Ada’s stomach churned. It was her last meeting with Sir Helmsley before she delivered the device to the naval architects at the secret construction site. She wanted to project confidence. And now, because she couldn’t bring herself to follow one more of Edison’s blasted suggestions, she was going to arrive unforgivably late.
She gripped the leather strap of her satchel until her knuckles turned white, and bit her lip, trying to hold back the scream of aggravation that wanted to burst from her lungs. Her goal was only a quarter mile away. A simple stroll from their position, straight down Whitehall almost to Trafalgar Square, sat the old Admiralty. And in it, three or four very important, very impatient men waited in Admiral Helmsley’s elegant office.
And between her and her goal, Whitehall was completely blocked by a gigantic excavation project.
Worry surged through her, making her almost lightheaded. What would be the quickest way around? Right to Downing Street, or left across Richmond Terrace? Each would add precious minutes, especially trying to cut through the lunchtime crowds. Ada tightened her grip on the satchel, and strode purposefully to her right, where the wide base of Whitehall squeezed into a narrow side street, little more than an ancient alley between tall buildings.
"Not that way." Edison grabbed her arm.
Ada tried to shake off his grasp. "Do not tell me what to do."
"See that?" He jutted his chin toward the left side of the alleyway.
With a distinct lack of grace, she glanced in the direction he indicated. A great collection of men, men in suit coats, workers in shirtsleeves, and the odd uniformed officer all funneled down the lane, pressing shoulder to shoulder through its small space. They looked like a great stream of molasses, oozing slowly—far too slowly—into the narrow opening.
“Too easy to be trapped there." He was standing tall, head constantly turning, as he surveyed the chaos. “It’s what I’d do if I were after you. Perfect place for an abduction.”
“There is no one after me.”
“How would you know? Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”
Ada balled her hands into fists. His logic was dizzying.
The clock in her head was ticking. Loudly. She pictured the Admiral, his secretary, his secretary’s secretary, and so on. Their expressions would be shifting now, changing from polite concern at her absence to irritation.
She tried to unclench her jaw enough to speak. “If I’ve not made it clear before, this meeting is vastly important.”
“Indeed you have. Numerous times.” Edison loosened his grip, but his attention remained on the scene around them. "They can damn well wait. We will be there as quickly as we can."
“Wait?” Ada finally succeeded in pulling out of his grasp. Anger shoved her a few steps back. "These men are of the highest levels of the Admiralty. They do not wait!"
A rising sense of panic made her jittery, made her vision jerk and dance in the most disconcerting manner. She was dimly aware that her breath was coming harder, faster. They couldn't move forward, and now he'd cut off yet another route.
He might have shrugged. It was hard to tell as they were being jostled from all sides now by the surging crowd. “We could not have anticipated this mess. They’ll understand. It's not like they're going to offer less for the device because they've been inconvenienced."
"This isn't about money." She stared up at him as his as if he was the stupidest thing she'd ever seen.
Her anger seemed to have no effect on him. He simply waited. Waited for her to attack him. Waited for her to calm down. Waited for her to make the next move.
Frustration and anger and worry melded into a lump in her chest so painful she couldn’t think, couldn’t find the words to make him understand.
She strode back and forth in front of him, moving so quickly, so stiffly, her skirts flared up about her ankles. Finally, having worn out a bit of her anger, she stopped straight in front of him, hands planted on her hips. "It's about respect, Mr. Sweet. Respect for my scientific skills, my mind, my inventiveness."
She shoved Briar’s hat back out of her eyes. “No matter how innovative my work, you do realize I have a greater chance of seeing a mermaid, than addressing the Royal College.” She turned away, not wanting him to see the angry tears that were welling up. “This is my one chance to be recognized, to be treated as a real scientist.”
When she trusted that no tears would fall, she gave him a quick glance. It didn’t appear he’d even heard her. His attention was on the surrounding crowd. She could almost see the calculations running through his brain as he assessed each exit point.
When he turned back toward her, his eyes were hard and focused. "How’s your play acting?"
"My… What?"
"I need you to faint."
Confused, Ada could only blink up at him.
"Faint." His voice held a sharp edge of impatience. "You've seen it done, have you not? I'm going to get us past that barrier.” He snatched her hand, and pulled her toward the side of the street, away from the crowds. "I need you to wilt in my arms."
"But—" Ada tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Things were getting further out of control by the second. “Where is this leading exactly?”
Edison leaned a shoulder against the brick wall and waited. “Tick tock, Mrs. Templeton."
“Fine.” She drooped against him and let her eyelids flutter closed.
He scooped her up into his arms with disconcerting ease, nestling her against his chest. “Relax your limbs.” He shook her gently. “You’re overcome, not dead.”
The brim of Briar’s outsized hat flapped against her face, and her arms and legs swung disconcertingly through the air. It was all she could do to keep her eyes closed and her face devoid of tension as he strode across the square. "Pardon me. Excuse me." His deep voice vibrated through her as he squeezed his way through the crowd.
"Can't come through here, sir." An officious young voice halted them.
The sounds of construction were louder now, bricks being tossed into piles, shovels and pneumatic drills slamming into the earth. Ada tried not to smile as she realized his plan.
"It's my wife.” Edison had a convincing edge of worry in his voice. “She fainted. If I could just get through.”
“Can’t allow it. Too dangerous. There’s a bench there, out of the sun. You can rest there. I’m sure one of the other ladies passing by will have smelling—”
“What’s your name, son?” Edison allowed a hint of intimidation into his tone. “I want to be able to tell Admiral Helmsley just who required his niece to lie unattended in the street.”
“W-which admiral did ya say again?”
“Good lord, Mason, the man's got a fair load there. Let them by." Another, more authoritative vote for voice overode the younger man. “May we help, sir?”
“I’ve got her. Happens all too frequently now that she’s increasing.”
Ada gasped. Her face burned at his insinuation.
“Steady on,” he whispered.
She couldn’t be sure, but his voice seemed to carry an undertone of laughter.