Smiling, Felicia faced forward. She shared a look with Rand, who grinned. Then he looked across the engine compartment at William John and nodded. “Your call.”
With literally everyone bar Flora actively assisting, it took another ten minutes to get the engine compartment positioned to perfection beneath the engine, and then the men, who had been grunting and shifting as they continued to support the weight of the engine, lowered the beast slowly—and then even more slowly as William John and Rand shifted it fractionally so that its foot plates with their bolt holes were perfectly aligned with the supports inside the carriage—until finally, the engine touched the supports. William John and Rand did a last frantic check, reported that the positioning couldn’t be bettered, and at last, the engine was set fully down, the chains went lax, and the Throgmorton Steam-Powered Horseless Carriage was almost complete.
Relief rippled through everyone, then excitement soared, even more heightened—more expectant—than before.
Then Mrs. Reilly gathered the female staff, and in a group, they headed back around the house to resume their normal duties. After waving to Felicia, Flora followed.
Rand came to help Felicia to descend from the carriage’s seat. William John had already turned to instruct the men in moving the gantry away from the carriage. With grunts and much muttering, with all the men lending a hand, they half lifted, half pushed the massive gantry by degrees until it was clear of the carriage.
William John directed Shields, Struthers, and Johnson to, between them, roll the now-empty frame around the carriage and back into the workshop. While they took care of that, William John, assisted by the other men, fell to dismantling the gantry.
Taking the structure apart required much less time than it had taken to put it together. Leaving the men to carry the individual beams, struts, and bracing into the workshop, William John came to stand beside Felicia and Rand and study the engine sitting snugly in its compartment. “Now to hook everything together.”
He swung about and disappeared into the workshop, only to reappear seconds later pushing one of his racks of tools. He angled it beside the carriage, then extracted a board with wheels on one face, set the contraption on the flagstones, then he picked up a wrench, lay flat on the board, and grinned up at Felicia and Rand. “Wish us luck.” William John kissed the wrench, then with his feet propelled himself under the engine.
Fascinated, Rand and Felicia bent to look and saw William John screwing in the large bolts that would hold the engine in place.
After a moment, Felicia asked, “How long will it take to connect everything so we can test the carriage as a whole?”
William John paused in his tightening, then replied, “An hour at least. More likely two.”
She straightened and looked down at his feet. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it.”
“No sense in hanging about,” William John blithely confirmed. “If I want anything, I’ll call one of the men, but most of what needs to be done in hooking everything up is down to me.”
Rand grinned and, with Felicia, moved away from the carriage. “He sounds happy as a grig.”
“Indeed.” Felicia couldn’t stop smiling herself. She looked back at the carriage as they strolled toward the terrace. “I can barely believe we’re nearly there.”
She
and Rand shared an expectant glance—then the sound of many horses clopping up the gravel drive reached their ears.
Rand’s face lit. “That, I believe, will be the party from Raventhorne.”
“Oh.” Felicia halted and looked down at her green cambric gown. She shook out the skirts and hoped they weren’t too crushed; at least she’d managed to avoid any grease. Raising her gaze, she met Rand’s eyes. “Is my hair still neat?”
He smiled reassuringly, drew her nearer, and linked his arm with hers. “Don’t worry. I seriously doubt Ryder will notice.”
“But he’s a marquess.”
“Yes, he is, but he’s not at all high in the instep, not unless someone annoys him—and trust me, you won’t.”
They diverted into the workshop and, dodging around the men stowing the pieces of the gantry away, made for the stairs to the front hall. As they climbed, she shot Rand a glance, but his expression stated he was looking forward to seeing his brother, so she bit back her uncertainties and hurried on.
They stepped into the hall just as Johnson swung the front door wide.
She approached the doorway, with Rand immediately behind her.
The sight that met her eyes had them widening.
A large body of horsemen was milling in the forecourt.
She knew Rand had asked his brother to send a troop of reinforcements to help guard the carriage, so the number of men didn’t come as a shock. Similarly, the tall, tawny-haired, exceedingly well-set-up gentleman standing beside a huge dappled gray was no great surprise; Rand had expected his brother to accompany his men.
What did make Felicia blink and slow, then halt—balk—on the threshold was the raven-haired beauty in an exquisitely cut riding dress that the marquess—it had to be he—was in the process of lifting down from the back of a superb black Arab.
Viewing the scene from behind her, affection and amused resignation in his tone, Rand murmured, “I might have guessed—Mary’s come as well.”