Rand shared a glance with Felicia, who had halted on the last stair, then dryly murmured, “Indeed.”
Felicia turned to the others, arrayed on the stairs behind her. “All’s well. Someone must have tried to force the doors, but no one got through.”
“Should we check outside?” Shields looked at Rand, as did both footmen.
Remembering the figure he’d seen fleeing into the night, Rand shook his head. “Whoever they were, they’ll be long gone.” And with so much woodland all around, their chances of catching anyone were slight. “But I believe we must treat this as the sign it unquestionably is. Someone knows of the Throgmorton engine and has, tonight, targeted it.”
Rand glanced at Felicia.
She nodded slightly, in support.
He looked at the others and went on, “We’ll need to mount a guard—despite the alarm mechanism, several men, acting together, might think to push past it and damage the engine before fleeing.” He focused on Shields, Corby, and the footmen. “We’ll need two men here at all times during the night.”
Corby exchanged a glance with Shields, then volunteered, “I’ll draw up a roster. We’ve Struthers and his lads from the stable, too, so it shouldn’t be too much for anyone.”
Rand nodded. “After the recent excitement, I’m sure we’ll be safe for the rest of the night. Whoever it was who tried to break in will need to regroup.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. All except William John, who was still admiring his successful alarm mechanism.
Rand tipped his head in dismissal and turned to William John. While Felicia urged everyone to return to their beds, Rand, with William John, checked that the doors were, indeed, still shut tight. William John assured Rand that as long as the bars were set in their place—as they were—the alarm system could be relied on to give notice should anyone attempt the doors again.
Stepping back, looking up, and smiling at the alarm mechanism, William John sighed happily. “Papa would have been so pleased.”
Again, Rand met Felicia’s eyes, then, at her direction, William John turned off the gaslights, and he and Rand followed her up the stairs.
Felicia paused in the hall. The rest of the household had already reached the gallery and were dispersing to their rooms. She turned to William John—and Rand, who was closing the workshop door, something William John hardly ever remembered to do.
One glance at William John’s face informed her that her brother was overwhelmingly delighted at the perfect performance of one of his inventions and remained untouched by any apprehension over what had caused the alarm to go off.
Rand, on the other hand, looked as concerned as she felt. It was more to him than William John that she said, “After the alarm went off, I saw a man run away from the house and plunge into the woods.”
William John blinked.
Rand regarded her levelly. “Heading past the rose garden?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
His jaw set. “I saw him, too.” He grimaced. “There’s so little moonlight, I didn’t get a decent look at him.”
“Nor did I.” She saw the question forming in Rand’s eyes and stated, “And no, he didn’t look familiar in any way, but it was so quick and the light so poor, I couldn’t swear it wasn’t Mayhew, either.”
William John frowned. “I thought we’d decided the artist was no threat.”
“That’s what we’d concluded,” Rand agreed, “but that doesn’t mean our assessment was correct. It seems a trifle too coincidental that Mayhew appears in the area, inveigles an invitation to the Hall, visits, and hours later, in the dead of night, someone tries to break into your workshop.” He looked at Felicia. “Cast your mind back. Did Mayhew do or say anything at all that might suggest he’d noticed the workshop?”
“No.” She frowned, thinking back yet again. “As I said earlier, I’m not even sure he saw the doors. If he did glimpse them, he certainly paid them no attention at all.” She paused, then shook herself and fixed her gaze on Rand. “Regardless, Mayhew is supposed to return tomorrow—no, today.” A quick glance at the longcase clock against the hall wall confirmed it was nearly two o’clock. “He said he would come in the early afternoon to do his sketch. If it was he who tried the workshop doors, perhaps he won’t turn up. But if he does...”
Rand grunted and waved her and William John toward the stairs. “If he does, either he’s the innocent artist we all think him, or he possesses enough nerve to be a real threat to the invention.”
“We still won’t know, though, will we?” William John climbed the stairs on her other side.
“We’ll simply have to remain vigilant,” Rand replied.
He and Felicia parted from William John at the head of the stairs. Side by side, they walked around the gallery and down the corridor that led to their rooms. Rand reached his door. He paused with his hand on the knob, then inclined his head and, through the dimness, wished her a goodnight.
She returned the salutation and continued to her room. Once inside with the door firmly shut, she exhaled.
Despite all the excitement and distractions, keeping her gaze from Rand’s chest, the solid muscles and impressive width imperfectly concealed behind the screen of his fine linen shirt, had required far more effort than she’d liked. Yet she’d clung to her composure and had managed well enough; she doubted he or anyone else had noticed her difficulties.