Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(89)

Anger and disgust and hatred collided, distorting her old friend’s face until he was all but unrecognizable. He glared at her, his eyes small and glittering. “You don’t deserve that device. Mine’ll be completed by Christmastide. You only beat me by weeks. Just a few damned weeks.” His voice rose as he spat out the words until the last few were hard to make out.

Ada staggered back, stunned. He was Stanton, yet not. She’d never seen that anger, that ugly twist to his mouth, the red flush of rage that mottled his face.

“You and Harrison were friends,” she said, her voice thinned by shock. “We were friends.”

Stanton reared back as if she stank. “You’re an abomination.” Spittle flew from his thick lips. “An abomination. You have no business claiming the mantle of womanhood.”

The venom in his tone bit into her. Who was this man? What had happened to the kind, gentle friend who shared so many of her dreams, so many spirited scientific discussions?

A low roar rumbled up from deep in Edison’s chest. Makeshift rope taut, he lunged at the portly man.

Stanton scrambled backwards, hampered by age and thick, fat legs. Just as Edison wrapped the cloth around his neck and began to twist, something cold and hard pressed into the side of Ada’s temple.

She gasped, but forced herself to remain still.

“Stop!” Stanton’s voice gurgling from his throat as Edison tightened the rope. “Let go or she dies.”

Hands still around the cloth, Edison looked back over his shoulder and quickly released his prey. As he did, the guard took the gun away from Ada’s head.

Stanton yanked the twisted shirt from Edison’s grasp. Fury—and loss of air—turned his face a shade closer to purple than red.

Ada sensed he was teetering on the edge of sanity. She wondered why he didn’t order them shot on the spot.

Edison moved back to her, closing in until they were shoulder to should, hip to hip. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. Ada felt his strength, his anger and confidence flow through her. Like Caldwell Nance’s magnificent hero, Edison would retreat and wait for a better time.

Small eyes blazing with hatred, Stanton snapped his fingers. “Toss them the clothes,” he ordered the guard closest to him.

The man grabbed a bundle of what looked like unwashed laundry. He threw the wrinkled wad straight at Edison.

“Your evening attire.” Stanton snickered. “Put them on. All of them. And then we’ll have your things.” Braver now that he had three men holding guns on Edison, he stepped closer. “Straight down to the unmentionables.”

He snapped his fingers again, and the guards closed in, forcing them backwards into the closet.

“As I’m a gentleman, I’ll allow you some privacy.” He nodded at the closest guard, who slammed the door shut.

The bundle reeked. It reeked of old sweat and coal smoke and any number of other human scents Ada had no wish to consider.

Edison dropped the bundle and set about untying the knot that held it together. “Might be something useful in here.” He pawed through the pile.

“What does he mean, ‘all of it?’” Ada asked.

Edison held up a wrinkled pair of ladies' drawers. They were plain and dingy from years of use, the fabric worn almost through at the knees.

The sort of garment only the poorest would own.

Ada grabbed the unmentionables from Edison’s hand. Still reeling from Stanton’s betrayal, she couldn’t think. “What’s he about?”

Edison looked up at her. The kindness—the regret—in his expression stopped her breath.

He rose to his feet, studying her the entire time, as if thinking through a great decision. Then he gathered her in his arms. After a moment’s hesitation, she laid her cheek against his chest, allowing herself to savor the intimacy.

He held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. It was a long moment before he spoke. “You know he wants you dead.”

Ada could only nod. If this was to be the end, she wanted to spend it touching him and breathing in his clean, spicy scent. She wanted to revel in the feel of his bare skin beneath her palms as she pressed them against his chest.

“My guess is he’s going to leave us here, dressed in these rags,” Edison said. “Make it appear a couple vagrants snuck in to keep warm.”

“But then he’ll have to destroy the…” Her voice trailed off as the implications hit her, making her head spin.

“Exactly.” Edison set her aside and began pulling clothing out of the bundle. “He’ll use the chloroform again.”

“How can you—?”

“He hasn’t tied us up.” Edison frowned at a soiled pair of trousers, and stepped into them, lip curled in disgust. “He wants it to look like an accident. Like we broke in to find shelter and set something on fire.”

“The battery.”

Edison threw her a confused look. “It’s in the safe. At the league.”

She shook her head. “Stanton was to be the manufacturer. He’s got early prototypes and containers from my latest design.”

Edison clenched his jaw. “That is damned clever.”

He kicked at the dwindling bundle. “He’ll set up one of your devices to create the fire. If I were him, I’d explode it.”