The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh (The Cavanaughs 1)

Felicia grimaced. “That’s the last thing we need—another explosion.” After several moments, she glanced at William John. He looked more dejected and defeated than she’d ever seen him.

She didn’t look at Rand, but she’d heard the same low ebb in his voice.

That odd compulsion prodded at her, nagging, all but whispering: What could it hurt?

To her, the problem appeared reasonably straightforward. She must have retained more from her earlier years than she’d realized; the diagrams were as readily interpretable as Mayhew’s sketches.

The suggestion circling her brain might well be ludicrous, yet given the men’s dejection, what would it hurt to voice it? There was nothing more at stake than her pride.

She focused on the diagram of the boiler and its immediate connections, mentally working through her argument again, then she drew in a breath, lifted one hand, and tapped on the paper. “When you throttle back, this valve releases, doesn’t it?”

William John had gone back to staring at the engine. He returned to the board of diagrams, halted by her side, and looked at where she pointed. He nodded. “Yes. That’s the one.”

&nb

sp; “If you’ve drastically increased the efficiency of generating steam,” she said, “shouldn’t there be more than one?”

William John blinked. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Then his face came alive. “We reengineered the pistons, but we left everything else as Russell had it.”

Behind Felicia, Rand straightened. “But she’s right, isn’t she? You’ve allowed for the extra power in the forward drive, but you haven’t adjusted the release.”

William John was nodding feverishly. “Yes. That’s it!” He stepped closer to the board and jabbed a finger at the offending valve. “We need to double the size of that, and I think we should run two in parallel. Yes, that’s right—in series won’t do it. Parallel, it should be.” His voice was rising, excitement building. He started to mutter, all but babbling as he rethought his approach.

Emboldened, Felicia raised her voice and said, “And is there any reason you can’t attach a valve to the boiler itself? One with a high enough limit so it will only release if the pressure rises beyond safe levels?”

William John pulled up short. He thought, then peered at the diagram of the boiler. “You mean directly on the boiler? We’d need it to be recast.”

“We haven’t got time for that, so what about here?” She pointed to one of the two connectors at the top of the boiler. “Can’t you change that and insert a valve with a gauge there?”

Rand came to stand beside her. “Can that be done?” From his tone, William John’s excitement had infected him, too. “I assume if so, we would be able to test the rest of the engine without constantly having to turn it off whenever the pressure in the boiler gets too high.”

William John’s eyes were alight. “Yes—yes! We can do that. We must have the right bits here somewhere—we can figure it out, and then... Yes! That’s it!” He turned to Felicia; his expression ecstatic, he waved his arms in the air. “Eureka!”

She had to laugh—then she felt strong hands fasten about her waist, and Rand, laughing, too, spun her about, picked her up, and, stepping away from the engine and board, whirled her around.

Their excitement sank into her and bubbled through her veins. As the workshop whirled about her, she smothered a squeal. Her hands fell to Rand’s shoulders and gripped; as he slowed, she looked down into his face, wreathed in relieved delight. He grinned boyishly up at her, and something nebulous and elusive tugged at her heart. His eyes met hers, and his expression grew a touch more serious; he held her gaze for several seconds, then, slowly, he lowered her to the floor.

As he released her, he said, “You have no idea how close we were to admitting ultimate defeat.”

She arched a brow at him, then shot a glance at William John. “Am I allowed to say I find that hard to believe?”

William John humphed, but he was still grinning and didn’t seem able to stop.

Before he could start assembling the bits and pieces to create his new valve assembly, she firmly stated, “Now I’ve helped solve your problem, you can solve one for me. There’s a cold collation waiting upstairs, and thus far, only Flora and I have turned up to eat it.”

It was difficult, but she did her best to mock-glare at them both.

“Great heavens! Is it lunchtime?” Rand consulted his watch.

“Good!” William John said. “Now we know what we’re doing, I’m as hungry as a horse.”

She shook her head at him, then turned and led the way to the stairs.

Rand followed her up, with William John happily clattering behind.

Relief was still pouring through Rand, so intense he almost felt giddy. He’d spoken truly. He and William John had been at their wits’ end. He’d greatly feared they’d been staring failure in the face.

Felicia’s insight testified to the benefit of having a fresh pair of eyes look over a problem. He and William John had been studying the diagrams for so long, they hadn’t been able to see the valves for the pipes.