Edison shifted her in his arms, as if he were tiring. Which she wouldn't have blamed him for in the least. She was a full grown woman. But the minute he maneuvered around the construction barrier, his grip solidified again.
Not many could have carried her so far without the slightest fear she’d be dumped on her bum.
It wasn't a moment later that he turned sharply to the side and allowed her legs to swing down to the ground. "That should do it. We're almost there."
His timing was exquisite. Any longer in his arms, and she thought she might never be able to throw off the fog of desire enveloping her. The hard muscles, the heat, the soap-scented skin generated an odd form of energy inside her. A pulsing, insistent energy that erased her anxiety and her anger, replacing it with an urgent, languid feeling.
Even though she knew full well she couldn’t afford the time, she had to dissipate the sensual fog. She straightened her hat, tugged down her sleeves, and gave the bodice of her gown a stiff pull.
Her efforts might have improved her appearance, but they did little to alter the web of desire he’d wrapped her in. And he, meanwhile, appeared blissfully unmoved by the thrill of holding her in his arms.
Damnably unfair, that.
She stalked after him as he strode back out on to the main thoroughfare. The empty thoroughfare. With its south entrance at Parliament Square blocked, the only pedestrian traffic on Whitehall proper, came from Trafalgar Square. Even the sun seemed brighter on this side of the barricade as it reflected off of the many marble fa?ades lining the wide square.
But she was still late.
With any luck, the men were entertaining each other over tea.
Or so she prayed.
While her anxiety was a bit lower, the entire ordeal had left her damp and ruffled. Not at all the impression she'd been hoping to present.
Practically running now, they made it to the main doors of the Old Admiralty in an instant. The only casualty was the fashionable cluster of crab apples atop of her borrowed hat.
She hoped Briar wouldn’t mind too much.
As they approached the two seamen guarding the doorway, she yanked the hat pins from the crown, and carefully removed the hat, hoping her hairstyle had fared better than her chapeau. Moving with military precision, the two men pulled the wide doors open.
Her brain screamed at her to hurry, but she slowed, taking a deep calming breath. They were already late. Rushing in flushed and flustered would only add to the issue.
She glanced at Edison. Despite running, despite carrying her across a crowded square, he appeared fresh and tidy as if his only exertion to date had been climbing into a private carriage.
How did he do it? She was certain she looked as if she’d been in a foot race. Sweat trickled unpleasantly down her back and beaded at her hairline.
She felt as if she looked like an overcooked tomato.
“Mrs. Templeton.” A slender officer crossed the lobby toward them. “I’m to take you to the admiral.” Without waiting for a response, the man executed a smart about face, and strode off across the polished marble.
Ada hurried after him, the wide brim of her hat fluttering against her skirts.
Edison matched her pace easily. "Don't worry about being late,” he said, his voice low enough only she could hear. “I’ve got a plan.”
"That won't be necessary." It was her meeting, her career, her reputation. She’d fix this herself. "I'm sure the admiral will forgive our tardiness."
“I agree with what you said about your reputation. It’s worth protecting.”
“Not necessary,” she whispered. Their escort had long legs and a quick stride. Breath was becoming a precious commodity.
“It may not be necessary, but it’s the least I can do.”
Before she could insist he drop the issue, he sped up until he was shoulder to shoulder with the officer.
Ada stopped in the middle of the hallway. The next time she found herself wishing she had a companion, someone to help shoulder the burdens of daily life, she’d remember moments like this.
Moments when a man—despite all evidence to the contrary—insisted on running her life as if it were a train devoid of an engineer.
*
By the time Ada’s meeting concluded, Edison's estimation of her had grown immensely. He’d concluded she had a formidable mind the instant they met, but he hadn't imagined she had the social sensibilities to charm a room like that.
With one notable exception, she’d impressed them all.
"I'm well pleased with this." Admiral Helmsley tapped a thick finger on Ada’s notes. "I'm sure the testing will come right along. I'll send our men to deliver you in two days. They have a list of everything you need?"
Ada nodded. "They should do. I sent it along weeks ago."
"Excellent."
The officer turned toward Ada’s old friend, Stanton Grenville. Apart from owning a chemical factory, this Grenville appeared to know Ada exceedingly well. Were the man not as round as he was tall, and old as Methuselah, Edison might have been more put out by his overt familiarity.
"Appreciate your joining us, Grenville.” The admiral addressed Ada’s friend. "Once she and our lot get the kinks worked out, should be a quick process for you to start manufacturing, eh?”
The heavy man coughed and nodded his head. "Absolutely, sir. Mrs. Templeton and I have had many conversations about the process. Grenville Chemical will be ready to go the minute you give the word."
"Splendid." The old navy man rose slowly to his feet, signaling an end to the meeting. “Any other questions, Captain Ravensworth?” He addressed a dour officer with a thin gray mustache who'd done nothing but glower at Ada from the edges of the room.
Not just glower. His every comment, every question, had been designed to make her look foolish.
"Only a caution, sir. Despite Mrs. Templeton's obvious… enthusiasm, she is a woman, after all, with a woman's delicate sensibilities." Though he addressed the admiral, Ada received the full weight of his gaze. "It would be prudent to have an alternate plan in place, should Mrs. Templeton’s nerves prove unequal to the strain."
Edison didn't have to see her to know that it was taking every ounce of restraint Ada had not to launch herself at the puffed up stoat. He knew it because his own chest swelled with the same seething anger.
Across the room, her old friend coughed loudly. The worried glance he sent Ada suggested he had the same concerns.
But Ada shook off the insults as she had every other attempt the man made to trip her up. Though her back and shoulders stiffened to stone, she sent her old friend a reassuring grin.
Edison couldn't help himself. He just couldn't. He stepped closer to the skinny captain, using his size to intimidate. “Your ability to recognize superior talent seems oddly lacking. Rather surprising in a navy man.”
The man's mouth gaped open very much like that of a cod. No, not a cod. Cods—as far as Edison knew—had spines.