgmorton. Against that...he could appreciate her reasoning, and if it hadn’t been her but some other lady involved, he would probably have readily agreed with her suggested way forward. More, the sense of camaraderie that in the last twenty minutes had deepened between them was...seductive. He liked the feeling of working closely together, even when their goal was to expose Mayhew and whoever he worked for.
Apparently taking his silence for acquiescence, she asked, “So will you take tea with us this afternoon?”
“No.” He met her eyes. “When I spoke with Mayhew last time he was here, I told him I was a friend of the family visiting for a few days. I suspect he’ll imagine I’ve left by now, and if he’s a villain, it’ll be to our advantage for me to play least in sight.” He paused for a heartbeat, then went on, “However, that doesn’t mean I can’t watch, and while you’re serving him tea, I’ll hover close enough to hear all that’s said.”
She frowned. “Perhaps that wa
s why he was away for barely a week—because he knew you were here and thought it wiser to wait until you were gone.”
“Very possibly. If you recall, he intimated to me that he would be away for longer—a few weeks—yet in barely a week, he’s back.”