“We can go via the terrace.” Rand turned in that direction, but even as he took the first step, the purring started to fade.
Fade, not stop.
Felicia seized his sleeve and tugged. “He’s driving the carriage around the house.”
The four of them rushed into the front hall, with Flora following more slowly. As, her hand in Rand’s, Felicia followed him out of the front door, she glanced back and realized the entire household was hot on their heels and making for the porch.
She, Rand, Mary, and Ryder halted at the top of the steps. The rest of the household crowded behind them. As they all looked toward the corner of the house, some of Ryder’s men, along with Struthers and Shields, came running along the edge of the drive, waving and cheering.
Then the carriage came into view, smoothly rolling on its steel-banded wheels around the
corner of the house.
Perched behind the steering wheel, William John was smiling fit to burst. He steered the carriage into the forecourt, slowing as he approached the steps.
Then he turned off the engine, and the carriage halted, and he pulled on the brake.
He beamed up at his audience, then spread his arms wide. “I give you the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage!”
Everyone—literally everyone—whooped and cheered.
* * *
Simple happiness and satisfaction permeated the house. All the staff went about with a smile on their faces, while Flora, Felicia, Rand, and William John couldn’t stop beaming with a combination of relief and exuberant triumph. Mary and Ryder were pleased for them and added to the joy with an indulgent air.
And as the hours passed and the carriage was further tested and trialed, then driven back into the workshop and locked away, with guards stationed both inside and outside both entrances, a sense of sharp-edged excitement intensified and gripped all those who would travel to the exhibition.
After dinner—served as usual at six o’clock, as they planned an early start the next morning and Mary and Ryder had denied any need to hold back to a more fashionable hour—the company gathered in the drawing room. Mary sat with Flora on the sofa, with Felicia in the armchair at one end. Mary asked Felicia what the exhibition would be like. Felicia had to confess she didn’t know, never having attended one before. Between them, they speculated, with Flora adding her assumptions to theirs, but as none of them had the slightest experience of such events, it was all truly guesswork.
Then they noticed that the three men—Rand, Ryder, and William John—were standing before the windows and plainly making plans.
Mary swiveled to view the three, then, in a commanding tone, called, “Gentlemen.” When all three swung to look at her, she waved them to the armchairs facing the sofa. “Obviously, it’s impossible to make any firm plans without Felicia’s and my input, so might I suggest you join us and we make a start?” Her cornflower-blue eyes wide, in all apparent innocence, she continued, “Don’t forget you’ll need to let Shields and the other men know of our decisions so they’ll be ready when required tomorrow and will also know which way to go.”
Felicia saw Rand glance at Ryder, but the marquess only smiled amiably and ambled to take the chair opposite his wife. “Indeed, my dear.”
Rand followed his brother’s lead, with William John, frowning faintly, trailing behind.
Once the men had claimed their seats, the five of them—with Flora adding a comment here and there—worked through the details of their trip. In the main, the discussion was led and directed by Mary—with the acquiescence of her husband and Rand. While they progressed through the stages of the journey, first to Banbury and thence to Birmingham—with William John contributing his estimations of the carriage’s likely speed, and all three men spending some time discussing the mounted guards and the possible reaction of the horses to the engine—Felicia took due note.
She couldn’t help but smile.
Rand had claimed the armchair alongside Felicia’s. After he reported on the accommodation he’d arranged for their party along the way—to general approval—under cover of Mary asking William John what their day at the exhibition might be like, Rand reached across and grasped Felicia’s hand where it rested on the chair’s arm. He’d noticed the small smile playing over her face. When she glanced his way, he arched his brows. “What is it?”
She studied him for a second, then looked at Mary. “I was thinking that, having seen Mary in action, I now understand how it’s done.”
He suspected he knew, yet still he asked, “How what’s done?”
Felicia’s smile deepened, and she met his eyes. “I believe your sister-in-law is teaching me how to manage a husband.”
Rand uttered a soft groan. “I should have kept you two far apart.”
“Nonsense—she’s an excellent teacher.”
Rand shook his head in mock-seriousness. “Mary is a highly corrupting influence, at least in the matter of managing.” He paused, then slanted Felicia a look from beneath his lashes. “Besides”—he lowered his voice—“when it comes to managing me, you need no instruction. As I recall, you ‘managed’ exceedingly well last night.”
She fought not to laugh, even as a delicate blush tinged her cheeks. “Hush.” She threw him a warning look, but he could tell she was quietly pleased.
Rand sat back. He continued to hold her hand, feeling her fingers relaxed and accepting under his. As he listened to his brother, his very dear sister-in-law, and his soon-to-be brother-in-law discussing their expectations of the exhibition, he felt peace with a definite undercurrent of contentment roll through him.