Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(49)

He needed a diversion. He opened his mouth, hoping some plan would come to him as he spoke, but he was too late. Crane had sensed his agitation. Following Edison’s gaze, he glanced down at his feet.

He swallowed hard, waiting for Crane to make his move.

Meanwhile, his sister was frowning at his half-dressed state. “You’re all inside out.”

He was. No wonder his collar was stuffed inside the neck of his shirt. He tried to shrug off the error. “Still muzzy. Tossed and turned most of the night. There are rats. Huge rats, scurrying about.”

Briar smoothed down his hair with a short, quick gesture. “Looks like you slept in a dust bin. Don’t they have any furniture up there?”

He ducked away from her fussing hands. “Just anxious to trap this bugger.”

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He was never anxious. The more dangerous the situation, the calmer he felt.

It was one of his strengths.

Damned if he wasn’t making a hash of this.

Across from him, Crane smiled. Edison didn’t like the looks of it one bit. Crane had him by the short pants. And the man evil sense of humor.

But he was above all, a gentleman. Crane sent him a glance promising to collect payment at a later date and swept the gown back out of sight with the toe of his boot.

Edison offered the slightest of nods.

Price accepted.



*

Relief registered in the way his knees wobbled.

But he’d forgotten about the kitchen. Edison shouldered past the women as they started to make their way toward the back of the house. “You brought food? I could eat a bear.”

If he could make it there a step or two ahead of them, he might have time to toss her things into a corner, make them seem like a pile of rags.

Her bustle and petticoats sprawled between the stove and the sink, far enough back from the doorway that they might not have seen them on their way through.

Edison kicked at the pile of underthings, sending them skidding up against the cabinets beneath the sink. As Briar and then Meena filled into the room, he backed up, scuffing his heels along the flagstones, crumpling Ada’s unmentionables into a smaller pile behind his legs.

It would have to do.

Meena set a basket on the table and pulled back the dishcloths covering the contents.

The smell of warm brambleberry scones filled the cold room. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his mouth watered. It took all his control not to plunge in with both hands.

“It’s freezing in here.” Briar chafed her hands up and down her arms. “I’ll heat the water.”

She crossed in front of him with the kettle, nearly treading on his bare toes as she tried to pass between the stove and the sink. She scoots in next to Edison, giving him an odd look.

He should by all rights move over, but he wasn’t keen on leaving Ada’s underthings in plain sight.

Meena was concentrating on the table, setting out the plate of scones and a crock of butter, but Crane had hung back in the doorway, his gaze flitting between the pile of white cloth and Edison’s face.

Another evil grin.

Edison’s shoulders sagged. Another payment due.

A look of understanding passed between them, and Crane did pushed off from the wall. “We men can tidy up,” he said.

He strode to the corner, brushing Edison to the side, and scooped up the frothy pile of skirts. In a trice, he had the fabric balled into a surprisingly small bundle, which he hauled off toward the butler’s pantry.

Thank Zeus. Edison pulled out a chair.

“Good morning,” Ada called out.

It might have been his imagination, but he thought her tone was deeper, huskier, more sensual, than just yesterday.

Meena turned toward the doorway. Ada waited just outside the kitchen as if hesitant to enter.

That was when he realized his attempts to cover up their activities had been for naught.

Her hair was pulled back in the simplest of buns at the base of her neck. And she’d donned her all-purpose gray walking dress. Somewhere, she’d even conjured up a spare bustle.

She looked tidy as one could expect.

Tidy and thoroughly bedded.

She radiated beauty. Her lips were still full from their kisses, her cheeks sweetly flushed, but it was the sparkle in her eye that gave it away.

Edison grabbed a scone and eyed his family, relieved that Ada’s transformation seemed not to have registered. Yet.

“Good morning,” Meena greeted her and slid the plate of scones in Ada’s direction. “You look well.”

Edison didn’t like the speculative gleam in his cousin’s eye. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Fogle is well I assume?” he asked about Ada’s grandmother.

“She’s delightful.” Meena smiled at Ada. “She’s taken quite a shine to our Mr. Hapgood.”

Ada grinned. “I’d advise him to be on his guard. Grandmama has a certain…preoccupation with handsome fellows.”

Meena looked between them. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Edison stared down at his plate. He recognized that look. Meena was on the scent. He cleared his throat. “The advert specified two to three pm,” he reminded them before taking a bite of scone. “That gives us plenty of time to scout the area.”

“Barton’s Theater, you said?” Meena’s brow furrowed. She propped an elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “Place’ll be empty that time of day.”