Stephanie Laurens - The Designs Of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh - #1 New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens returns with an uputdownable new historical romance

With a shake of his head, he strode after William John and started down the stairs.

He had to admit that William John’s performance in the breakfast room had certainly borne out his sister’s view; William John had been utterly oblivious to her presence. He hadn’t even looked her way when Rand had asked her about the footmen.

Rand was well aware that inventors—most of them—behaved in exactly that fashion, that their minds were so blinkered they were aware of nothing beyond their invention. Yet since he’d spoken with Miss Throgmorton, his eyes had been opened to the harm that trait could cause.

There was, sadly, nothing he could do to alter or even ameliorate that.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, raised his head, and surveyed the challenge before him.

William John and the Throgmorton steam engine.

That was a challenge he could do something about.

Although the workshop doors had been closed during the night, they’d been propped open again at daybreak, and the air inside the laboratory-workshop was now fresh and clear.

Rand paused on the last stair and scanned the chamber. With no wafting cloud to obscure his view, he took in the racks and shelves that filled every available foot of wall. Every inch of storage space was crammed with cogs, tubes, pistons, valves, pipes of every conceivable sort, and a cornucopia of engine parts. Two large, moveable racks were hung with a plethora of tools. The paraphernalia for welding was piled on a large trolley.

There were no windows; given the likely frequency of explosions, that was probably a good thing. Instead, a gantry with multiple beams hung from the ceiling; it was rigged with gaslights that, once lit, would shed strong, even light over much of the room.

A large, rectangular frame, roughly five feet long, three feet wide, and reaching to chest height, held pride of place, positioned squarely in the center of the space between the stairs and the double doors. Suspended within the frame was the steam engine designed to power the Throgmorton version of John Russell’s modification of Trevithick’s horseless carriage.

Although presently smudged with soot and grease and liberally sprinkled with coal dust, the engine was a gleaming mass of copper and steel pipes and cylinders, of connections and joints and screws. The body was smaller than Rand had expected, between three and four feet long and possibly the same in width, and about two feet in height. Regardless, the combination of solidity and complexity made it an impressive sight.

There was no carriage, only the engine; the frame supported the engine’s body at bench level so William John could easily poke and prod and tinker, as he was presently doing, crouched on the other side of the frame.

Unfortunately, it was obvious that the engine wouldn’t be working anytime soon. The gleaming boiler that was essentially the heart of the contraption was ruptured, its sides peeled back like a banana skin.

Frowning slightly, Rand stepped down to the workshop floor. The flagstones were littered with bits and pieces of metal. One of the tool racks had been tipped back over the welding equipment, and tools lay scattered amid the debris.

Something metallic crunched under Rand’s boot, and he halted.

William John straightened and, across the wreck of the boiler, smiled at Rand. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Rand couldn’t stop his brows from rising. “I’ll have to take your word for that.” He glanced around, peering deeper into the far reaches of the chamber that extended beneath the house. “Where’s the carriage part of it?” He glanced at William John. “It is built, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes.” His gaze almost lovingly cataloguing what remained of the engine, William John went on, “We keep it in the stable, tucked safely away. We won’t bother putting the engine into the carriage until we have the engine working perfectly.”

Rand hid his relief and nodded at the blown boiler. “That certainly appears wise.” He hesitated, then said, “Your sister mentioned you’d blown several boilers over the past weeks.”

William John frowned at the engine. “We—Papa and I—redesigned the feed of heat off the burner to the boiler. We increased the efficiency and therefore the steam generated, but that’s led to difficulties with the mechanisms downstream, especially the controls. We can achieve smooth and significant acceleration, but deceleration...” His frown deepened. “Papa died before we’d fixed the problem, and up to now, everything I’ve tried... Well, I’ve improved the system to the point we can accelerate and decelerate once, but further acceleration seems to be cumulative, and then...” William John gestured at the ruptured boiler. “I still haven’t got it right.”

Footsteps coming down the stairs had both William John and Rand glancing that way. “Ah,” William John said, “this will be Corby, plus Joe and Martin, the footmen.”

A dapper-looking man of fifty or so appeared. He halted, and the two footmen 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.”