The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh (The Cavanaughs 1) - Page 88

Rand took that as their cue to depart. He returned to a crouch and, using hand signals, directed Mayhew to shuffle to the rear of the carriage, then stand and walk out to the side. As, urging Felicia ahead of him, Rand moved to follow, he felt a draft, looked at the wall, and saw the door Winthrop must have used. Their guards hadn’t fallen down on the job. Winthrop had slithered in like the snake he was.

After helping Felicia to her feet, Rand guided her and Mayhew to the end of the cordon on that side. Rand paused there to take stock. The crowd was too dense and pressed too closely against the cordon for them to have any chance of slipping into the throng. Luckily, Ryder and Mary had joined the Prince’s party, and the pair now stood on the inside of the cordon, not far from William John, ready to support him if need be.

Rand drew Felicia’s hand through his arm. Over his shoulder, he said to Mayhew, “Stick close.” Then he led Felicia forward to join Ryder and Mary, which was where, according to their plan, they were supposed to be.

As Rand settled beside Ryder, without turning his head, Ryder inquired, “Where did you get to?”

“We’ve been nullifying our would-be saboteur’s efforts.” Rand sensed Ryder shoot a sharp glance at Mayhew and added, “Not him. He helped us.”

“Which is something you will both need to explain to me later,” Felicia muttered, glancing at Mayhew.

Rand raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “We will, but later. Definitely later.”

William John had noticed Felicia’s and Rand’s arrival. He flashed them a relieved smile, but his recitation of the wonders of the improvements he and his father had made to the steam engine didn’t falter. At Felicia’s insistence, William John had somewhat grudgingly agreed to omit her name from the discussion; while Rand had understood Felicia’s reasoning—the involvement of a female wouldn’t be viewed in a positive light by the majority of those present—he’d also sympathized with William John and his dislike of being forced, by default, to accept credit for her work.

Perhaps that would change in the future, but for now, Rand agreed with Felicia’s pragmatic stance.

So they stood and listened, and a slow but steady wave of relief and pride welled and rolled through him—through them. He read as much in Felicia’s fine eyes as she glanced at him, the green misty with pride and rising joy.

William John had come into his own. His confidence in discussing the invention with the Prince, the committee members, and several other inventors who had pressed close was impressive; not once did he falter.

And when, with what was, for William John, a remarkably graceful gesture, he invited the Prince to step into the carriage for a drive down the hall, the excitement that gripped not just Albert but the entire audience was wonderful to behold.

After a moment of further discussion, Albert accepted.

William John spared a triumphant glance for Felicia and Rand, then turned back to show the Prince to the steps to climb up to the carriage’s bench seat.

Thrilled and eager to witness such an event, the crowd was quite orderly in falling back to clear space for the carriage to turn out of its allotted spot and then roll up the hall.

Rand doubted he would ever again know a moment like this—the first time an invention he’d backed had been given such a clear stamp of approval from the monarchy. As he and Felicia, together with Ryder and Mary, stepped back with the rest of the onlookers, Rand felt the white silk band still wrapped around his fingers. Releasing Felicia’s arm, he unraveled the remnants of the silk square.

It was monogrammed. For several seconds, Rand stared at the entwined HW. Then he tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and glanced over his shoulder. As he’d instructed, Mayhew had remained close. “I suggest,” Rand said, “that with all attention on the steam carriage, now would be a good time to find your uncle and have a quiet word.”

Mayhew arched a brow. “He would have waited to see what happened.”

“Indeed. Let’s catch him before he realizes nothing is going to mar the Prince’s enjoyment and does a bunk.”

Rand bent his head and whispered to Felicia, “Mayhew and I need to speak to the man who tried to get him to sabotage the engine. You need to stay here in case William John needs any support when he returns. We should be back soon after.”

She shot him a look, one that stated she was torn, but in the end, she nodded. “All right. Just as long as you tell me all later.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “I promise.”

“Do you need help?” Ryder murmured, his gaze fixed on the steam carria

ge.

Rand thought about it. “Not at this point.”

Ryder nodded, and Rand turned to Mayhew. Rand tipped his head toward the main doors. “Come on. I would wager your uncle’s still watching and waiting, and I believe he owes us all several boons for preventing the assassination of Prince Albert by his hand.”

Mayhew blinked, then his eyes widened. “Good Lord! I hadn’t thought of that.”

Rand smiled grimly, yet predatory satisfaction glimmered in his eyes. “Indeed. I doubt Winthrop did, either, and, in this instance, his handkerchiefs are as good as a calling card.”

* * *

They found Winthrop at the rear of the crowd, not far from the main doors. As they approached, he was scowling and rising up on his toes in an attempt to see what was happening over the intervening heads. His peeved expression stated very clearly that he was utterly perplexed as to why the engine—only just audible at this distance—was still running.

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