The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh (The Cavanaughs 1) - Page 67

When Rand opened his eyes, the sun was well up, and soft sunshine streamed across the foot of the bed. During the night, he’d turned onto his stomach, and Felicia—his wife bar the ceremony—lay facing him, her head on the pillow beside his.

From beneath still-heavy lids, he drank in the sight of her and felt his heart swell. She was, quite simply, the woman for him.

As his mind drifted over the events of the night—the feelings, the sensations, the glory—awareness tugged at his mind.

Something had woken him. What?

Then he saw Felicia’s fine brows draw down, a slight frown forming, then her lashes rose.

She looked into his eyes. For several heartbeats, they stared at each other—the simple fact of them sharing a bed underscoring just how much between them had changed since the previous day.

Her gaze softened, and her lips curved. But then the frown, which had lightened, returned.

She blinked and, still frowning, lifted her head from the pillow. “What’s that noise?”

Rand turned to his side and came up on one elbow, looking down the bed toward the source of a distant rumbling. That was what had woken him—an unexpected cough, followed by that purring murmur.

It was coming from outside...

He looked at Felicia as she turned to look at him.

Dawning realization lit both their faces.

“It’s the engine,” she breathed.

They both looked toward the window. The noise had to be escaping through the open workshop doors.

Rand flicked a glance at the carriage clock on Felicia’s dressing table. “It’s barely six o’clock.” He looked back at the window. “William John must have thought of something.”

Her brother had spent the previous afternoon and evening working feverishly to repair the damage from and rectify the cause of the latest setback.

Felicia was listening intently to the steady purr; in the quiet of the morning, it was just loud enough to reach them. The thrum of sound remained steady, but the tone changed—increasing in pitch, then decreasing, then, after several minutes, increasing smoothly again.

On tenterhooks, she waited, but no sudden bang or even a hiccup disturbed the steady, rumbling purr.

Then, from below, they heard William John bellow to the morning, “It works!”

Felicia looked at Rand, wonder in her face. “He’s fixed it!”

Rand met her eyes, then together, they thrust back the covers and lunged for their clothes.

Minutes later, Rand stuffed his cravat into his coat pocket and opened the bedroom door for Felicia. She’d thrown on a day gown, but hadn’t bothered with petticoats; the material of her skirt clung to her hips and legs as she hurried along the gallery and down the stairs ahead of him.

It was so early, none of the staff were yet about. Other than the steady purring of the engine, no other sound disturbed the morning quiet.

They hit the tiles of t

he front hall, and Rand strode to the door to the stairs leading down. He flung open the door and led the way.

He and Felicia all but leapt down to the workshop floor, where William John, his expression ecstatic, was literally dancing around the engine, which continued to thrum smoothly, the gears rotating, the drive shafts smoothly engaging and thrusting.

William John saw them. “Watch this!” Gleefully, he paused by his temporary control board and shifted the handle that controlled a lever. The engine smoothly accelerated, gears and shafts moving faster and faster, then he held the handle steady, halfway to full speed, and the sound leveled and all movement continued at the increased pace. “Keep watching!” He lowered the handle, returning it to its original position, and the engine slowed, but didn’t stop.

“That’s it!” William John spread his arms, encompassing the entire machine. “The riddles are all solved, and it works exactly as Papa intended.”

Felicia seemed unable to drag her eyes from the purring engine. Rand could understand; after all their efforts, the disappointments and frustrations, to see it working, apparently so effortlessly, was breathtaking.

Beaming in delight, William John bounded to Felicia, caught her hands in his, and swung her into his mad dance. “Balance!” he declared. “It was all about balance—just like you said.”

Tags: Stephanie Laurens The Cavanaughs Romance
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