Saving the Scientist

by Riley Cole

  Briar squared off about three feet from her cousin and raised her fists as if she were a pugilist preparing for a bareknuckle bout. “Show her the chin snap.”

  Meena shook her arms out and nodded at her cousin.

  Briar lunged, hands reaching for Meena’s throat. Just as her fingers curled into Meena’s collar, the shorter woman jabbed the heel of her hand upward, toward Briar’s chin. The women then demonstrated in slow motion how Meena’s blow would have snapped Briar’s head back most viciously.

  But they weren’t finished.

  As if moving underwater, Briar simulated how the blow would throw her backwards. Now Meena attacked, stepping forward as Briar stumbled back. She grabbed Briar’s shirtfront, pretending to pull her forward by a tie or a shirt collar. Once Briar’s upper body bent forward, Meena raised her knee. Had they been moving in real time, she would have slammed the top of her knee into Briar’s nose.

  “And that,” Briar said as she whirled to face Ada, “would be that.”

  “Fascinating!” Ada pressed her hands to her chest. “But you’ve been studying for years, the both of you.”

  “True,” Briar said. “You could join us. There’s the most delightful group of forward-thinking women at Master Tadeoka’s studio. It’s growing rapidly, isn’t it Meena?”

  Meena was studying Ada. “Briar’s right. You should consider it. You’d fit in wonderfully.”

  How delightful that sounded. New friends. New skills to acquire.

  Whether she and Edison continued their liaison or not, she supposed she was free to socialize with Briar and Meena as she chose. Lord knew the increased activity would be a good thing. Muscles she wasn’t even aware she owned still ached from her recent tumbles with the strong inventor.

  Meena stepped aside. “Now you try it.”

  Briar cupped Ada’s shoulders, moving her into position, with her back to the room. “Let’s begin with the parasol.” She pressed Meena’s weapon into her hand. “Imagine you’re trying to decide whether to pop into a hat shop to try on that little pink bonnet in the window. And remember, quick, decisive action.”

  Ada gripped the curved handle of the substantial parasol. “But I don’t want to hurt you. What if I—?”

  “Don’t worry,” Meena waved away her concern. “Briar’s too skilled to let you hurt her.”

  Ada turned back to face the wall and tried to pretend she was engrossed in the offerings of an imaginary shop.

  “All right,” Briar warned, “here I come.”

  Even though she knew it was Briar’s arm snaking over her shoulder, Ada gasped. Instead of ducking toward her assailant and slipping out from under her as Meena had, she pulled away, in the opposite direction.

  Briar followed her movements, leaning into her as she moved, pushing her further off-balance.

  Before Ada toppled into the credenza, Briar pulled her back. “Well done!”

  When Ada turned around, the girl was grinning. “That is precisely how one would normally react.” She smoothed the wrinkles bunched up over Ada’s shoulders. “That’s just what a criminal counts on. Instinct drives you to pull away, allowing him to push you down. Then he can grab whatever he wishes while you struggle to regain your footing. The thief would be off with your handbag and jewelry before you’d found the breath to yell.”

  “But I knew you were coming.” Ada shook her head. “I knew you were coming and still I reacted badly. I can’t imagine what I’d do in a real scenario.”

  “Exactly!” Briar seemed to applaud her lack of skill. “That’s why we spend hours in the studio. With enough practice, your responses become automatic.” She turned Ada back toward the wall and handed her back the umbrella. “Again.”

  * * *

  Wanting to simulate real life as much as practicable in her friends’ hallway, Ada squared her shoulders and tried to clear her mind. She imagined she was ogling a display of Venetian glass beakers at Gorton’s Chemical Supply.

  She shifted from foot to foot, passing the handle of the parasol from hand to hand. It was no use. The back of her neck prickled with tension, and her ears strained for the slightest rustle of fabric that would signal Briar was about to pounce.

  But the girl moved so quickly, there was no time between the swish of her skirts and the attack. Ada barely had time to tense before a black-clad arm looped over her shoulder. After an initial jerk away, Ada forced herself to lean into Briar’s embrace then slip down beneath her arm. Chin tucked into her chest as she’d seen Meena do, she pushed into Briar’s body, then ducked out underneath her grasp.

  But she’d forgotten about the parasol.

  Instead of tucking it in against her body and bringing it along, Ada allowed it to dangle out away from her. She managed to squirm out from under Briar’s hold, but before she had a chance to straighten, Briar jerked the weapon from her grasp.

  “Better.” Briar handed her back the umbrella.

  Ada shrugged modestly. “But I forgot about the brolly.”

  “Not to worry,” Meena said. “Practice enough and you’ll be amazed how quickly you begin to react on instinct.”

  The casement clock in the study broke through their conversation, signaling the hour with slow, solemn tones. Despite the exciting diversion, the reminder rekindled Ada’s worry. Short of the Waterloo bridge tumbling into the Thames, Henry and Edison should have returned.

  Spencer and Nelly appeared from the kitchen, bringing with them the savory aromas of beef stew and yeasty bread. Spencer was drying his hands on a worn square of sack cloth. Although he presented an air of casual indifference, Ada caught the worried glance he sent his wife.

  “Nothing?” he asked Meena softly.

  She shook her head.

  Briar was staring out the window now, arms hugging her waist. “I wonder if we should go after them.”

  “We’ve still got Edison’s borrowed hansom,” Nelly pointed out.

  Spencer tossed the cloth over his shoulder and pulled his wife into a gentle hug.

  The way he cradled her against him—the tenderness in his look—squeezed Ada’s heart. How magnificent to share that kind of love.

  Meena leaned into her husband’s embrace. “It has been some time since we’ve had an adventure of any magnitude. I suppose we should—”

  Before she could finish, the door at the back of the house flew open.

  “Here they are!” Nelly rushed off to greet them.

  As quickly as the girl ran off, she returned, her expression grim. “The daft cabbages.” She shook her head slowly, looking more like a wise old woman than a girl barely in her majority. “This isn’t gonna go well.”

  Behind her, Henry trudged into the room, face pale, eyes huge in the dimming light.

  A portly figure in a white uniform followed.

  Ada gasped. The admiral himself.

  The man did not look pleased. Holy hell, what had Edison done?

  “We’re in for it now,” Spencer muttered.

  “Who the blazes are you people?” the admiral commanded.

  Even as he emoted, he squinted at the four of them, blinking as he recognized Ada. “Mrs. Templeton? Are you all right? What have these lunatics done to you? Tell me they haven’t hurt you, or I’ll have them strung up so fast—”

  “I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” Ada rushed forward to grasp the old man’s hands. She smiled up at him, hoping to reassure him. “These are my friends. They saved me from…”

  A sharp stone bloomed in her throat, catching her unawares. She swallowed hard, blinking away a spring of tears that came with it. “Mr. Sweet and his family saved me from a most disagreeable fate.”

  She locked gazes with Edison as she spoke. The smile he sent her held far too much wicked promise for the middle of the day, especially surrounded by his family and an irate naval officer.

  Cheeks flaming, Ada looked away. Just a glance, and he had her ready to slip into his bed. Not just ready, but eager. Would her reaction to him ever dim?

  “Of a
ll the damned things.” Still ramrod straight, the Admiral puffed up his considerable chest and eyed each member of the group as if they were a sorry band of new recruits.

  “I did try to tell you, sir,” Edison said.

  The admiral harrumphed.

  Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose as if suddenly struck by a terrible headache.

  Meena eyed her cousin as if he’d gone completely batty.

  “Bloody hell, Edison, you were supposed to talk to the man, not kidnap him.” Briar berated her brother. “We’re terribly sorry, sir. We don’t do this often as a general rule.”

  “I had to improvise.” Edison raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Things at Whitehall didn’t go exactly to plan.”

  “There’s a shock,” Meena muttered. She crossed to the window next to the front door and peered out at the street beyond. “We’d best design some sort of plan before the rest of the Royal Navy gets here.”

  Chapter 19

  Admiral Helmsley tugged on his uniform tunic so hard the medals on his chest jingled. “Wish you could have explained all this at my offices, boy.”

  Lucifer’s trousers, the man was a stubborn old goat. Edison ran a hand through his hair. Better that than give the old codger a good pop on the nose.

  The old sailor hadn’t believed a word of Edison’s story, though if he were being fair-minded, it was a fantastical tale. Still, dragging the man out of his offices at gunpoint might have been a miscalculation.

  At least they hadn’t been followed.

  Young Henry showed admirable skills piloting the ungainly growler through afternoon traffic. Not having to drive gave Edison leave to make certain there was no one on their tail.

  “Did you have to bring him to the house?” Spencer asked, irritation clear in his clipped tone. “No offense meant, sir.”

  “None taken.” The older man rocked back on his heels and wrapped his arms across his round chest. “Well Sweet? You got me here. Let’s get down to business. The wife’s angling to attend some God-awful soiree this evening. My salty arse won’t be worth a ha’penny if she misses it on my account.”

  Before Edison could point out that they never would have left the comfort of his well-appointed offices had he chosen to take Edison at his word, Meena stepped between them.

  “Let’s sit a moment, shall we?” She took the admiral’s arm and led him toward the dining room. “Are you hungry? We have stew.”

  “I am rather peckish, now you mention it. Any ale by chance? I’ve never been kidnapped. A pint wouldn’t go amiss.”

  Meena jerked her head at Briar. “I believe Mr. H just purchased a jug of Flannery’s finest. Should be in the pantry.”

  Once their odd crew was seated around the table, bowls of stew and ale in front of them, Edison took a long swallow of beer. Ada sat at the Admiral’s right. He tried to catch her eye, but she seemed intent on her conversation with the old seaman.

  Though she was again dressed in one of her practical working dresses, she fit there next to the old officer. Every time the man laughed, his chest full of medals winked in the light from the chandelier above the table, reminding Edison that he himself had no such accomplishments to show.

  Ada did. Ada had created a power source that was going to change the world.

  He fashioned crude devices that didn’t work—at least not the way he intended. When he wasn’t doing that, he was skulking about the city’s nasty underbelly, chasing criminals.

  It wasn’t a world she knew.

  It wasn’t a world where she belonged.

  Though the stew was hearty, with just the right touch of spice, he pushed his bowl away half-eaten. She belonged in accomplished, learned circles, teaching men like Spottswood that women were going to think rings around them, whether they cared to admit it or not.

  The last place a woman like Ada Templeton belonged was in his bed.

  There it was. The bare truth of it. If he was any kind of gentleman, he wouldn’t tempt her again.

  “Why did you bring Admiral Helmsley here?” Meena asked him.

  Edison glared at the old man. “He wasn’t interested in the device.”

  “Not true,” the admiral cut in. “Wouldn’t be any good without Mrs. Templeton is all.”

  Spencer paused in the middle of buttering a roll. “Why not?”

  “Gadget’s useless without the person who can make it work.” He pointed his butter knife at Spencer. “There’ll be things to change, bits needing adjusting and such. No one but the creator’d be able to do that.”

  He reached for Ada’s hand. “And might I add, I’m thrilled to the teeth you’re unharmed, my dear.”

  Ada smiled at him fondly.

  Edison set his spoon down. A dreadful thought took hold. “Are you saying no one’ll buy the battery from an intermediary?”

  Silence fell as everyone but the old officer contemplated that thought.

  He patted his substantial belly and sat back in his seat with a great sigh of satisfaction. “No one with any brains in their heads.” He wiped his lips with his serviette. “With a device as complicated as Mrs. Templeton’s dry cell battery, it’s the designer you want. She’s the golden goose. Without her knowledge, the thing’s just a damned expensive paperweight.”

  Ada’s eyes widened. She caught Edison’s gaze. “So it’s only of use to someone who can pretend they developed it.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “That eliminates you,” Spencer said to Edison.

  Edison forced himself not to slam his fists down on the table. It did at that.

  Meena pushed aside her bowl. “We need a new plan of attack.”

  The admiral patted Ada’s hand. “Hate to say it, my dear, but if it were me, I’d dangle you in front of this villain.”

  Edison could feel his family struggling to maintain an outward expression of calm. He was doing the same.

  The longer he’d spent in Helmsley’s company, the less he believed the older man had anything to do with the attack.

  But there was his staff. And Ada’s friend, the owner of the chemical company. Possibly that insufferable gent they’d stumbled across outside the Admiralty. Lord knew her stepbrother wanted to get his hands on her work. Every one of them had staff and servants to account for as well. Staff and servants who could be bought.

  Too many possibilities to track.

  The Admiral was right. They’d have to use Ada as bait.

  Edison pressed his palms to his tired eyes. They’d accomplished part of their goal. The admiral knew Ada was alive and her battery was still available. He could only hope the older man would spread the news wide and far. Whoever wanted the device should know about it by morning if they didn’t already.

  In the meantime, they did indeed need a new plan.

  A plan even a highly decorated admiral had no need to hear.

  Edison pushed back his chair. “We’ve presumed on your time long enough, sir. Should be getting you back to your house.”

  A sharp wrap on the front door interrupted any response.

  Edison exchanged a look with his cousin-in-law. As if of one mind, they both rose from the table. Being closer to the entryway, Spencer took point. He reached for the door while Edison waited behind it, a stout umbrella in his grasp.

  As soon as he heard the familiar voice, Edison lowered his weapon. “Burke.”

  The tall detective strode into the house, his gaze pointed and assessing. “If I were a betting man, I’d put down twenty quid there’s an admiral lurking about the premises. One seems to’ve gone missing.”

  “In the dining room.” Spencer pointed the way.

  Burke sighed and headed in to the room. “Of course he is.”

  “Admiral Helmsley, sir.” Burke sketched the man a short bow.

  “And you are?”

  “Detective Inspector Caleb Burke, sir. From the Yard. It seems you’ve been… misplaced.”

  “Misplaced nothing.” The glass of ale in the man’s hand sloshed p
recariously as he waved it about. “This lot kidnapped me, is what happened. Not that I plan to press charges.” He smiled at Ada like a doting grandfather. “I’ve been worried about Mrs. Templeton. Good to have my mind at ease over that business.”

  Burke shot Edison a sharp look before addressing the admiral. “May I escort you home? Your wife will be worried.”

  The older man rose slowly, as if his joints might not move as easily as they once did. “Splendid. Need to prepare for a bore of an engagement.” He sighed. “The wife’s idea.”

  He made his way around the table, but stopped just inside the doorway to look back at Ada. “That battery of yours is a splendid device. Splendid. Get this business done up and Her Majesty’s Navy still wants it.”

  He looks at the men. “You keep her safe, or I’ll have my best officers after you lot.”

  Edison met his gaze. “You have our word.” As long as he breathed, nothing would harm her.

  Admiral Helmsley stared back, as if taking his measure, then nodded. “See to it.”

  Before following his charge, Burke leveled them with a measured look. “I’d like to head home and take my boots off. Could you leave off the kidnapping for the rest of the night?”

  Meena grinned at him. “Cross our hearts.”

  Burke snorted. “Wish I could say that was reassuring.”

  Meena and Briar chuckled and shared a look, before Briar waggled her fingers at him. “Enjoy your evening, Detective.”

  Edison followed the men to the door and locked it behind them.

  He returned to the dining room, but remained in the doorway, taking in the conversation. He wanted to think he was concentrating on creating a new plan, but the truth was he couldn’t take his gaze of off Ada.

  How had he ever thought her too reserved? Too aloof? Too rigid to warm a man’s bed?

  Perhaps—as Briar and Meena continued to remind him—he was a jelly-brained idiot, too intent on his own pleasure to think beyond the next conquest.

  “We’ll need a reason for you to be in a public place at a pre-arranged time,” Meena was explaining. “A place that’ll tempt our man to make a move.”

  Ada shuddered. It was a tiny movement. He wouldn’t have caught it a week ago, before he knew her so intimately.