Cheeks flaming, Ada looked away. Just a glance, and he had her ready to slip into his bed. Not just ready, but eager. Would her reaction to him ever dim?
“Of all the damned things.” Still ramrod straight, the Admiral puffed up his considerable chest and eyed each member of the group as if they were a sorry band of new recruits.
“I did try to tell you, sir,” Edison said.
The admiral harrumphed.
Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose as if suddenly struck by a terrible headache.
Meena eyed her cousin as if he’d gone completely batty.
“Bloody hell, Edison, you were supposed to talk to the man, not kidnap him.” Briar berated her brother. “We’re terribly sorry, sir. We don’t do this often as a general rule.”
“I had to improvise.” Edison raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Things at Whitehall didn’t go exactly to plan.”
“There’s a shock,” Meena muttered. She crossed to the window next to the front door and peered out at the street beyond. “We’d best design some sort of plan before the rest of the Royal Navy gets here.”
Chapter 19
Admiral Helmsley tugged on his uniform tunic so hard the medals on his chest jingled. “Wish you could have explained all this at my offices, boy.”
Lucifer’s trousers, the man was a stubborn old goat. Edison ran a hand through his hair. Better that than give the old codger a good pop on the nose.
The old sailor hadn’t believed a word of Edison’s story, though if he were being fair-minded, it was a fantastical tale. Still, dragging the man out of his offices at gunpoint might have been a miscalculation.
At least they hadn’t been followed.
Young Henry showed admirable skills piloting the ungainly growler through afternoon traffic. Not having to drive gave Edison leave to make certain there was no one on their tail.
“Did you have to bring him to the house?” Spencer asked, irritation clear in his clipped tone. “No offense meant, sir.”
“None taken.” The older man rocked back on his heels and wrapped his arms across his round chest. “Well Sweet? You got me here. Let’s get down to business. The wife’s angling to attend some God-awful soiree this evening. My salty arse won’t be worth a ha’penny if she misses it on my account.”
Before Edison could point out that they never would have left the comfort of his well-appointed offices had he chosen to take Edison at his word, Meena stepped between them.
“Let’s sit a moment, shall we?” She took the admiral’s arm and led him toward the dining room. “Are you hungry? We have stew.”
“I am rather peckish, now you mention it. Any ale by chance? I’ve never been kidnapped. A pint wouldn’t go amiss.”
Meena jerked her head at Briar. “I believe Mr. H just purchased a jug of Flannery’s finest. Should be in the pantry.”
Once their odd crew was seated around the table, bowls of stew and ale in front of them, Edison took a long swallow of beer. Ada sat at the Admiral’s right. He tried to catch her eye, but she seemed intent on her conversation with the old seaman.
Though she was again dressed in one of her practical working dresses, she fit there next to the old officer. Every time the man laughed, his chest full of medals winked in the light from the chandelier above the table, reminding Edison that he himself had no such accomplishments to show.
Ada did. Ada had created a power source that was going to change the world.
He fashioned crude devices that didn’t work—at least not the way he intended. When he wasn’t doing that, he was skulking about the city’s nasty underbelly, chasing criminals.
It wasn’t a world she knew.
It wasn’t a world where she belonged.
Though the stew was hearty, with just the right touch of spice, he pushed his bowl away half-eaten. She belonged in accomplished, learned circles, teaching men like Spottswood that women were going to think rings around them, whether they cared to admit it or not.
The last place a woman like Ada Templeton belonged was in his bed.
There it was. The bare truth of it. If he was any kind of gentleman, he wouldn’t tempt her again.
“Why did you bring Admiral Helmsley here?” Meena asked him.
Edison glared at the old man. “He wasn’t interested in the device.”
“Not true,” the admiral cut in. “Wouldn’t be any good without Mrs. Templeton is all.”
Spencer paused in the middle of buttering a roll. “Why not?”
“Gadget’s useless without the person who can make it work.” He pointed his butter knife at Spencer. “There’ll be things to change, bits needing adjusting and such. No one but the creator’d be able to do that.”
He reached for Ada’s hand. “And might I add, I’m thrilled to the teeth you’re unharmed, my dear.”
Ada smiled at him fondly.
Edison set his spoon down. A dreadful thought took hold. “Are you saying no one’ll buy the battery from an intermediary?”
Silence fell as everyone but the old officer contemplated that thought.
He patted his substantial belly and sat back in his seat with a great sigh of satisfaction. “No one with any brains in their heads.” He wiped his lips with his serviette. “With a device as complicated as Mrs. Templeton’s dry cell battery, it’s the designer you want. She’s the golden goose. Without her knowledge, the thing’s just a damned expensive paperweight.”
Ada’s eyes widened. She caught Edison’s gaze. “So it’s only of use to someone who can pretend they developed it.”
“I’d say so.”
“That eliminates you,” Spencer said to Edison.
Edison forced himself not to slam his fists down on the table. It did at that.
Meena pushed aside her bowl. “We need a new plan of attack.”
The admiral patted Ada’s hand. “Hate to say it, my dear, but if it were me, I’d dangle you in front of this villain.”
Edison could feel his family struggling to maintain an outward expression of calm. He was doing the same.
The longer he’d spent in Helmsley’s company, the less he believed the older man had anything to do with the attack.
But there was his staff. And Ada’s friend, the owner of the chemical company. Possibly that insufferable gent they’d stumbled across outside the Admiralty. Lord knew her stepbrother wanted to get his hands on her work. Every one of them had staff and servants to account for as well. Staff and servants who could be bought.
Too many possibilities to track.
The Admiral was right. They’d have to use Ada as bait.
Edison pressed his palms to his tired eyes. They’d accomplished part of their goal. The admiral knew Ada was alive and her battery was still available. He could only hope the older man would spread the news wide and far. Whoever wanted the device should know about it by morning if they didn’t already.
In the meantime, they did indeed need a new plan.
A plan even a highly decorated admiral had no need to hear.
Edison pushed back his chair. “We’ve presumed on your time long enough, sir. Should be getting you back to your house.”