The Designs Of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh: #1 New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens returns with an uputdownable new historical romance. Stephanie Laurens
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Rand had previously seen halted on the stairs behind.
The older man bowed to Rand. “My lord.” Then he looked at William John. “Are you ready for us to tidy the place, sir?”
“Yes, please, Corby.” William John’s wave encompassed the entire workshop. “Sweep, tidy, and clean. All of you know where most things go. As usual, if you find any bit of metal or tool that you don’t recognize, just leave it on the bench”—William John pointed to a workbench set to one side—“and I’ll sort it out later.”
Rand watched the footmen walk deeper into the chamber and return with brooms and brushes. Corby pulled out a bag of rags tucked behind some piping. While the footmen started sweeping, Corby commenced lovingly wiping the pipes and cylinders of the engine, removing the grime that coated them.
Rand looked at William John. The younger man was frowning vaguely at the engine and muttering under his breath. Rand circled the engine and halted beside William John. “Explain to me how the engine works. Start at the point where you turn it on.”
All vagueness dropping from him, William John eagerly and enthusiastically complied.
Rand put his mind to ensuring he understood. When William John went too rapidly, he stopped him and hauled him back.
William John traced the path of the steam from the ignition of coal in the box beneath the boiler, through the various modifications he and his father had made to the way the steam was generated within the boiler before it moved through the complicated series of pipes, cylinders, and valves to the piston chambers—also modified—that would ultimately drive the twin shafts to turn the horseless carriage’s wheels.
The explanation took time. They walked from one side of the engine to the other as William John pointed to this and that.
Relatively early in the exercise, Shields came down the stairs and offered his services to Corby, who readily accepted and set Rand’s man to wiping off the grime deposited on the various racks of equipment.
While William John declaimed and Rand questioned, Rand noticed their four helpers paid closer and closer attention. He had to admit the mechanism of the engine—that such a thing could work—was enthralling.
“And finally”—William John indicated a set of levers mounted on a panel attached to the frame—“these are the controls that allow us to manage the output.”
“And that,” Rand said, “is where things are going wrong.”
“Yes, but not with the levers themselves. They’re fairly simple and should work perfectly, at least in what they do. It’s the result of what happens that’s out of...well, control.” William John frowned. “Once we have a new boiler in place, I’ll be able to show you what I mean.” He pointed at a row of gauges that were mounted on the engine, facing where Rand assumed the driver would sit. “I’ve a suspicion it’s something to do with these gauges and the valves they’re connected to that’s causing the buildup of steam in the boiler, but until we have the new boiler in, I won’t be able to investigate.”
Rand bit back a comment to the effect that they didn’t have time to investigate anything. Fix, yes. Explore and investigate, no.
William John turned to survey the state of the workshop. Rand followed his gaze, noting that the floors were once more clear of debris, the tool racks and welding equipment had been straightened and wiped clean, and the engine was now gleaming and free of all smuts.
William John smiled. “Thank you, gentlemen—if you’ve finished with your tidying, let’s make a start on removing this.” With one hand, he thumped the side of the ruptured boiler.
Both footmen and Shields, plainly curious, put away their implements and readily drew near. Corby tucked his rags away and joined the group.
Rand stepped back and watched as William John, wielding a wrench and directing the others on what he needed them to do, set about releasing the gaskets that locked the ruptured copper boiler in place amid the plethora of tubes and pipes.
When it came to doing anything to his invention, Rand had to admit that William John remained unrelentingly focused. No hint of vagueness intruded as he loosened this nut, then that, all the while telling Shields, Joe, and Martin just where to put their hands as they supported the boiler as well as the various loosened pipes, tubes, gauges, and valves. Corby hovered, handing tools to his master as and when required.
Leaving them to their task, Rand drifted to the open double doors. Pausing on the threshold, he looked out and around. The paved area before the doors was level with the floor of the workshop, with only a narrow drain set between two rows of flagstones to allow rain to drain away rather than spread under the doors and into the workshop. Straight ahead, a walled kitchen garden lay on the other side of the paved area. Beyond it, a swath of lawn was bordered by the surrounding woodland. To the right, lawns stretched away, eventually joining the south lawn, while to the left, a gravel path, more than wide enough for a carriage, ran along the side of the house and around the northeast corner.
Rand raised his gaze and, beyond a short stretch of lawn, saw the end of the stable block; presumably, the path was an extension of the section of the drive that linked the forecourt and the stable. He could appreciate the foresight; once the engine was working, the path would make it easy to bring the carriage-body to the workshop.
On turning back into the workshop, he spied a series of pulleys and thick chains piled with a conglomeration of heavy beams and iron struts in a corner near the doors. Presumably a part of the mechanism by which the engine would be lifted out of its supporting frame and lowered into the carriage.
Rand surveyed the workshop—the racks and shelves, the purpose-built frame and benches. It was clear the Throgmorton males had spent considerable time and thought—and expense—on their favored domain. Despite Miss Throgmorton’s plaint that the rest of the house was invisible to her father and brother—something Rand suspected was true—he doubted the men’s devotion to their workspace had contributed to keeping Miss Throgmorton out of it.
That she hadn’t been down there for over a decade...he had to wonder why.
With a rattle and a clang, Shields and Martin hauled on cables connected to a smaller set of pulleys attached to the ceiling above the engine. William John and Joe held back tubes and pipes, and, with a screech of metal on metal, the ruptured boiler rose out of the body of the engine.
“Excellent.” William John released the parts he’d been holding, seized the freed boiler, and guided it away from the rest of the engine, toward the open space before the doors. “Let’s set it down here. Gently, now.”
Shields and Martin let the cables out slowly, and the boiler lowered to the floor.
“Right.” William John signaled, then released the webbing that had cradled the boiler. Straightening, he looked down at the twisted metal.
Rand joined him. “It looks like the seams gave way.”
William John humphed. “Indeed.” He crouched and ran his hands over the sides of the boiler. “I wonder if we can beat it out and resolder...”
Rand stared at the crumpled, folded-back metal. “No. We can’t.” He’d learned enough from other inventors about the risks one ran in resoldering such things—namely an increased risk of re-rupturing. “The second soldered seam will be weaker than the first.” William John looked up, and Rand caught the younger man’s eyes. “We don’t have time to take that risk. If it explodes again, we’ll have lost days and got no further. We need a new boiler.”
William John stared at him for a moment, then grimaced. “Yes. You’re right. I keep forgetting...”
About the exhibition and their deadline. From their earlier discussions, Rand had already realized that. He turned his mind to the logistics required. “I assume you have a cart we can use to ferry the boiler to the nearest blacksmith’s. He can reuse the metal, which will get us a better price on the replacement.”
His gaze on the destroyed