Saving the Scientist Read online

  Legs suddenly weak with wanting, Ada swayed on her feet.

  Still holding her gaze, he brushed his hands over the tabletop. “I desire you right here, right now.” He grunted. “Unfortunately, that would strain the bounds of propriety.”

  Edison pushed back from the table. “In short, Mrs. Templeton, feel free to imagine that I desire you at all times, in every possible position."

  Without another word, he stalked out of the room.

  Lightheaded with the possibilities he so lovingly detailed, Ada pulled out the nearest chair and sank down before her trembling knees gave out.

  Damned if she hadn’t let the tiger out of the cage.

  * * *

  He’d hoped going back to the league offices to work would clear his head.

  Quite the opposite.

  Working shoulder to shoulder with Ada—even in his large workshop—was proving a formidable distraction.

  Edison stood in front of his workbench, hand poised to pull down a jar of powder from the assortment on the shelf above, but he couldn’t recall what he’d been after.

  It was that damned violet scent. Light and feminine, innocent yet somehow formidably seductive, that perfume of hers was scrambling his thoughts.

  He was going to miss it.

  Truth be told, there were a great many things about Ada Templeton he was going to miss.

  Edison slanted a quick glance in her direction. She remained at the far end of the long workbench, engrossed in the calculations for his smoke bombs. In that magical way women had of turning their attention to the task at hand, she seemed to have no difficulty setting aside their heated encounter at the breakfast table to focus on work.

  The empty brass shell of a disodorizer sat open on the workbench in front of her. She stared down at it, tiny frown lines furrowing the bridge of her nose.

  Then she bit her lip and considered the array of chemical powders arranged on the shelves above. “I’ve been thinking, if it’s more smoke you’re after, you might try adding sugar. It should burn at a great rate.”

  The woman was a wonder. He set his hands on his hips and stared at her in wonder. “I never considered that.”

  She gave him a little squib of a smile and proceeded to fill the shell with potassium nitrate.

  Edison watched her delicate hands as she worked with that quick, efficient style he’d come to know. Having Ada in his workshop was torture of the most excruciating kind.

  And that plain dress suited her in the best kind of way. Spare and simple, it accentuated her lithe form in a way ruffles and bows and the like would not.

  She seemed to find her conservative dress dull and uninspiring.

  He found her look incendiary.

  All those tiny buttons to be unfastened, to say nothing of the way the unadorned style allowed her curves to take center stage.

  Edison groaned silently. No matter what she wore, Ada ignited his senses.

  Not that there was a damn thing he could do about it. Not with his family and Nelly, and their newest recruit knocking about in the front offices.

  Sensing his scrutiny, Ada gave him a questioning look.

  He snapped his own attention back to the task at hand. Sodium bicarbonate. That’s what he’d been about to grab before his thoughts tore off on their own.

  Though the powder required precise measurement, Edison couldn’t help but strain to hear the conversation going on in the main office. He had hours yet before he needed to leave for the Admiral’s offices, and little left to prepare.

  They could leave. The entire lot of them.

  Perhaps they’d decide to dine out? Or head home?

  Anything that would give him time to coax Ada into his bed.

  There wouldn’t be many more chances.

  Edison palmed the bottom half of a smoke bomb and raised it to eye level so he could add the precise amount of saltpeter. Too little and the thing wouldn’t smoke at all. Too much and it would catch fire… or explode. Lower lip caught between his teeth, he tapped the powder into the tiny compartment.

  Was that the kettle whistling? Damnation, were they brewing tea? Would they never leave?

  His hand trembled, sending the last few grains of chemical onto the floor. “Satan’s biscuits.”

  With a disgusted sigh he poured the powder that had made it into the device back into the open jar and dropped the shell down on the workbench. Now he’d have to re-measure.

  As he scooped the shell back up, Ada covered his hand with hers. “Let me.”

  Just that casual touch sent an electrical current straight to his very core. Just by breathing, the woman could make him hard.

  She slid the shell to her side of the bench and reached over him to grab the jar. “Three grams?”

  “Uh…” Edison heard the question, but the urge to grab her and kiss her silly interfered with his ability to form words.

  Her sly smile betrayed the fact that she sensed his conundrum.

  Open mouthed, Edison watched her fill the shell, her movements swift and precise.

  It was enough to make his head spin.

  When had he become such a ninnified school girl?

  Ada snapped the smoke bomb closed and dusted off her hands. “That should do it.” She slid the device back to him. “How many do you plan to take?”

  Edison stared down at the three bombs lined up on the bench. “These’ll do.”

  He didn’t expect to need any devices for a meeting at the Admiralty, but one never knew. It cost nothing to arrive prepared.

  Failing to plan could cost everything.

  Ada was holding one of the bombs up to the light. “These really are ingenious.”

  Edison shrugged. “I’d like to devise a real disordorizer. That would be ingenious.”

  The girlish, carefree grin she sent hit him like a blade to the heart. “No reason we can’t.” She held up the last empty shell. “Which scent should we try?”

  “Cherry.” He loved cherry. Cherry crumble. Cherry tarts. Tea cakes with cherry cream filling.

  Ada grabbed a scrap of paper. Before he knew it, she was scribbling down equations. “How much powder do the chambers hold?”

  “Ten fluidrams.” The answer came without thought. He’d been working on the things for months.

  She nodded in acknowledgement and pulled several jars down off the shelves. “I’d start with four fluidrams of bicarbonate to six of silica gel. I’ll leave the scent to you. Those chemicals are inert. They shouldn’t affect the reaction.”

  Edison could only stare. Had he died and gone to some sort of inventor’s version of Heaven?

  How had he never met a woman who’s mind was as arousing as her body?

  * * *

  “I’ve been wondering,” Ada asked as she measured, “how in the world did you learn such extraordinary skills?”

  Edison leaned against the workbench and shrugged half-heartedly “Born into a thieving family. We didn’t have a choice.”

  “Was it hard?”

  “Not at first.” He flicked an empty deodorizer shell, making it spin like a top. “Our fathers treated it as a game. Who could twitch that cashmere shawl without being noticed? Who was quickest opening the lockbox at the church bazaar? It wasn’t until we grew up that the three of us sprouted consciences.”

  “It seems odd your parents would expose you to such risks.”

  Edison laughed, but it far from a joyful sound. “Our mothers both passed on young, and our fathers…” He shrugged. “Our fathers were just bloody awful parents.”

  Ada nodded, her attention on the disodorizer. “Mine failed in other ways.” She stared up at the shelves. “It would have taken an exceptional woman to turn me into a social success, but my mother didn’t even try.” Her shoulders rose and fell as if she were shrugging off the memory. “Once it became clear I took more interest in beakers and potions than kid boots and lace, she threw up her hands.”

  Edison folded his arms over his chest, intent on her every word. He had t
he sense she didn’t discuss such things often.

  “You married well,” he said.

  Her sad smile hit him in the midsection.

  She wiped her hands on a rag. “Harrison was kind. He even indulged my passion for chemistry.” She raised her head until her gaze met his. “Unfortunately, he was my father’s protégé. Passion wasn’t something we shared.”

  “I understand.” He shouldn’t press, shouldn’t go anywhere near such a volatile subject, yet he found the words tumbling from his lips. “What now?”

  Raised eyebrows signaled her confusion.

  “Now that you’ve discovered passion?” Edison closed his hand over hers. “What now?”

  Ada met his gaze. The dark center of her eyes dilated. Her breath became short and shallow.

  He couldn’t be certain, but he imagined that her pulse quickened against his palm.

  Her lips parted. “I—"

  “Need any help?” Meena called out, jarring Edison out of the sensual fog. She poked her head into the room.

  He pulled his hand back as if he’d touched a hot stove rather than a willing woman. “All good,” he shouted rather more sharply than he’d intended.

  “I see.” She grinned, in no way put off by his gruff response. A twinkle of amusement reached her eyes as well. “I think we’ll be off then. Henry is in dire need of clothes, and Nelly loves to shop. Who would have guessed?”

  As she didn’t seem to require a response, Edison remained silent, hands balled into fists at his side, trying to appear as if he had no idea there was a sensual, willing creature a hand’s breath away.

  “I’ll send Spencer and Briar home in your hansom. She has a lesson with Master Tadeoka this afternoon. Spencer can drive her,” Meena prattled on. “I’ll take Harvey and Nelly to the haberdashery. We’ll be back in time to drive you to your meeting.”

  They were leaving. The lot of them. Edison had to force himself to concentrate on the rest of her words.

  “I’m sure you two have a few more things to sort out.” Meena waggled her fingers and disappeared back down the hallway.

  He couldn’t have sworn to it, but he was almost certain she was chuckling.

  The clock seemed to tick more loudly in the resulting silence.

  Ada set the open shell in front of him. “Time to add your scent.”

  “Right.” Edison searched the disorganized space for the vial of cherry-scented elixir he’d fashioned weeks ago, but his ears were straining to hear the front door close behind the group.

  By the time Ada filled the container with his elixir, the front door closed behind the chattering group, leaving the offices ringing with silence.

  The snick of the two halves if his disodorizer fitting together echoed in the quiet. Ada set the device on the countertop and drummed her fingers on the thick wood.

  Her edginess infected him as well. Anticipation hung in the air between them like a physical presence. He felt like a damned school boy who hadn’t the least idea how to seduce a woman.

  He could at least secure the door. He pressed the door closed and engaged the lock.

  Ada had moved away from the bench to study his half-finished automaton. She bent down, frowning at the open back of the butler. “Is that mechanical spring working an adequate power source?”

  Her violet scent surrounded him as Edison joined her peering at the jumble of wheels and pulleys and metal springs inside the main chamber. “No. It’s been the biggest hurdle. Can’t build a flywheel big enough to power it for more than a few minutes.”

  Ada knelt down, peering deeper into the chamber. “I think I have a solution to your power issues.”

  At any other time, such news would have sent him into a frenzy of construction, but his automatic butler held little appeal when he had Ada all to himself.

  He slid a hand around her upper arm and tugged her gently to her feet. “I imagine you do, but that’s not the sort of power I’m interested in at the moment.”

  “Oh?”

  Edison didn’t respond with words. He traced a finger down the delicate slope of her nose and over the lush curve of her lower lip.

  “Oh,” she breathed.

  When he cupped the edges of her head and pulled her into his kiss, she made the most gratifying sigh against his mouth.

  By the time his fingers tangled in the tiny buttons of her bodice, he was trembling with need. Need mingled with the sour tinge of regret.

  He’d never considered the end before.

  He took what was offered and when the spark of lust and momentary companionship faded, he walked away. Tomorrow would bring what it would bring.

  Now tomorrow would bring pain.

  Buttons undone, he bared her chest to his hot gaze. Even as he bent his head to rain kisses on her creamy skin, the realization persisted.

  Meena was right. Why did she have to be right?

  Ada Templeton was going to leave a mark.

  Chapter 18

  Edison was late.

  Maybe. Possibly. Or not, if one accounted for the horrid traffic on the Waterloo bridge.

  Still, it felt like he was late, which amounted to the same thing.

  Ada closed the sensation novel Meena had lent her and stared at the curious cupid-rimmed clock in the parlor for the tenth time in as many minutes.

  Grunts and thuds loud enough to shake the walls rolled into the room from the entryway. Dressed head to toe in black, Briar paced about the wide space, practicing sword thrusts and intricate fighting moves like some sort of golden-curled oriental assassin.

  Meena worked away at her writing desk. The scratch of ink across paper filled the quiet spaces between Briar’s lunges and the ticking of the casement clock.

  Her husband had gone to stoke the stove so Nelly could put together a stew.

  Though each took care to pretend indifference, Ada had been around Edison’s family long enough to sense their concern.

  She traced the gilt script on the cover of the book. Before worry began nibbling away at her attention, she’d actually been enjoying the outsized escapades of the author’s eccentric cast of characters.

  How was it she’d never felt the vicarious enjoyment of rooting for the plucky heroine? Or delighted in a shiver of fear over the villain’s evil scheme to ruin her?

  The few times she’d picked up a novel, the small details that didn’t fit had niggled so, she’d overlooked an entire world of enjoyment. After all, the average reader would hardly be aware that potassium nitrate couldn’t blow up a building, or vinegar mixed with bicarbonate couldn’t eat through cotton, let alone liquify inch-thick steel. Now that the story had captured her, she understood that those small details needn’t overshadow the action—the emotion—a clever scribe like Caldwell Nance could tease out of the page.

  Perhaps she did have an imagination after all.

  Ada propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and stared out at the storm-darkened street, watching the gusts of wind pluck the last of the summer’s leaves off the bare branches.

  It wasn’t enough to take her mind off of Edison. Her stomach tightened. So very many things could have gone wrong.

  Meena was watching her. “I do hate this part.”

  “Does it get easier?”

  Meena sent her a sympathetic smile. “No.”

  Ada ran a finger around the edges of the book. “I was afraid you might say that.”

  Meena thrust her pen back into the inkwell and rose. “No sense staring at that old thing,” she waved at the dour-looking cherubs on the clock. “We need an adventure.” She jumped up and motioned for Ada to follow her into the entryway.

  “We’d like a lesson,” she said to Briar, who froze, sword high above her head, ready to plunge through the heart of an imaginary enemy.

  The taller girl grinned. “What an excellent idea.”

  She set her weapon down on the stairs and surveyed Ada from the tips of her sensible shoes to the tidy bun neatly secured at the base of her neck. “I don’t suppose
you’ve had any training in the fighting arts?”

  “No.”

  “Not to worry.” Briar plucked two black umbrellas from the stand next to the front door. “That’s probably for the best. Master Tadeoka says it’s easier to teach new habits than change bad ones.”

  Ada stared in wonder at Briar’s outfit. Dull black cotton with ribbon frogs in place of buttons and a curiously split skirt, it seemed designed for maximum movement.

  “It’s purposely plain,” Briar explained. “You wouldn’t want a shiny button to glint in the moonlight, giving away your position.”

  “And ruffles and bows only get in the way,” Meena added.

  “I see your point.” How eminently sensible. Nothing to attract the eye or catch the tip of a sword. Such an outfit would work well in the laboratory.

  “Let’s start with parasols.” Briar handed one to each of them.

  Meena studied the pointed tip fondly. “It’s fascinating, the damage these can do.”

  “Let’s demonstrate,” Briar said. Unarmed herself, she affected a menacing stance. “I’ll play the villain.”

  Meena turned her back on her cousin and rested her hands on the handle of the umbrella, as if she were window shopping or waiting for an omnibus. “Do your worst.”

  “She doesn’t mean that,” Briar said to Ada. “My worst is rather destructive, if I might be so bold.”

  As Ada watched, Briar snuck up behind Meena, just as Ada imagined a cutpurse would. She reached over Meena’s shoulder, clearly planning to pull her back off her feet, but before Briar could gain any momentum, Meena ducked under her arm and spun around to face her, thrusting the tip of her parasol at the vulnerable underside of Briar’s chin.

  “Excellent!” Briar stepped away. “The key is to react quickly, without hesitation. Had she given me time, I would have had her arms pinned to her sides.”

  Ada nodded, fascinated by the skill and vigor both women exhibited. “But what if you’re unarmed?”

  Meena and Briar shared a look.

  “That’s the genius of Master Tadeoka’s training,” Meena said. “You’re never unarmed.”