Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(73)

The way his eyes rolled behind the clear lenses of his spectacles suggested Edison wasn’t convinced. But then it was his job to be skeptical.

Briar slid between the professor and Price to clear away their plates.

Kildare glanced up at her. “A beauty like you wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty brain of yours with dry, dusty facts, would you?” A meaty hand disappeared behind Briar’s back.

Quick as a wink, she tilted his plate, sending a half-eaten shrimp tumbling down the front of his white shirt.

“Blasted girl!” The man shoved his chair back, hands brushing bits of shrimp and butter further into the fabric. “I’ll have you sacked.”

“Oh dear!” Briar said in an empty-headed tone. “I’m ever so sorry! I’ll get a cloth.” She rushed off.

“Idiot.” The professor jumped to his feet. “Excuse me.” He rushed out of the room, his face a most unusual shade of red.

Price shook his head. “Man invited himself when I bragged about how I was having you to lunch. I should have declined. Such a boor. I apologize.”

“Not at all,” Ada said. “His attitude seems to be the prevailing one.”

And it made her wonder. Would the thought of a female scientist claiming a significant discovery drive a man like that to violence?

The depressing thought seemed to weigh her down, adding to her fears, to her sense of defeat. All this deception was beginning to wear. The only thing that had become clear in the past few days was that no one was quite what they seemed.

Such a sad conclusion.

“Ada? My dear, is it really you?” Stanton Grenville strode up to the table and held his hands out to her, his open features distorted by a mixture of relief and concern.

“Stanton!” She put her hands in his, only to notice his fingers trembled troublingly.

Legs obviously weak as well, he sank down in the professor’s vacant chair. Though he tried to grin, the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Shame washed over her, making her face bloom with heat. The man thought she’d died in that explosion. What kind of friend was she to let him suffer?

Hands still in his grasp, she stared at Edison, willing him to help.

But instead of offering a witty explanation, he reached for his water glass, studying Stanton over the cut glass rim.

“My dear, I thought you were—” Stanton pulled his hands away and reached for his handkerchief, blotting beads of sweat from his wide brow. “The Admiral told me…” He swallowed. “Theodora and I were so distraught.”

“I apologize. I am so terribly sorry.” Ada couldn’t meet his eyes. “I…” She had nothing, no convenient lie.

“National security,” Edison interjected, finally. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Stanton muttered. A great sigh lifted his rounded shoulders. “Must be why that dreadful man from naval intelligence insisted on seeing me.”

Ada and Edison share a look of concern.

“Naval intelligence?” she repeated. “Why?”

“Exactly what I wondered.” Stanton plucked up her serviette and blotted his brow. “Asked all sorts of odd questions about you,” he confided, his voice low. “What had you invented? Who did you associate with? Wanted to know if you’d come into money recently. All rather insulting. Told him where to stuff it.”

“I see.” Ada stared down at her hands, hoping to hide her confusion.

She stole a glance at Edison. His eyes glittered with interest. Was it her pursuer trying to locate her? Anyone who knew her would guess she’d contact Stanton.

She opened her mouth to question her friend further, but a short, sharp shake of the head from Edison stopped her.

Damned if she wasn’t a terrible spy. Anyone in the area—including her host, or the busboy at the next table—could be listening.

Stanton struggled to his feet, as if the shock had knocked the wind out of him. “Must tell Theodora the wonderful news.” He smiled, but it held little warmth.

Ada pressed a hand to his arm. “I am truly sorry to have upset you.”

Though he waved away her apology, Ada sensed he was reeling.

Once he had time to digest the news, abhorrence would replace shock.

To leave him worrying like that. What kind of woman had she become?

She watched him shuffle out of the room, looking as if he’d aged ten years. When had she become so preoccupied with her own life that she’d turned to torturing the very people who cared about her?

If nothing else, her inexcusable behavior presented the best argument yet that she was in no way cut out for Edison’s unconventional lifestyle.



*

Without another look, her old friend disappeared out the wide doorway of the dining room, taking a piece of Ada’s self-respect with him. Her ears burned with embarrassment.

Shame pressed her down in her seat, shrinking her until she felt as if she were nothing but a small girl masquerading as an adult. Edison and his lot toyed with people’s perceptions, but they did it for the greater good. Having done it herself now, she didn’t think she had it in her to ignore the unintended consequences.

A cloud of cigar smoke swelled throughout the dining room as members finished their meals and moved on to port and cigars. The murmur of male voices rose and fell around her, punctuated by the clink of silver against china—and the occasional strident curse. Scientific debate, in Ada’s experience, was rarely calm or reasoned.