The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

by Stephanie Laurens

  Viewing the scene from behind her, affection and amused resignation in his tone, Rand murmured, “I might have guessed—Mary’s come as well.”

  “The marchioness?” Felicia’s voice had risen to a squeak.

  She felt Rand’s gaze touch her face, then his hand settled in the small of her back and gently propelled her forward. “Don’t worry. Mary will take great delight in befriending you. She’s very much one for family.”

  Fractionally heartened, Felicia walked forward and composed herself, waiting with Rand at the top of the porch steps with her hands clasped before her and a welcoming smile on her face.

  She hadn’t thought of the point until Rand had mentioned the likelihood of his half brother joining them, but there was no denying she would not be considered a good catch—not for Lord Randolph Cavanaugh. She had no real dowry and no particular prospects of wealth or high social connections to recommend her.

  That said, she’d been prepared to accept Rand’s assurances that his half brother would welcome her with open arms, but she’d hoped to have time to find her way with the marquess before she had to face his wife.

  Felicia felt passingly sure that Lady Mary would take a much dimmer view of a penniless inventor’s daughter as Rand’s choice of wife.

  The marchioness was smiling down at her husband, sharing some joke as she leaned her hands on his broad shoulders and he lifted her effortlessly down to the gravel. For a second, as he steadied her, his hands locked about her tiny waist, and she gazed, still smiling laughingly, up into his face as he looked down at hers, the connection between the pair shone so brilliantly, Felicia felt a pang of yearning. And of hope. The marquess and marchioness had, apparently, been married for some years, yet they still looked at each other like that.

  Would she and Rand share that sort of connection? Time, she supposed, would tell.

  On releasing his wife, the marquess turned to address his men, instructing them to take their horses and follow Struthers, who had appeared to take the gray’s and the Arab’s reins.

  Meanwhile, patently eager, the marchioness looked about. She hadn’t spotted Rand and Felicia before; as her gaze landed on them, waiting on the porch, her face lit with a smile of transparently genuine delight. Tossing the train of her habit over one arm, still beaming, she walked quickly toward them.

  Deciding that Lady Mary’s delight was most likely occasioned by seeing Rand, girding her loins and stiffening her spine, Felicia, with Rand keeping pace by her side, descended the steps to meet her hopefully soon-to-be sister-in-law.

  Lady Mary halted before them. Without even a glance at Rand, her ladyship’s vivid cornflower-blue eyes, large and quite striking, fixed on Felicia’s face. “Good afternoon, Miss Throgmorton. I’m Mary, Ryder’s wife.” If anything, the marchioness’s delighted smile only grew brighter. “I cannot tell you how positively thrilled I am to meet you.” Lady Mary held out her hand; she’d already removed her gloves.

  All but blinded by the marchioness’s unrestrained friendliness, Felicia lightly grasped Lady Mary’s fingers—only to have Mary grip more tightly and draw her into a scented embrace. “I truly am so very glad,” Mary whispered in Felicia’s ear, then Mary released her and stepped back, her smile now holding a degree of reassurance.

  Felicia couldn’t hold back; she smiled sincerely and more brightly in return, then she recalled herself and bobbed a curtsy. “Welcome to Throgmorton Hall, my lady.”

  Mary’s eyes promptly narrowed, although they still gleamed with happiness. “No ceremony among family—and please, no ‘my ladys.’ Just Mary will do.” With a swift grin that banished her mock-sternness, she swung to Rand and stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Rand. So at last, you’ve found your lady.” Dropping back to her heels, Mary looked expectantly from one to the other. “Please tell me I can wish you happy.”

  Rand looked at Felicia. Briefly, she met his gaze, then she looked at Mary and admitted, “We do plan to marry, but we haven’t told anyone yet.”

  “Excellent!” Mary swooped on Felicia again, kissed her cheek, then linked her arm in Felicia’s and turned her toward the house. “That is such wonderful news!”

  Bemused—amused, as she had a shrewd suspicion her would-be sister-in-law intended—Felicia allowed herself to be towed up the steps. Given Mary was shorter than she, once they reached the porch, it was easy enough to keep pace with her, yet as they passed into the front hall, and Felicia indicated the drawing room door, and they continued in that direction, it became clear that Mary favored a much more energetic stride than the languid glide normally favored by high-born ladies.

  Flora was waiting in the drawing room to greet their guests. Mary bubbled with effervescent charm. After being introduced to Flora, she turned to Felicia. “I realize you would not have been expecting me. Please don’t go to the trouble of making up a separate room—I’m more than happy to share the room you’ve set aside for Ryder.” Her eyes twinkling, she confided, “I would, regardless.”

  Being of an older generation, Flora was faintly shocked, but Felicia found herself smothering a laugh. Mary was nothing like the censorious, hoity lady she had envisioned.

  Then Ryder and Rand walked in, and there were more introductions.

  Felicia found her hand held in Ryder’s warm clasp as with a lazy smile and transparent sincerity, he welcomed her into the Cavanaugh family. Although his gaze appeared as lazy as his smile, she had a shrewd suspicion his hazel-green eyes saw everything there was to see—and then a bit more.

  No matter that Ryder moved slowly and was elegantly dressed, there was no hiding the power in his body—and Felicia received the distinct impression the mind that controlled that power was equally formidable.

  Mary and Ryder were a handsome and intrinsically powerful couple, yet they were also assured, confident, and clearly accepted the prospect of Felicia filling the place at Rand’s side. Both made no bones about their approval of her, and she realized the only criterion they had for Rand’s choice of wife was that Rand had freely chosen her.

  Her inner uncertainty faded and, under the consistent, persistent warmth emanating from both Ryder and Mary, eventually dissipated entirely, and she relaxed.

  While Mary chatted with Flora, the pair comparing their acquaintances to determine if they had any in common, with Ryder, amused, looking on, Rand seized the moment and bent his head to murmur in Felicia’s ear, “Mary is correctly termed a ‘force of nature.’ Unless she wants to do something you don’t want her to, it’s easiest to just let her run.”

  Chuckling, Felicia met his eyes. “So it seems.”

  Shortly afterward, they were waiting for the tea trolley to be ferried in and Mary was telling Rand, Felicia, and Flora of the latest exploits of her and Ryder’s three children, when a soft cough heralded a purring hum—one Rand and Felicia instantly recognized.

  Her eyes widening, she met Rand’s gaze. “William John’s started the engine.”

  They leapt to their feet—with Ryder and Mary a mere second behind. “Which way?” Mary asked.

  “We can go via the terrace.” Rand turned in that direction, but even as he took the first step, the purring started to fade.

  Fade, not stop.

  Felicia seized his sleeve and tugged. “He’s driving the carriage around the house.”

  The four of them rushed into the front hall, with Flora following more slowly. As, her hand in Rand’s, Felicia followed him out of the front door, she glanced back and realized the entire household was hot on their heels and making for the porch.

  She, Rand, Mary, and Ryder halted at the top of the steps. The rest of the household crowded behind them. As they all looked toward the corner of the house, some of Ryder’s men, along with Struthers and Shields, came running along the edge of the drive, waving and cheering.

  Then the carriage came into view, smoothly rolling on its steel-banded wheels around the
corner of the house.

  Perched behind the steering wheel, William John was smiling fit to burst. He steered the carriage into the forecourt, slowing as he approached the steps.

  Then he turned off the engine, and the carriage halted, and he pulled on the brake.

  He beamed up at his audience, then spread his arms wide. “I give you the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage!”

  Everyone—literally everyone—whooped and cheered.

  * * *

  Simple happiness and satisfaction permeated the house. All the staff went about with a smile on their faces, while Flora, Felicia, Rand, and William John couldn’t stop beaming with a combination of relief and exuberant triumph. Mary and Ryder were pleased for them and added to the joy with an indulgent air.

  And as the hours passed and the carriage was further tested and trialed, then driven back into the workshop and locked away, with guards stationed both inside and outside both entrances, a sense of sharp-edged excitement intensified and gripped all those who would travel to the exhibition.

  After dinner—served as usual at six o’clock, as they planned an early start the next morning and Mary and Ryder had denied any need to hold back to a more fashionable hour—the company gathered in the drawing room. Mary sat with Flora on the sofa, with Felicia in the armchair at one end. Mary asked Felicia what the exhibition would be like. Felicia had to confess she didn’t know, never having attended one before. Between them, they speculated, with Flora adding her assumptions to theirs, but as none of them had the slightest experience of such events, it was all truly guesswork.

  Then they noticed that the three men—Rand, Ryder, and William John—were standing before the windows and plainly making plans.

  Mary swiveled to view the three, then, in a commanding tone, called, “Gentlemen.” When all three swung to look at her, she waved them to the armchairs facing the sofa. “Obviously, it’s impossible to make any firm plans without Felicia’s and my input, so might I suggest you join us and we make a start?” Her cornflower-blue eyes wide, in all apparent innocence, she continued, “Don’t forget you’ll need to let Shields and the other men know of our decisions so they’ll be ready when required tomorrow and will also know which way to go.”

  Felicia saw Rand glance at Ryder, but the marquess only smiled amiably and ambled to take the chair opposite his wife. “Indeed, my dear.”

  Rand followed his brother’s lead, with William John, frowning faintly, trailing behind.

  Once the men had claimed their seats, the five of them—with Flora adding a comment here and there—worked through the details of their trip. In the main, the discussion was led and directed by Mary—with the acquiescence of her husband and Rand. While they progressed through the stages of the journey, first to Banbury and thence to Birmingham—with William John contributing his estimations of the carriage’s likely speed, and all three men spending some time discussing the mounted guards and the possible reaction of the horses to the engine—Felicia took due note.

  She couldn’t help but smile.

  Rand had claimed the armchair alongside Felicia’s. After he reported on the accommodation he’d arranged for their party along the way—to general approval—under cover of Mary asking William John what their day at the exhibition might be like, Rand reached across and grasped Felicia’s hand where it rested on the chair’s arm. He’d noticed the small smile playing over her face. When she glanced his way, he arched his brows. “What is it?”

  She studied him for a second, then looked at Mary. “I was thinking that, having seen Mary in action, I now understand how it’s done.”

  He suspected he knew, yet still he asked, “How what’s done?”

  Felicia’s smile deepened, and she met his eyes. “I believe your sister-in-law is teaching me how to manage a husband.”

  Rand uttered a soft groan. “I should have kept you two far apart.”

  “Nonsense—she’s an excellent teacher.”

  Rand shook his head in mock-seriousness. “Mary is a highly corrupting influence, at least in the matter of managing.” He paused, then slanted Felicia a look from beneath his lashes. “Besides”—he lowered his voice—“when it comes to managing me, you need no instruction. As I recall, you ‘managed’ exceedingly well last night.”

  She fought not to laugh, even as a delicate blush tinged her cheeks. “Hush.” She threw him a warning look, but he could tell she was quietly pleased.

  Rand sat back. He continued to hold her hand, feeling her fingers relaxed and accepting under his. As he listened to his brother, his very dear sister-in-law, and his soon-to-be brother-in-law discussing their expectations of the exhibition, he felt peace with a definite undercurrent of contentment roll through him.

  At that moment, his world was perfect—even more perfect than he’d imagined it might be. The Throgmorton steam engine had proved to be an even more impressive invention than anyone could have foreseen, and the lady sitting quietly beside him embodied the promise of a future beyond anything he had dreamed.

  Fate—or whatever power it was that ruled the universe—had moved its various cogs and gears into alignment to raise the prospect of the ultimate result.

  All they needed to do to claim the ultimate prize, with its many ribbons, was get the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage to the exhibition on time.

  CHAPTER 13

  The next morning dawned bright and clear, a brilliant summer day in the heart of England’s green and leafy land. After an early breakfast, the party traveling to the exhibition gathered in the forecourt, packed and ready to depart.

  Although Mary had ridden the relatively short distance from Raventhorne the previous day, Ryder had ordered their traveling coach to follow, and it had arrived later that afternoon. Now, with its team of four horses between the shafts, the coach stood ready on the gravel. The footmen piled Mary’s, Ryder’s, Rand’s, Felicia’s, and William John’s bags into the boot or lashed them onto the roof behind the coachman.

  Then the guards, all mounted and wearing livery—tabards displaying the Raventhorne coat of arms—came clopping down the path from the stable. The Hall household, gathered about Flora on the front porch, chattered and watched. The rising tide of excitement was palpable, investing swift smiles and the rush of action as everyone hurried to take their place.

  As per their deliberations the previous evening, their company formed up in a small cavalcade. It had been decided four riders—three of Ryder’s men plus Shields—would lead the way, followed, at what they hoped would be a safe enough distance of one to two hundred yards, by the steam-powered horseless carriage, with William John at the wheel.

  Rand would sit beside William John, at least for the first leg of the journey, but Ryder, Felicia, and Mary had all stated their wish to ride with William John at some point. All were eager to experience the thrill of bowling along with no horse before them.

  Behind the horseless carriage, separated again by a few hundred yards, would come four more mounted guards, closely followed by the traveling coach, with a pair of outriders bringing up the rear.

  Ryder handed Mary, then Felicia, up into the coach, then shut the door; he’d elected to ride and, if need be, act as a messenger back and forth along their line.

  Mary and Felicia promptly hung out of the windows, just in time to see Rand stride up.

  Rand met Felicia’s eyes, then he looked at Ryder. “Ready?”

  “Quite.” Ryder smiled his lazy smile. “We’re an impressive sight.”

  Rand turned to look along the line, then nodded. “Indeed, and now”—he swung to grin at Mary and Felicia—“it’s time we got under way.” His expression sobered and turned determined. “Keep your eyes peeled.” With that and a brief salute, he strode back up the line.

  Ryder, too, saluted Mary and Felicia, then gathered the reins of his huge gray hunter and swung up to the saddle.


  Distantly, they heard the clatter of horses moving off, then came the soft cough followed by a purring hum they now recognized as the steam-powered engine starting up.

  Mary and Felicia exchanged a look, then both shifted to the other side of the carriage and hung out of the windows to peer ahead and witness the moment. Courtesy of the curve of the drive, they could see the steam-powered carriage, with William John behind the wheel; as the first group of riders had disappeared between the avenue’s trees, the steam carriage was now at the head of the line.

  Rand climbed up to the seat and sat beside William John. The steam carriage purred for another minute—no doubt to let the advance guards get far enough ahead for the horses not to be spooked by the engine—then William John adjusted a lever and the sound of the engine changed; he released the brake, and with a small lurch and the crunch of gravel under its wheels, the steam carriage rattled off.

  The company assembled on the porch gave vent to a resounding cheer.

  William John and Rand responded with triumphant grins and waves.

  Smiling more broadly than she ever had, Felicia watched the steam carriage roll out of sight down the drive, then she sat back, settling against the luxurious leather seat. She saw her own excitement reflected in Mary’s bright-eyed smile and admitted, “This feels like a dream that I hadn’t dared to dream actually coming true. Until Rand arrived, and even in the weeks after that while we struggled to get the invention working as it should, I could never quite imagine that we would ever reach this point—setting off for the exhibition with a working engine leading the way.”

  Mary continued to smile, but faintly—almost wryly—arched her brows. Her gaze drifted to the window beyond which Ryder sat his horse, waiting for the guards ahead of the traveling coach to move off. “One thing you can say about the Cavanaughs,” she confided, “is that they are dogged and never give up.”

  Felicia considered that, then inclined her head. “Those certainly seem to be family traits.”