She felt off-balance, as if she could topple straight to the floor. Her face grew hot, then icy cold.
“Hey miss, you okay?” The boy’s voice sounded muffled, as if it were coming from much farther away than the other side of the table.
“I think she’s gonna do a facer.”
*
Edison gripped her shoulders as she swayed toward her plate.
Large hands firm but gentle, he pulled her back upright.
“Steady now,” he murmured close to her ear.
Ada nodded slowly, her vision—and her equilibrium—returning.
“My apologies.” The tall detective looked pained. “I forget not everyone deals in ugly realities.”
Ada waved away his expression of regret. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should be the one begging pardon.” She managed a wan smile. “I’m not usually so delicate.”
“You’re not usually being stalked by a killer,” Meena added.
“I feel so guilty.” Ada stared down at her empty plate. “That poor woman.”
The detective shook his head. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, Mrs. Templeton. That beast is the one who should be concerned.” He leaned forward, his eyes bright with a different kind of passion. “We will find him.”
Spencer and Edison nodded in agreement.
“He’d better hope you find him before we get our hands on him,” Briar added.
Despite the guilt still stabbing her in the gut, Ada couldn’t help but grin. A vengeful Briar would be a terrifying sight.
Murder hadn’t dimmed Edison’s appetite, she noticed. He plowed through an outsized portion of bacon while the conversation continued.
Across the table, Spencer ticked off points on his fingers. “The hired killers know nothing of use. There are no other clues at the murder scene, and the cottage lease was a dead end.” He tossed down his serviette. “We need a new lead to go on.”
Burke tilted his chin at her. “Tell me again, who knew the navy men were coming to collect you?”
Ada shared a look with Edison. “My household, and the men that attended the meeting with the Admiral.”
“Much of his staff, too, I should think,” Edison added.
Burke shook his head. “Too many possibilities.”
“Who would benefit?” Edison asked. “That’s the thing.” He wagged his fork at the group. “The Navy wants to buy it. They won’t care from whom.”
“Your manufacturer, Grenville, gets his contract from the Navy. He’ll benefit no matter what. He’d have no reason to harm you.” Meena looked at Ada for confirmation.
“Correct.” Ada stared up at the ceiling, thinking. “I’d like to think it’s Spottswood, the toad. He’d love the accolades, but it doesn’t fit.” She scowled at the elaborate chandelier above the table. “Even with his social connections, I can’t see how he could have known when I was being collected.”
Burke sat back in his chair. “Let’s try this from a different angle.” He tapped a finger to his lips. “What does our man want?”
“Money,” Briar answered. “He wants to sell Ada’s device. It’s worth a bloody fortune.”
Edison tapped a slice of toast on the edge of his plate. “The admiral’s already well-off. Ada’s friend’ll make his own fortune manufacturing the batteries. That leaves the admiral’s staff.”
“And their staffs,” Meena added.
“Any of them could be selling information to a nasty character like Spottswood.” Edison let out a great sigh and rubbed his chin. “That puts us back at the start.”
The boy looked at them all as if they were daft. “Who gives a witch’s arse why this bloke wants Mrs. T’s device? Why don’t you just trap him?”
The entire company froze, and stared, open-mouthed at the youth. Outside, birds chirped happily, an odd accompaniment to the discussion of mayhem and murder.
The boy stared at them from behind an ungodly pile of toast. “If this codger thought he could get another chance at the thing, he’d take it, wouldn’t he? He’s already gone all in.”
Edison shared a look with Spencer and Meena. “The boy’s spot on.” He snapped a slice of toast in two. “We’ll make him come to us.”
Everyone but Nelly studied the boy with varying degrees of awe.
Lips pursed in concentration, the little office girl tilted her head. “What happened to your accent? You sound like a public school nob.”
Panic flickered in his eyes. “I—I—,” he stammered.
“Good point.” Edison considered the lad. “We never did catch your name.”
Ada had never seen a face turn green so quickly. The boy looked as if he were about to toss up his meal. Had he a chance in hell of making it out the door, he would have run, of that she was certain.
“We’re not going to turn you in,” Briar assured him. “Are we?” The pointed look she sent the detective suggested only one correct response.
Eyes narrowed, the inspector gave the boy a steady look. “As long as there’s no reason to.”
The boy’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down as he swallowed. “No!"
“What’s your name then son?” the detective asked, his voice gentle.
The boy bent his head, obscuring his face behind a curtain of black hair. “Henry,” he mumbled finally.
“Henry…?”
“Atkins.” He licked his lips. “Henry Atkins.”
Having survived without being arrested on the spot, Henry folded his arms across his chest. A toss of his head swept thick hair back out of his eyes. The tilt of his chin suggested he was regaining some of his former bravado. “But I ain’t tellin’ you where I’m from.”
His street accent had reappeared as well.
Ada caught the knowing look that bounced between the league members. It ended with a tiny nod from Meena to her husband.
Spencer folded his arms over his chest and considered the boy. “How old are you, Mr. Atkins?”
“Nineteen.”
“Old enough.” Spencer grinned. “So then, Mr. Atkins, how’d you like a position?”
The boy’s mouth dropped open.
Nelly grumbled. “It’s only temporary.” She pinned him to his seat with a glare. “The Restitution League’s tip top. We’ve got special talents. Every one of us. You’ll have a mountain of proving to do if ya wanna stay.”
Still speechless, the boy could only nod.
The relief in his eyes tugged at Ada’s heart. Whatever side of the street the lad hailed from, he hungered to belong.
Under the guise of eating her toast, she studied Edison and his family. How had she failed to notice how lonely and quiet and rigidly predictable her life had become?
Maybe, like young Henry, she could grab a bit of that belonging for herself.
Temporary as it would be, she’d take that balm and hold it to her heart.
Chapter 17
“Are you going to eat that?” Edison’s hand hovered over the last of Ada’s bacon.
She slid her plate toward him. “Be my guest.”
Ada studied his well-made hands, his strong chin, his beautiful mouth, as he tucked into her food. There was no time to waste. She might never belong anywhere but her laboratory, but for now, she could pretend.
If she could convince Edison to play along.
An evil smile threatened to bloom. She tamped it down with ruthless efficiency.
Edison knew stealth. It drove his inventions.