As the man’s face was ground into the pavement, his response was nothing but a low rumble.
“What’s he saying?” Edison asked Henry.
The boy crouched down close to the man’s mouth. “Here now, what are you going on about?”
“F-f-flowers.”
“He said, ‘flowers,’” Henry repeated.
“I heard.” Edison eased his weight off of the man’s back just enough to allow him to turn his head. “What about them?”
“F-for Mrs. Templeton.” The man wriggled a hand beneath him, reaching for a jacket pocket. “… show you.”
“Stop.” Edison shoved him back down. “Could be a weapon.”
A great whoosh of air left the man’s flattened lungs. He groaned. “N-not a g-gun.”
“He says it’s not—” Henry began.
“I heard.” Edison gave the boy a hard look. “I’m going to turn him over. Be ready.”
As Edison sank back on his heels, Henry raised his fists, as if readying for a fight. Edison grabbed the stranger by the shoulder and flipped him onto his back.
“Ouch.” The man winced as the back of his head connected with the pavement.
“Bloody hell!” A voice from the crowd rang out. “He’s got that man—”
“What’re you about there!” Another man yelled.
A group of well-dressed gents gathered around the carriage, shock plain on their faces.
Edison ignored them, his attention on the man he’d just smashed to the pavement.
The scent of roses wafted up from the ground.
Now that he was face-up, Ada could see the poor thing was rather young. Old enough to grow a thin mustache, but with cheeks still plump with youth.
A bouquet of pink roses peaked out between the folds of his jacket, their blooms crushed and torn.
“For the lady?” Edison yanked the ruined flowers from the man’s coat and held them up to the light, squinting at the tangle of wilted blooms as if were a dangerous weapon.
“I’m an admirer,” the slender man offered, but the fear in his eyes suggested he was rethinking his allegiance.
Ada rushed out of the carriage, all but tumbling down on top of the poor, abused dear. “I am so terribly sorry.” She grabbed the ruined bouquet from Edison and pressed it to her bosom. “They’re lovely.”
“They were,” the man muttered.
She set the flowers inside the carriage. “My… cousin is overly concerned about my welfare.”
Edison scooped his hands under the smaller man and set him on his feet. “With good reason.” He glared down at the white-faced man. “You should know better than to come rushing up on people.”
The man’s jaw dropped open. “But I—”
“No matter.” Edison brushed dried leaves from his victim’s shoulders. “No harm done.”
“To you.” Ada glared at him. She reached out and shook the man’s limp hand. “I do apologize most vigorously.”
The man yanked his hand from her grasp and backed away, eyes wide.
Before she could think of anything more reassuring to add, he retrieved his hat from the pavement and scurried off down the street.
Anger rose up in her throat, tightening her jaw muscles until her teeth ground together. Anger at the pig who had turned her life so upside down she was frightened of a kind stranger. Anger at Edison for his hotheaded ways.
The instant he joined her in the carriage, she rounded on him. “Was that really necessary?”
His head jerked as if she’d slapped him. “The man rushed up and reached into his coat. Should I’ve waited for him to shoot you? Plunge a knife into your chest?”
“They were flowers.” The words barely made it past the anger clogging her throat.
“Could have been a weapon.”
“That’s how you think, isn’t it?”
He gave her a wary glance, as if expecting an attack. “It’s how I keep people alive.”
Ada turned her back to him. “By imagining there’s a killer behind every pillar and post?”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“I don’t agree.”
“What do you mean?”
Ada twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I’m not sure this is worth the price.”
Nor was it worth the torture.
It wasn’t just that poor man, although she rather liked the idea of having an admirer.
It was Edison. It was the way he breathed. The way he moved and talked and... existed.
She couldn’t stand being in the same space with him. Couldn’t stand looking at his beautiful mouth. Couldn’t stand breathing his distinctive scent.
She couldn’t sit across from him for one more second, knowing she’d never spend another night in his arms.
Grief choked off her air. She stretched toward the door handle. “I’ll walk.”
*
Edison reached the handle of the carriage before her and held it shut. “You will not.”
With the other hand, he rubbed his freshly shaved chin. What in blazing hell had gotten into the woman?
“Let’s be off,” he called out to Henry. The sooner they got moving, the sooner she’d calm down. He hoped.
With a sharp jolt, Henry guided the horse out into the noontime traffic.
Ada retreated to her corner of the seat, as if his mere presence offended.
Still wary, Edison stayed balanced on the edge of the bench, ready to block her exit, should she try again. Henry had the coach moving now, but they weren’t rolling fast enough to deter her if she got it in her mind to fly out.
The clatter of wheels over cobbles filled the small space.
“That was foolish,” Ada said. “I apologize.”
Edison swallowed the rebuke on the tip of his tongue. It had indeed been a foolish impulse, from a woman not given to them. Clouds scudded across the sun, changing the light from bright to dark and back again, blasting her face with white light, then plunging her into shadow with disconcerting rapidity.
Much like she must feel. He tossed down the fake spectacles and pressed the heels of his hands against his tired eyes. From her life of scholarly reflection, she’d been dropped straight into a fight for her life.
And then some.
Enough to put anyone off their game.
And the worst of it was yet to come. One way or another, she’d come face to face with the monster who wanted her dead.
That couldn’t help but change a person. Facing that kind of evil stripped away innocence.
Once she looked evil in the eye, she wouldn't see the world—or him—in the same way.
Ada was staring out the window, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the handles of her handbag.
If he moved his leg a few inches, he could touch her.
He ached to hold her, to run his hands over her curves, to kiss her while she moaned in pleasure.
None of which would make their parting less painful.
He curled his fingers into fists, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. His acting skills were superb. She had no idea how hard it was to maintaining his distance.
It was killing him.
The little hat, wire stems of its glass cherries twisted and bent, sat on the seat next to him, radiating disapproval. She wouldn’t believe it now, but she’d find another man, an intelligent, educated man of good breeding. A man who’s station matched her own.