Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(72)

Sharing a table with a man who might well have ordered her death had rather killed her appetite. She forced herself to swallow even though her stomach was a knotted mess.

Her host, Sir Beauford Price, didn’t seem like a ruthless killer. Far from it. The man was portly, with round, pink cheeks and downy white mutton chops. More like a prosperous Father Christmas than a criminal mastermind.

Not that she had the least idea how a killer should look.

Edison seemed equally disinterested in his own lunch. Now that she knew him, she could see beyond the owl-eyed facade he presented. Oh, he played the part to perfection—the effete, scientifically minded dilettante eager to converse with other self-important amateur scientists.

But she could see the wolf behind his fake spectacles.

His acting skills were superb. It wasn’t that. In his fashionable jacket and waistcoat with his unruly hair pomaded to within an inch of its life, he could have been any young buck wealthy enough to dabble in the scientific arts.

It was his essence. That confident, protective, soldier’s essence he couldn’t hide.

Neither the wire spectacles nor the meek, diffident expression on his face as he pretended to consider Sir Beauford’s ramblings on magnetism could cloak the instincts of a protector.

Ada supposed the others at the table might not sense the danger at their elbows. To her, it was like sitting across from a wolf in man’s clothing. He was faster and stronger and sharper than anyone else in the room.

And she wanted to toss her tea in his face.

How could he sit there, straight across from her, smiling politely as if they’d never shared anything more than a spirited conversation?

Ada squirmed as the hat pins securing the sweet little chapeau Briar had lent her dug into her scalp. She tugged at the black felt brim, inching it back and forth as discreetly as possible until the itching stopped.

Briar and Meena had done her up to the nines. They both agreed the nicer of her day dresses would suit admirably, but insisted she required, “tarting up.” The merest touch of lip rouge, eye-catching jet earrings that caressed the sides of her neck, and Briar’s playful black hat, decorated with glossy glass cherries and just the smallest touch of lace, had done wonders for her image.

And her self-esteem.

She’d never realized how such small touches could change the way she felt about herself. Perhaps she could be serious and—if not exactly beautiful—at least pretty.

“This battery device, it’s a dry cell?” Price asked.

Ada met his gaze, trying to look past the watery gray eyes and the polite smile. Did he have it in him to order her demise? To steal her device and pass it off as his own invention?

How much did fame matter to any given man?

“How extraordinary,” Price’s companion, Professor Kildare commented. “And it’s fully functional?”

Ada didn’t care for the heavy layer of skepticism in his tone. Had the man noticed the way Edison’s fingers tightened around his fork, he might have modified his tone.

“It is,” she said.

The professor leaned over his plate of buttered sole. “How’ve you managed to keep the power flow stable? No one’s been able to manage the current. It’s a devil of a problem.”

“That was the most difficult issue, to be sure.”

“One my cousin would be happy to discuss in greater detail after her presentation.” Edison cut in. “We do need to leave something for your lecture,” he chided her.

The other men chuckled.

“If you don’t mind my saying, where did you develop such an interest in chemical engineering?” Price asked. “It’s rather extraordinary for a woman.” Though he didn’t exude the same dismissive energy as his colleague, Price’s interest seemed gleeful, as if Ada were an exotic curiosity he had the great fortune to examine.

She clenched her teeth, willing herself to ignore his patronizing tone. “Only because we’ve not been given the same access to learning.”

Something brushed against her elbow, and she looked up to see Briar, outfitted in a serving girl’s costume, a water pitcher in hand. Ada might have imagined it, but she would have sworn Briar gave her a firm nod of encouragement.

As Briar glided around the table, refilling water goblets, Ada couldn’t help but notice Professor Kildare’s lascivious interest. She shuddered. Had Briar indeed been a maid, she’d have to take care around men like Kildare.

Men who felt the world was theirs for the taking.

The devilish gleam in Edison’s eye suggested he was looking forward to whatever retribution Briar would mete out before the meal concluded.

“Most women don’t have your peculiar… bent.” The professor shook his head. “What would your average female need with advanced sciences? Any sciences, for that matter?” He pushed aside his plate. “Great waste, if you ask me, taking up a desk a man could occupy.”

Price set his wine glass down with a distinct snap. “A good thing no one requested your opinion, then Kildare.” He patted Ada’s hand. “We’re not all so narrow-minded, I assure you.”

Ada smiled at him. “I assumed as much from your generous invitation.”

“Purely selfish motives.” His eyes twinkled as he grinned. “Just wanted you to myself before the hordes descend tomorrow.”