Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(95)

Briar tumbled through the door, her lantern swinging crazily. Behind her, Nelly and Henry and Detective Burke rushed in.

Meena held her light high, examining Ada from head to toe. “Looks like you’ll do. I must say that’s not your most flattering gown.”

Ada laughed, the tension adding extra heft to her amusement. “Nor my best-smelling.”

Spencer wrinkled his nose. “I’ll say not.”

Detective Burke pulled up short when he saw Spencer, thickly covered in white powder. “What happened to you?”

“Alum, apparently.” Spencer wiped the white grime out of his eyes and grinned at her again. “Our scientist has a right aim.”

Our scientist. His words warmed her, even as she knew they weren’t true.

She wasn’t part of them. Never would be.

Burke sized her up with an expert glance. “Where’s Sweet?”

Ada jutted her chin toward the faint light at the far end of the building. “Guarding Stanton.”

Stanton. Harrison’s lifelong friend. Her friend. Her colleague. Or rather the man who had never been any of those things.

Ada’s knees wobbled as the shock she’d been anticipating hit with full force.

“Whoa there.” Spencer caught her just as her legs gave out. “You’ve had quite a night. Nelly. Henry. See Mrs. Templeton to the lobby.” He turned his head aside to cough. “She could use some water, I’m sure.”

“‘Ere now. Lean on us for a tick.” Nelly scooped a hand under Ada’s elbow. “Careful now,” she admonished Henry, who’d taken her other arm. “Mrs. T’s had a bugger of a day.”

Ada shuffled between them into the lobby, her legs weak and trembling as if she were an old woman.

Which, in a way she was. Her soul felt as if it had aged a million years in the past hour.

Between them, Nelly and Henry walked her over to the elegant horsehair sofa that filled one corner of the reception area.

“I told ‘em you’d be fine,” Nelly said. “Got a strong heart. Knew it the minute I saw you. Any woman as can out think all those men with their fancy schooling’s gotta have a strong heart.”

“You’re very sweet.” Ada stared hard at the indifferent watercolor on the far wall, willing away the tears the girl’s praise had drawn.

Nelly rolled her eyes. “I’m not either.”

“She’s really not,” Henry chimed in. “Got a bite to her. More vinegar than sugar, I’d say.”

Ada covered her mouth with her hand to hide the smile she couldn’t stop. If she had the right of it, young Henry seemed to have a predilection for acids.

“Vinegar’s strong.” Nelly sniffed. “Enough foolishness,” she waved the subject off. “I’ll see if I can find a pitcher of water.”

“No need.” Ada waved off the offer. “I’m perfectly fine.” Then she plucked at her filthy gown. “My clothes.” She caught Nelly’s eye. “They should be upstairs. There’s a storage closet…”

“Right enough.” Henry jumped at the chance to join in on the excitement. “I’ll find them first thing.” To his credit, he did pause long enough to send Nelly a questioning glance.

The girl gave Ada a long look before handing over her lantern and following after Henry. “Give a yell if you need anything,” she instructed and pushed the doors wide until they latched/stayed open.

Their footsteps echoed back into the reception area for a long while.

Ada sank back against the sofa. All that fear-generated energy seemed to drain completely out of her, leaving her as limp as an old stalk of celery.

She didn’t think she even had the energy to change out of her filthy rags.

She certainly didn’t have enough reserves to face Edison.

She just couldn’t. Couldn’t face the impersonal sympathy in his gaze. Couldn’t face staring into his expressive eyes, knowing they’d never again glitter with passion.

Not for her.

Her supply of resilience had been depleted. She simply couldn’t do it.

Voices, and the grinding chirp of metal wheels on concrete, rose from the back of the factory. Ada jerked up, spine straight. They must have Stanton ready to transport.

A surge of panic rekindled her energy. She jumped up from the settee.

She had to leave. Now.

The rag of a dress swirled around her calves, reminding her that she must look like the poorest of the poor.

Too poor to hail a hansom. Too poor to risk walking alone at night, even in this part of the city.

Ada bit her lip. She held the lantern high, peering into the shadows, assessing every inch of the room.

The beam of light winked off a brass plate in the center of a door at the end of the hall. Stanton’s office.

Please don’t let it be locked, she prayed, as she rushed to it.

For once, luck was on her side. The knob turned easily. She hurried inside.

Dandy that he was, he always had a spare suit at the ready.

And there it was, clean and pressed and perfect, hanging on the inside of the water closet door.

She yanked off the foul dress. They were of a height, but she could have fit two of herself inside Stanton’s trousers.

No matter.

She grabbed the braces already buttoned to the waistband of the trousers. Urgency made her fingers clumsy, and it took longer than it should have to pull them up over her shoulders.