The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh (The Cavanaughs 1)

Felicia had had no idea that viewing inventions had become such a popular pastime with the general public.

When she, Mary, and Ryder, along with Shields and the other guards, arrived at the Town Hall a few minutes before one o’clock, it was to discover an eye-openingly large crowd thronging the foyer before the exhibition hall’s doors.

There were ladies in bonnets leaning on the arms of gentlemen attired for a day about town. There were merchants in their best suits, their wives sliding glances at other ladies’ gowns, as well as many men Felicia took for tradesmen, in less well-fitting jackets and with many sporting flat caps. She spotted more than a few apprentices in their coats; along with everyone else, their expressions stated they were eager to get through the doors and look upon what lay inside.

“Good gracious!” Mary blew out a frustrated breath and came up on her toes to peer around. Then she tugged at Ryder’s sleeve and pointed to the side. “There’s a secondary door over there. Perhaps we can slip in.”

Tending grim, Ryder obliged, and, with a glance commanding their men to follow, he escorted Felicia and Mary in the right direction. “I don’t like this,” Ryder stated. “Rand will need our men in place before these people, one and all, descend.”

It transpired that Rand had had the same notion. As they approached the secondary door, it started to open.

From the other side, still out of their sight, some man squeaked, “Lord Cavanaugh—I must protest! Everyone is supposed to come through the main doors so that we may count heads.”

“Indeed?” Rand’s tone was even, yet chilling. “Am I to take it that the committee is prepared to assume full responsibility for any damage the crowd may do before the guards I have organized, who are somewhere in the foyer, reach our exhibit and get into place?”

An irascible mumble came in reply.

“I thought not.” Rand hauled the door fully open.

“We’re here.” Ryder drew Mary and Felicia to one side and waved the men in. “Go and get into position.”

Rand held the door open and pointed. “That way. You’ll find the steam carriage and Mr. Throgmorton close to the end of the aisle.”

The men ducked their heads and streamed past Rand and on down the hall. Felicia, Mary, and Ryder brought up the rear.

Just then, others outside noticed them vanishing into the hall. There were cries and people came running.

Rand slammed the door shut, and Ryder whirled to help him throw the heavy bolts.

Ignoring the thuds on the door and the muffled demands for it to be opened—that it was almost time—Rand turned to the official, now distinctly choleric and inclined to view them all severely. Coolly, Rand waved at Ryder and Mary. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Raventhorne.”

The official goggled, then paled.

Felicia glanced at Ryder and Mary and struggled to swallow a laugh. She’d never seen either look so coldly and arrogantly aloof. They both looked down on the official—quite a feat for Mary given her lack of height—then Mary glanced at Rand. “I take it the inventions are farther along.”

Dismissing the official with an extremely distant nod, Ryder placed his hand at the back of Mary’s waist. “I believe that’s correct, my dear. Shall we see?”

As they stepped toward the central aisle—and the officious official exhaled with poorly concealed relief—the clock in the Town Hall’s tower chimed, tolling for one o’clock. To their left, other officials hauled open the main doors, and the crowd streamed in.

Just ahead of the first wave, Rand, with Felicia’s hand tucked in his arm, followed by Ryder and Mary, swiftly strode down the aisle to where their men had taken up their positions in front of and flanking the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage.

The four of them halted before the exhibit. Felicia took in the gleaming steam carriage, with William John, remarkably neat and wearing a spotless gray coat, standing proudly before it, and felt tears prickle. She blinked rapidly. She clutched Rand’s hand; her gaze on the sight before her, she said, “Papa would have been so very proud.”

She felt Rand’s gaze on her face, then he ducked his head and murmured, “You should tell William John.”

She swallowed the lump emotion had set in her throat, drew her hand from Rand’s, stepped up to her brother, and did.

William John’s face creased in a fond smile. He met her gaze, and for just a second, she glimpsed the big brother who had played with her in the workshop all those many years before.

Then two well-dressed gentlemen came forward, clearly wishing to speak with William John.

Felicia smiled at the pair and stepped back, releasing her brother to them; she supposed this was one of the major purposes of such an exhibition—to spread word of the invention far and wide.

She walked the few paces to where Rand, Ryder, and Mary stood a little to the side; the brothers, both tall enough to see over most heads, were apparently scrutinizing the security arrangements of other exhibitors.

“The cordons help,” Rand said.

Felicia looked and saw that most exhibits had been cordoned off by thick gold-colored ropes suspended from metal stands.