At the end, when, exhausted, wrung out, and deeply sated, they lay side by side on their backs in the bed, they each turned their head and met the other’s gaze—sank into the emotions dwelling there—then softly smiled.
She rolled onto her side, into him. He raised one arm and draped it about her, drawing her closer, and she settled her head on his chest, her hand splayed over his still-thudding heart.
A minute passed, then he reached down and drew the coverlet over their cooling limbs.
She settled her head, then murmured, “We’re nearly there. I’m still not sure this isn’t a dream.”
He pressed a kiss to her hair. “No dream. We—William John, you, and I—have worked for this. One more day, then we’ll see what success we can wring from our endeavors.”
Her thoughts returned to her earlier consideration of the next day’s route. After a moment, she ventured, “Do you think, as we approach Birmingham, that the danger to the steam carriage—the potential for attack—might increase?”
Rand didn’t immediately dismiss the idea. However, after considering the likely scenarios, he murmured, “I can’t say for certain, but I think there are several points that will work in our favor and make it unlikely that any attempt at sabotage will be essayed at this late stage—at least, not on the road. Just as we are, all the other inventors with exhibits will be coming into Birmingham tomorrow. As the exhibition hall doesn’t open until noon, I doubt any inventors will have brought their inventions into town early—fearing tampering before they get their invention safely into the hall. But all exhibitors must have their inventions in place by six o’clock, so all the other inventors will be converging on the exhibition hall, as focused on getting their inventions onto the hall floor at much the same time as we will be—I can’t imagine any will have time to spare to think about causing problems for us.”
She shifted on his chest. “That’s the other inventors. What about people they or others might have hired—like Mayhew?”
“That’s the second point working in our favor. The horses have grown used to the steam engine. You might not have noticed, but from after lunch, as we traveled, Ryder gradually brought his men and their mounts closer and closer to the steam carriage. By the time we traveled up Horsefair to this place, the horses were treating the steam carriage as if it was any other carriage.” She looked up, and he met her gaze. “Tomorrow, the guards will travel much closer, especially as we come into Birmingham. That will make it all but impossible to approach the engine closely enough to do it any damage.”
He smiled. “And as we’ll make straight for the exhibition hall, there’ll be no later chance for anyone to tamper with it. The organizers of the exhibition are well aware of the potential threats—they know their reputation depends on them keeping all the inventions safe overnight and through the exhibition. They’ll have guards everywhere.”
“So once we place the steam carriage on the exhibition floor—essentially, placing it into the organizers’ hands—we can be assured it will remain safe?”
He pulled an equivocal face. “Theoretically, yes. But the exhibition itself is liable to be crowded, so we’ll have our own guards in place as well, to ensure the engine remains safe throughout, but until the exhibition ends and we take the steam carriage out of the hall, its safety remains the responsibility of the organizers. Once it leaves the hall, it becomes our responsibility again, but as the presentation of the invention will have been accomplished, I can’t see anyone bothering to make an attempt at sabotage then. There would be no point.”
“Ah. I see.” She smothered a yawn.
He settled her more comfortably against him. Within seconds, he felt he
r limbs relaxing, growing that telltale touch heavier. He brushed his lips across her temple. “Did you enjoy your driving lesson?”
He felt her lips curve.
“Yes. It was...exhilarating. I can understand why William John is so in alt.”
Rand smiled to himself as her words trailed away and her limbs grew heavier yet. Seconds later, she was asleep.
Still smiling, he closed his eyes and sensed a satisfaction that glowed bone deep, deep enough to wreathe about his soul.
He, too, was in alt, but his contentment owed nothing to any invention.
He owed his state to the woman in his arms and to the emotion that had prompted him to set aside his prejudice against clever ladies and understand all she was, and all she meant and would mean to him.
Feeling her weight soft and safe and secure in his arms, still inwardly smiling, he surrendered to sleep.
* * *
Although, the following day, their party set out with every member infected by heightened alertness, as Rand had predicted, the journey from Banbury to Birmingham passed without incident. They maintained their vigilant cavalcade into the bustle of the busy town, passing along Digbeth and around the famous Bull Ring marketplace, around St. Martin’s Circus, then puttering and clattering all the way up New Street to Victoria Square and the Town Hall, in which the exhibition was to be held.
The Town Hall was a memorable building. They pulled up outside, and Rand alighted from the steam carriage. After one glance at the organizers waiting with their lists before the steps, he went to the traveling coach, reaching it in time to hand Felicia down. He noted her survey of the building and murmured, “It was designed by the inventor of the Hansom Cab—Joseph Hansom. He modeled it on the Temple of Castor and Pollux in Rome.”
Standing beside Ryder and Mary, who had joined her on the pavement, Felicia studied the colonnaded façade with a critical eye, while Rand went with William John to speak with the organizers. A ramp had been erected over one side of the steps leading into the building. After registering their arrival and receiving instructions, Rand and William John returned, and with the help of all the men, pushed the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage up the ramp and into the foyer of the exhibition hall. More organizers were waiting there to take charge of each invention. They had a small army of porters, some of whom were directed to take the steam carriage away. A small man, swathed in a gray dustcoat and with round spectacles perched on his button nose, directed six porters. “Down the aisle to the space reserved for it—number twenty-four.”
The porters nodded and took charge, carefully pushing the steam carriage on through the foyer and into the exhibition hall.
Although the hall’s double doors stood open, from where the Throgmorton party had been halted behind a cordon, they couldn’t see into the space.
William John stared after the disappearing steam carriage, a pained expression on his face.
Felicia put a hand on his sleeve. “All the porters are wearing gloves—did you notice?”