“Good point.”
And he had searched. He searched every cupboard, every shed and closet and cubbyhole on the whole estate. He’d searched the closet not three feet from the damned basket.
“No one would. It’s a woman’s place.” She stood and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “Just an unimportant lump of used clothing.”
“Right in the open.” His grin widened, stretching the muscles at the corners of his lips.
“Exactly.” Her chest heaving with exertion, she bent forward again to inch the heavy basket further out into the room.
Edison moved to help her. One hearty pull and he had the thing out in the open.
She scooped the pile of fabric off of the top and smiled up at him with the joy of a child opening a Christmas package. Her emotion cut right to his core, bubbling upward, through his chest, filling him with sunshine.
He tried not to let the power of it rock him back on his heels. For an instant, it seemed as if he shared her bliss, her pride in creating something others had sought for so very long.
It was a magnificent creation. Solidly built and encased in a gleaming brass cylinder, the design alone impressed.
“Allow me.” Edison lifted it out of the basket and held it out at arm’s length, admiring the workmanship. It was heavy. Heavy as granite of a similar size might be. She wouldn’t be able to carry it far on her own.
Ada plucked off a stray sock caught on the terminals at the top and stepped back.
He turned it from side to side, studying the expert welds seaming the casing. About two feet high and two feet around, it was more of an oval than a strict cylinder. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She caressed the edges of the terminals. “Packs far more voltage than I thought possible.”
“Impressing the Royal Navy isn’t a small thing.”
“I suppose not.” She ran a finger around the top edge. “After all the upheaval, I’ll be glad to have it off my hands.” She lifted her hand away and curled her fingers into her palm. Sadness seemed to darken her eyes. “I confess, I never thought I’d say that.”
Edison hefted it a few inches higher. “Don’t blame you. This has turned into a nasty business.” He set it back in the basket. “Ada please, at least allow me to see you through the carriage ride. Foolish to refuse.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been accused of that particular character flaw.” She touched his arm. “But don’t think I’m not grateful. The way you handled Archie, and that stoat, Spottswood. Impressive.”
He hung his head, not wanting to appear anything less than humble at her praise.
None of it had been difficult.
Watching her flit about her workshop, smelling of lilac and lemons, her attention riveted by measurements and chemicals and potions. Knowing he couldn’t pursue her.
That had been difficult.
He looked up. Her fingers were twisted into a knot at her waist, and she was looking at his face, looking for something he couldn’t pinpoint.
He cleared his throat.
“As I was saying, it has been… interesting.” She gave him a small smile. “You and your league are a most remarkable group of souls. Very… adventurous.”
“Adventurous.” He squinted at her, trying to divine whether that was a good thing. Her tone had been noncommittal.
“Yes, well, if you wouldn’t mind?” She pointed at the battery, nestled in its wicker basket. “That should be the last task.”
“Should be.” He hefted the device and started out of the room.
Should be at that.
Damn it to hell.
Ada’s escort stood shoulder to shoulder at the bottom of the stairs. Three uniformed men, one captain in his officer’s uniform, and two seamen.
It didn’t signify, of course, but a quick stab of jealousy hit him when he realized she’d be spending the first part of the journey in the company of a spit-shined navy man.
Ada greeted the men and grabbed her traveling cloak and gloves from the hatstand by the door.
Edison shouldered the device, preparing to load it into the carriage before saying his goodbyes, but before they were out the door, Meena and Spencer headed down the stairs in their robes, looking sleepy and suspiciously sated, to his eye.
Behind them, the elderly Mrs. Fogle and her companion descended a sight more slowly.
“Have we missed the parlor games?” the old woman shouted out. “I do so want to play a hand or two of Faro.”
Before the rest of them could react, Meena turned and placed a comforting hand on the lady’s arm. “Not at all, Mrs. Fogle. You haven’t missed a thing.”
The old thing smiled. “That’s grand.”
Meena turned back toward them. “Don’t worry, Ada. We have everything in hand.”
With a quick glance at her grandmother, Ada nodded and moved to follow her escort outside. Carrying the wide basket, Edison negotiated the doorway behind them.
He studied the men, the way they moved, the way the lower ranked swabbies appeared to defer to their superior officer as he ordered them about.
Everything seemed to be on the up and up, but Edison couldn’t shake the odd feeling that niggled at him.
He handed the battery over to the seamen, who set it carefully in the back of the carriage.
Something didn’t feel right.
He eyed the captain who was handing Ada up into the carriage. Tall and well-built, he seemed to have a military bearing. His uniform looked to be in good condition, and it fit him well.
Same with the lower ranked men.
Edison ran a hand over the back of his neck and shuffled his feet. Maybe he wanted there to be something wrong.
Wanted there to be some reason for her to stay.
Rushing around him as if he were nothing but a boulder set in their way, the two seamen strapped Ada’s luggage on the back of the coach while the captain climbed inside.
With Ada.
Edison folded his arms over his chest and tried to appear as if his wasn’t tempted to pull the man out the window by his necktie.
“Ready, Captain,” the larger of the seamen announced.
“Right then. Let’s be off,” the captain directed, and leaned back in his seat.
Ada wrapped her fingers over the open ledge of the window. “Good bye.” She gave him a sad, sweet smile, and waved as the carriage jerked forward.
At least he wanted to think it was a sad smile.
He wanted her to miss him. Stupid, that.
As the coach headed down the drive, he turned back to the house.
He didn’t want her to leave.
The thought stopped him right there at the base of the steps. When had he ever worried about a woman leaving?
He scratched his head. Odd that. But she was, after all, a truly amazing woman.
Amazing enough to account for the empty ache in his stomach, and the hollow feeling in his chest.
But not amazing enough to explain the spark of trouble he sensed.
Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.