Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(29)

“Who am I to be?” she whispered.

Edison shrugged as if the possibilities outweighed the losses. “Seems to me you can be anyone you like.”

Ada flopped back against the cushions and screwed her eyes shut.

That was precisely the problem.

The woman she wished to be was a woman she didn’t dare become.





Chapter 9





He needed to move.

Edison’s back was stiff from disuse. The muscles in his shoulders were knotting up, and his right hip was cramping. He needed to wiggle about and stomp his feet.

But he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Ada. She was nestled into his side, her head on his shoulder, fast asleep.

After what she’d endured, she needed rest.

And he had no problem admitting he was enjoying the feel of her against him. He liked knowing she felt safe enough to let down her guard with him.

Still, the lack of concealment grated on him. The lane was flanked by nothing but open fields dotted with shaggy sheep. Their carriage would be visible for miles around.

He ached to urge the horse on faster.

He wanted off the road, but not at the price of attracting further attention. With a house in flames not two leagues behind them, attention would not benefit them.

The reins lay slack in his hands as the well-trained nag shuffled at a studied pace back toward the city. Edison let his mind wander. He sifted through the series of events, hoping some detail—insignificant at the time—would point him in the right direction.

Ada stirred, shifting about in her sleep. Her hand fell into his lap. Edison gritted his teeth and snapped the reins, urging the horse into a smart trot.

Lucifer’s teeth. Was it the devil himself taunting him?

He stared hard at the road ahead, desperate to focus on anything but the white hand laying snuggly against his tackle.

She fancied him. The signs were clear.

The little glances, the catch of her breath when he caught her eye, the breathy little sighs she didn’t even notice were like signs on a roadmap. Easy to read but not leading in the direction he wished to travel.

Indeed, Mrs. Ada Templeton was a destination he had no business exploring.

Ada was sheltered and remarkably innocent for a widow. Decidedly not his sort. He kept his sights on worldly women, women who gave as good as they got. Women whose affections he couldn’t gain, couldn’t shatter.

Women of great passion but little heart.

So he’d keep his distance.

And he’d make quick work of the madman after her device, before Ada made quick work of his well-guarded independence.

It always surprised him, how abruptly country lanes gave way to congested, cobbled streets. The city acknowledged their arrival with a jolt as the wheels moved from soft dirt to hard uneven stone.

He’d lived in London the whole of his life, and still, the wall of noise produced by the sheer number of human beings stuffed into narrow streets made him wince.

Driving now required far more attention, and a good bit of skill.

Ada rocked gently against him as the hansom sped over the uneven road, then she lifted her head and blinked sleepily. Her muscles rippled against him as she stretched with the languid ease of a house cat.

“We need shelter for the night.” He eyed the road ahead, calculating a way through the shifting traffic. “I’ve got an idea.”

She yawned. “Our guest room is still—” She stopped. “This isn’t going to be simple, is it?”

“No.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “But it will be quick. There can’t be many who know about your device and have the means to take it.”

She bolted upright. “We need to contact my family. Before they read the news. We need to tell them we’re—”

“We will.” Edison slowed the horse, allowing a scrubby boy to push a pie cart across the street. “First, we need to get off the streets. If we happen on anyone who knows you, our plan fails before we start. I’ll find us a place for the night, then I’ll get off a telegram to the house.”

Ada slumped back against the seat.

Edison flicked her a look. She was holding up well. Better than well. He doubted even Meena or his sister could have handled that attack any better.

Her resilience pleased him. They weren’t out of this yet. Not by a long way. “I’m going to send them all to Brighton,” he announced.

“Brighton? Why?”

“Spencer has a home there. It’ll be easier to keep them safe out of London.”

Despite the worry on her face, she smiled. “Grandmama loves the seaside.” Her face grows serious again. “Then what? How do we start?”

“We find out who rented that cottage.”

The number of carriages and conveniences they encountered began to increase exponentially the closer they came to the center of the city. Overloaded delivery wagons competed with hansoms, great four and six-seater clarences, and the occasional omnibus for increasingly narrow strips of road.

To say nothing of the foolhardy pedestrians scurrying about at will in every which direction.

“We should start with Spottswood,” Ada announced out of nowhere. “How did he happen to be strolling by just as we left the Admiral’s office? Entirely too suspicious. And, the man is a pig.”

“We should start with your manufacturer.” Surely she would see the wisdom of his approach. “I’ll bet someone at your friend’s chemical company has been selling secrets.”