“Indeed. Did I mention that Mary is—or was—a Cynster? If she’s involved in any way—and trust me, she will be—then the words ‘crowning achievement’ will definitely apply.”
Felicia smiled. Having now spent many hours in Mary’s company, she could appreciate his point.
They’d strolled past the end of the terrace and onto the south lawn. From around the rear corner of the house came the sounds of William John’s and Clive Mayhew’s voices. The steam carriage was presently angled on the paving outside the workshop, with its various panels removed to display the engine in all its glory. Clive was busy creating a range of sketches, some of which would eventually hang in the Hall and also in Rand’s office in the City.
“That was an excellent idea of yours to put Clive on a retainer to do sketches of all the inventions we take under our wing.” Rand met her eyes; his were laughing. “Aside from keeping him solvent, the retainer will ensure we can get him away from Mary when the need arises.”
Felicia chuckled. “I’m not sure Clive realizes what’s in store for him and his sketches, now that he’s agreed to allow Mary to be his patroness.”
Grinning, Rand nodded. “With her connections and her determination, she’ll steer him to great heights. Given his talent, there’s little doubt of that.”
They strolled on in comfortable silence. After several minutes, Rand glanced at Felicia. “So to our big question. When shall it be?”
When she gave no answer, but, instead, met his gaze and arched her brows in invitation, he went on, “I would prefer it to be sooner rather than later, obviously. There are, however, formalities that are best observed—banns, for instance. I was thinking of late August.”
She considered, then nodded. “Late August will suit, my lord.”
Lips twitching, he inclined his head. “Having agreed on that—and on the need for banns—I assume you would prefer to be married here, from the Hall?”
She glanced at the house. “If you’re agreeable. I’ve known the people here and in the village all my life—I would like to have our wedding in their midst, at St. Mary’s.”
He raised her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “That’s as it should be. So a wedding at St. Mary’s in Hampstead Norreys on”—he swiftly counted through the days—“I believe it would be August the twenty-sixth.”
Lowering his arm, settling her hand in his, he met her gaze. “On to the next question—where should we live?”
She frowned. “Does it have to be in London?”
“In the main, no—I imagine we’ll spend most of our days, those when we’re not traveling to view exhibitions and such, in the country.” He tipped his head and acknowledged, “We will need to live in London for short periods scattered through the year, but given how rarely Ryder and Mary use Raventhorne House—it’s a massive old mansion in Mount Street—and I’ve always had rooms there, I suspect Mary will tell us that we’ll be doing her and Ryder a favor by using that as our London base.”
“All right.” She met his eyes. “So where in the country should we live?”
“I thought,” Rand said, trying to read her expression, “that as Raventhorne Abbey isn’t far, we might look for a property between here and there.”
Her answering smile set his mind at rest. “That would, indeed, offer the best of all worlds.”
Although Flora had stated that she would remain at Throgmorton Hall and keep the household functioning, Rand knew Felicia would prefer to be within easy reach of her brother, and Rand himself thought that wise, not least given the likelihood of further joint inventions. He had a suspicion that, brilliant though William John undoubtedly was, he would always need his sister’s mind to bring his ideas to their ultimate fruition.
“That’s settled, then.” Rand gripped Felicia’s hand more firmly and looked ahead. “We’ll start hunting for a likely property tomorrow.”
She laughed, but didn’t argue.
He glanced at her as she strolled beside him. There was a deep contentment inside him now that hadn’t been there before; he’d never before felt on such an even keel, with his future, clear and unclouded, stretching ahead of him.
And he owed his newfound certainty, his inner peace, to her. He was beyond grateful he’d found her—the right wife, the perfect helpmate, the partner-in-life he hadn’t had the faintest inkling could exist, much less that such an intelligent, independent lady was the bride he’d instinctively if unknowingly been searching for—the one lady in the whole world he needed to complete his life.
His life as he wanted to live it.
She offered him all he needed—she anchored him and gave him the necessary insights to imbue his chosen life of investing with a wider, deeper purpose, transforming it into a more fulfilling, long-term endeavor.
She was his future in every way.
With her walking by his side, her hand in his, he was...quietly joyous.
Felicia glanced at Rand’s face, took in the softened lines and the aura of relaxed happiness that invested his expression, and felt the same emotion, powerful and strong, dwelling inside her. Filling her and pushing out all doubts. She looked ahead—not at the old oak but into the future. The future that lay all but tangibly before them. By his side, that future was one she would embrace with fervor—one she would seize and hold on to with all her heart.
But that future hadn’t just accidentally found her—it had come to her courtesy of the nobleman pacing by her side, the knight in shining armor who had swept into her life and slayed dragons left and right, then opened her eyes and shown her who she truly was.
He’d released her true self to grow, then he’d taken her hand and encouraged her to be all she could be.