Saving the Scientist

by Riley Cole

Edison touched his forelock. “Great scot. I’m a simpleton. Apologies, my lord.”

  The man sent him a scathing glare and stalked off, his cane slashing at imaginary foes.

  “Far worse indeed.” Edison turned to Ada. “I knew we men could be thickheaded sots, but I had no idea the fools you have to suffer.”

  She gave him a wan smile. “It does wear on one at times.”

  Spottswood was already almost to the Old Admiralty building. Edison watched until he disappeared inside. Distance did nothing to ease his concern.

  The open spaces fronting Whitehall’s distinguished landmarks suddenly felt too exposed for his liking.

  “This meeting was far too coincidental.” No longer concerned with hiding his interest, Edison peered at every figure, every shadow in the vicinity, searching for the mysterious figure. “Spottswood has the means and the motivation to seek your device.”

  Ada turned her back on the Admiralty. “He’s jealous. The only thing he’s managed to invent is an automatic stamp licker. Reports are it doesn’t even work as advertised.”

  “Jealousy’s a powerful motivator. All the more so when mixed with hate.” He studied the surrounding area, searching for the dark figure. Spottswood could have been setting them up, delaying them until his men could get into position.

  Ada stared back at the Admiralty.“He hates me, doesn’t he?”

  “Small minded men hate any woman who challenges their superiority.”

  “Hmmm. That does put things in a better light. I’m much happier being disdained on general principle.” Ada touched his sleeve. “Thank you for—”

  Edison raised his palm, silencing her.

  There it was again, a dark-jacketed figure slipping out of sight behind a marble column.

  An irritated growl escaped her parted lips. “You were saying? Something about cabbage-headed men?”

  “We need to get out of here.” He waved at her to follow him. “We’ll stay to the center of the pavement until we get to Trafalgar Square. There’ll be an omnibus along soon.”

  Ada stuffed the silly hat onto her head with an angry gesture. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” He glanced behind them, needing to locate their pursuer.

  “Were we not just this second discussing the lamentable tendency for men to run roughshod over—”

  “We’re being followed.” Edison put a hand to the small of her back, urging her onward. “You can insult me later.”

  Back straight, wide brim of her hat quivering, Ada surged forward fast enough to evade his touch. “Be assured, I shall take you up on that offer, Mr. Sweet.”

  Chapter 7

  Ada scanned the opening lines of the sensation novel then slammed it shut and shoved it back into the display outside the bookshop. No one could survive an explosion like that. Anyone with any sense at all would know iodine combined with ammonia would produce a hellish firestorm of a reaction. And yet the heroine had escaped unharmed, but for a few smudges to her nightgown and a bad case of amnesia.

  Rubbish.

  She grabbed another title from the display. Perhaps she wasn’t giving the books a fair try. Even if she had an inclination toward pleasure reading—which she decidedly did not—the noxious mix of anger and fear roiling about in her stomach would have made concentration impossible.

  Intent on chasing down their shadow, Edison has stuck her in front of the bookseller’s display with instructions to thumb through the offerings while he circled back to trap their pursuer.

  He hadn’t asked. Hadn’t sought her opinion or her consent. He simply acted.

  She wasn’t sure what angered her more, his high-handed manner or the idiocy of his paper-thin plan. If one could refer to a spur-of-the-moment impulse as a plan. A thousand things could go wrong. She’d already thought of at least ten.

  There could be more than one person following them.

  The man could be armed.

  He could render Edison unconscious.

  Or kill him.

  Despite her anger, the thought made her hands shake and her knees tremble.

  His presence the past few days had forced her to realize her device attracted danger. Real danger, not some theoretical possibility.

  A something woman sidled up next to her and plucked a book from the display. “Have you read the latest Caldwell Nance? I think he’s divine. Such daring heroines. If only we could have such excitement!”

  Ada eyed the row of titles. “I’m not sure it wouldn’t grow tiresome, all that chasing about. The explosions alone would be exhausting.”

  The woman gave her an odd look and moved off, the novel clutched to her ample bosom.

  Ada sighed. The whole thing was tiresome, really. She wanted her life back. Wanted quiet and tranquility and safety. Safety wasn’t such an outrageous wish, was it?

  She wasn’t like Edison or his league. They thrived on danger, on hidden threats and physical challenges. She wanted to spend an afternoon in her laboratory, puzzling over chemicals.

  Each experiment held surprises, but whatever caught her off-guard was the result of some logical process, a process she could discover and repeat with unerring success.

  Ada moved to the last of the bookshelves that abutted the clothier’s store to her right. A travel ensemble, dove gray with clean, spare lines and a white blouse, saved from severity by a charming edging of lace at the collar, caught her eye.

  But not her heart.

  She had no yearning to travel. She’d have no use for the sturdy leather gladstone slung across the mannequin’s torso. The clever buckled passport pocket would only go empty.

  The truth was, she had no desire for excitement in her life.

  All the more reason to finish this business with her device, hand it over to the men charged with utilizing it, and bid Edison Sweet and his family goodbye.

  If he didn’t end up dead before then.

  Where the devil was he, anyway?

  In direct defiance of his instructions, she took a good, long look around the area. Men rushed to catch a horse-drawn trolley. Tourists threw handfuls of breadcrumbs to the plump pigeons waddling about beneath Nelson’s column.

  The sun shone down on the square, making the water sparkle and the grimy, soot-stained facades of the buildings shine a little brighter than they might have.

  Her mood, on the other hand, was darkening by the second.

  If the blasted man had gotten himself killed, she’d—

  “I believe I found something of yours.” Edison’s hearty voice boomed.

  She whirled around to see him striding toward her, dragging a figure along by his collar as if he were a freshly caught fish.

  Ada sagged back against the brickwork. “Archie?”

  Edison shoved him forward, planting himself at his back. “Not who I was expecting.”

  Archie sneered at her. “You’re going to lose it. Someone stronger and smarter than you is going to get that battery.” His upper lip curled in the most unattractive manner. “Might as well be me.”

  The fury in his words cut her. He’d never cared for her. Nor she for him, but to see such outright hatred…

  She shifted her gaze to Edison’s face, but had to turn away from the soft pity in his eyes. For the second time, she thought she might dissolve into tears.

  Not that she’d do such a thing in front of her step-brother. She’d rather blow up her battery, burn all her notes, than let him guess he affected her so.

  “That is never going to happen.” Edison shoved him forward. “Where are the toughs you hired?”

  Archie shrugged. “They weren’t worth the money.” He glared at Ada, his dark eyes hot with anger. “I should have grabbed your damned device myself. Wouldn’t have to waste my day sniffing about at your heels if I had.”

  “But it’s not yours.” Ada wanted to stand toe to toe with him, but her legs were trembling. “You have no right—”

  “You have no right,” he yelled. “You have no right to parade about like
a man, acting as if you were some sort of scientist, calling attention to yourself like a streetwalker.” Red splotches stained his thin cheeks. “You’re an embarrassment. You’re ruining my life.”

  Ada opened her mouth to protest his ridiculous accusations, but it was too late.

  Fingers twisted into brother’s starched shirt, Edison jerked him close. “Just wait until I get you out of view Wells, then we’ll see who’s an embarrassment.”

  She couldn’t have said whether it was the violent emotions swirling about, or the fact that someone had stood up for her for the first time in her life, whatever the cause, Ada felt decidedly lightheaded.

  Edison set Archie back on his feet. “You best run as fast and as far as you can. If I find you anywhere near Mrs. Templeton again, you won’t be running anywhere for a very long time.” He released Archie’s collar, using the motion to send him stumbling backwards.

  Archie sneered at her. “You never were any good at being a woman. If your father hadn’t made his friend marry you, you’d be a dried up old spinster instead of a dried up old widow.” He tossed his head back as if trying to look down his nose at her. “Not that there’s any difference.”

  Before Ada could formulate a response, Archie scuttled off into the crowd.

  Edison reached for her hand. “He’s a dirty piece of work. You don’t deserve that.”

  Still whirling from brother’s firestorm of anger, she could only nod.

  The sad smile that curved his lips almost undid her. She picked at the dried apple stems on her hat, trying to focus on anything but Archie’s hatred, trying to dissipate it with logic and reason.

  But like sulfur in water, unpleasant emotions proved difficult to dissolve.

  And truly, she was done with it. Done with being afraid. Done with being shoved from this place to that. Being followed. Terrorized.

  She needed her life back.

  And she would get it.

  Once she delivered the battery, there would be no need of protection. No need for vigilance. She could have her experiments and her peaceful home.

  * * *

  It was early, far earlier than Edison generally rose. The garden, frost covered and silent, was only just visible in the weak morning light.

  Which accounted for the fact that he and Ada were the only ones at the breakfast table.

  Edison flicked an underdone slice of bacon to the side of his plate. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  A soft scratching sound filled the quiet room as Ada scraped the burnt edges off her toast. “Not a bit.” She smiled at him. “Too excited.”

  “Of course.” He paused, trying to think of something profound to add. He wanted to convey his respect, his admiration for her mind and her fortitude over the past few days, but nothing he constructed seemed adequate to the task.

  For once he wished he were good with words instead of metal and machines and muscle.

  In the space of a few days, he’d grown fond of Mrs. Ada Templeton. Far fonder than he would have imagined, given her prickly nature and his own fervent wish to remain uninvolved and unentangled.

  And still, she was not uninterested in him.

  The coddled eggs in the dish below mocked him. He stabbed the yolks with his fork. They would never suit, not for more than a day or a week or a few splendid months.

  She was too stubborn.

  He was too cavalier.

  She would nudge and command and manage the living soul right out of him.

  He’d break her heart.

  Best to get her and her battery to safety and call it done.

  He eyed her across the table. “I’ll escort you as far as the navy will allow.”

  “They’ll only turn you away.” She set down her toast. “You heard the admiral. The laboratory location is highly guarded. Only those with a need to know are allowed in.”

  “I have a need. Seeing that you and your device arrive safely is a need.”

  “That’s not exactly—”

  Beecham stuck his head in the doorway, interrupting her. “The carriage has arrived.” He managed to infuse even that short statement with a heaping dose of irritation.

  Edison indulged in a momentary daydream featuring the last of his coddled eggs sliding down the man’s shirt front.

  Eyes widening, Ada dropped her spoon. “They’re early.” She jumped up from the table and tossed down her serviette. “Show them in. The luggage in the foyer is ready to load.”

  “Madam.” Her toad of a butler left.

  Edison rose as well and followed her out the door. “There’s no reason for me not to join you.”

  “There are numerous reasons.”

  “None of them make the least sense.”

  “To you.”

  “The rest of the league is capable of protecting your grandmother and the staff. They’re capable of protecting this entire neighborhood. I’m of better use watching over you.”

  “The navy should be up to the task, I should think.” She marched straight through the front hall and up the stairs. “They’ve all sorts of battleships and frigates to spare. How many could it require to see to one woman and a few assorted boxes?”

  At the end of the upper hall, she opened a door into the sewing room.

  He leaned against the edge of the doorway and folded his arms over his chest, watching her pull an overflowing basket of rags from its spot in the corner. She huffed and pulled back hard. The basket seemed far heavier than a pile of clothing would suggest.

  He grinned. She had done it, hadn’t she? Outfoxed him five ways to Sunday. “The mending pile? You stashed an astounding scientific breakthrough under old socks and torn aprons?”

  “You never found it.”

  “Good point.”

  And he had searched. He searched every cupboard, every shed and closet and cubbyhole on the whole estate. He’d searched the closet not three feet from the damned basket.

  “No one would. It’s a woman’s place.” She stood and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “Just an unimportant lump of used clothing.”

  “Right in the open.” His grin widened, stretching the muscles at the corners of his lips.

  “Exactly.” Her chest heaving with exertion, she bent forward again to inch the heavy basket further out into the room.

  Edison moved to help her. One hearty pull and he had the thing out in the open.

  She scooped the pile of fabric off of the top and smiled up at him with the joy of a child opening a Christmas package. Her emotion cut right to his core, bubbling upward, through his chest, filling him with sunshine.

  He tried not to let the power of it rock him back on his heels. For an instant, it seemed as if he shared her bliss, her pride in creating something others had sought for so very long.

  It was a magnificent creation. Solidly built and encased in a gleaming brass cylinder, the design alone impressed.

  “Allow me.” Edison lifted it out of the basket and held it out at arm’s length, admiring the workmanship. It was heavy. Heavy as granite of a similar size might be. She wouldn’t be able to carry it far on her own.

  Ada plucked off a stray sock caught on the terminals at the top and stepped back.

  He turned it from side to side, studying the expert welds seaming the casing. About two feet high and two feet around, it was more of an oval than a strict cylinder. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” She caressed the edges of the terminals. “Packs far more voltage than I thought possible.”

  “Impressing the Royal Navy isn’t a small thing.”

  “I suppose not.” She ran a finger around the top edge. “After all the upheaval, I’ll be glad to have it off my hands.” She lifted her hand away and curled her fingers into her palm. Sadness seemed to darken her eyes. “I confess, I never thought I’d say that.”

  Edison hefted it a few inches higher. “Don’t blame you. This has turned into a nasty business.” He set it back in the basket. “Ada please, at least allow me to see you th
rough the carriage ride. Foolish to refuse.”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been accused of that particular character flaw.” She touched his arm. “But don’t think I’m not grateful. The way you handled Archie, and that stoat, Spottswood. Impressive.”

  He hung his head, not wanting to appear anything less than humble at her praise.

  None of it had been difficult.

  Watching her flit about her workshop, smelling of lilac and lemons, her attention riveted by measurements and chemicals and potions. Knowing he couldn’t pursue her.

  That had been difficult.

  He looked up. Her fingers were twisted into a knot at her waist, and she was looking at his face, looking for something he couldn’t pinpoint.

  He cleared his throat.

  “As I was saying, it has been… interesting.” She gave him a small smile. “You and your league are a most remarkable group of souls. Very… adventurous.”

  “Adventurous.” He squinted at her, trying to divine whether that was a good thing. Her tone had been noncommittal.

  “Yes, well, if you wouldn’t mind?” She pointed at the battery, nestled in its wicker basket. “That should be the last task.”

  “Should be.” He hefted the device and started out of the room.

  Should be at that.

  Damn it to hell.

  Ada’s escort stood shoulder to shoulder at the bottom of the stairs. Three uniformed men, one captain in his officer’s uniform, and two seamen.

  It didn’t signify, of course, but a quick stab of jealousy hit him when he realized she’d be spending the first part of the journey in the company of a spit-shined navy man.

  Ada greeted the men and grabbed her traveling cloak and gloves from the hatstand by the door.

  Edison shouldered the device, preparing to load it into the carriage before saying his goodbyes, but before they were out the door, Meena and Spencer headed down the stairs in their robes, looking sleepy and suspiciously sated, to his eye.

  Behind them, the elderly Mrs. Fogle and her companion descended a sight more slowly.

  “Have we missed the parlor games?” the old woman shouted out. “I do so want to play a hand or two of Faro.”