A man whose good nature hadn’t been fractured by a life spent learning to recognize the base, the selfish, the criminally minded.
“It’s hard to believe this time tomorrow we could have him,” Ada mused, her focus still on the passing scenery. “I look forward to having my laboratory back. I can only imagine the Hapgoods will be ready for a break from Grandmama.”
“She’s charming.”
“She’s a trial.”
Edison nodded. He pleated the knees of his trousers between his fingers, searching for a way to keep the conversation going.
“What will you do after all this?” he asked. “You must have other ideas you’d like to develop.”
“Something requiring only calm and quiet,” Ada said, her tone weary. “I could go quite a long time without any more excitement.”
Though it was no more than he expected, her words stung. “Wouldn’t blame you.”
Without so much as a glance in his direction, she nodded in acknowledgement.
He wasn’t good at chitchat. He was bloody awful at it, really, but the silence ate at him, making his nerves jangle.
Edison cleared his throat. “I’m hoping my automatic butler will be stable enough to perform some basic functions with a high degree of reliability. I could do with a few weeks without interruptions myself.”
There was no response from her side of the cab.
Brick-brained as he was about feelings and such, he had the sense even that innocuous topic had put a poor twist on things.
Nothing for it but to plow ahead. The alternative was painful, icy silence. “Once we get the power regulation correct, your battery’ll make an outstanding power source. I should like to commission one as soon as possible.”
Ada shrugged. She pressed a finger to the glass, tracing a line back and forth across the bottom of the window. “If things progress as intended, Stanton should be able to spare a battery or two. Production was scheduled to begin within the month.”
Edison winced at her flat tone. The happiness—the pure elation of discovery—no longer vibrated in her voice.
With a rustle of silk, she turned toward him. Her expressive mouth was pressed into a flat line as rigid as her shoulders.
It killed him a little, the tightness in her posture. It was as if he could actually see the fragile new skin of cynicism that had grown over her heart.
She gave him a cold smile. “However this… adventure turns out, it’s been quite a journey.”
He wanted to say something profound, something heartfelt and soul-baring, but he couldn’t make the words pass his lips.
He pressed his fists into his thighs. When it came to feelings, he was a craven coward.
A coward who didn’t deserve a lion-hearted woman like Ada.
Better that she run now.
The cab rumbled forward, tilting sharply as Henry took a corner at speed. Ada fell toward him, her knee brushing his. She pulled back as if the contact burned.
Once again, she closed in on herself, like a flower closing up at sun set. “I shall look forward to returning home,” she said stiffly.
“I imagine so.”
“Sooner rather than later.”
“Another day or two, and we’ll have the bastard. No reason you can’t go then.”
“I mean today.”
“It’s too dangerous—"
“I’ll hire protection.” Her hands fisted in her lap, she gave him a hard look. “If you don’t have any recommendations, I’m sure Inspector Burke can suggest some officers who’d welcome the extra income.”
Edison stiffened. “There is no one as good as we are.” No one he’d trust with her life.
“Good enough, I’m sure.”
He tried to tamp down the spurt of anger that made his heart hammer against his ribs. “I don’t leave a job unfinished.”
“It isn’t up to you.”
Edison threw her a look.
“But then you make your own rules, don’t you, Mr. Sweet?” She laughed, an ugly, bitter sound. “How fortunate for you.”
“Fortunate isn’t the word I’d use.”
Ada turned away. “Nor would I.”
That cold, heavy silence filled the coach again. It swirled between them like a winter fog, freezing everything it touched.
And Edison didn’t have the least idea how to thaw it.
“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time,” the words tumbled from his lips, taking him by surprise. “I’ve enjoyed your company.”
Ada’s sad smile jabbed him in the chest, making his breath hitch in his throat. “I was hoping for rather more than enjoyment.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, exactly.” Edison’s mouth worked. Open. Closed. Rather like a fish flopping about on the banks of a creek.
She shrugged. “I know what you meant.” She turned to face him. “Despite what you must think, I’m not completely ignorant. I never expected our… liaison to mean as much to you as it did to me.”
“That’s not what I want you to think.”
A short, sharp laugh tumbled from her lips. “You may control a great deal, but you don’t control my feelings.”
“No, of course not. I—"
The carriage jerked to a stop. The boy had found an open spot at the curb in front of their offices. He climbed down from his box and opened the door.
“We’re not done.” Edison glared at the youth. “Go away.”
Eyes wide, Henry moved to close the door, but Ada stuck her hand out. “You’re mistaken, Mr. Sweet. We’ve said everything that needs to be said. Twice over, at least.” Her dark eyes bored straight into him, daring him to contradict her.
Henry held the door wide, waiting.
Ada slid off the bench and stumbled out of the coach. Once she was on the pavement, she turned back toward him, her gaze distant. “There’s an old saying about rubbing salt into a wound. It’s unnecessary. And cruel.” She slammed the door behind her.
The small space reverberated with the clang of brass against wood. Edison rocked back against the cushions. He watched her follow Henry into the building, his heart curiously numb.
He’d meant to ease their parting bit by bit.
Instead, he’d dumped too much accelerant onto too much flammable material and incinerated the whole blasted thing.
Chapter 23
Ada vibrated with nervous energy as she and Meena waited in the wings for the last of the society’s original speakers finished his stultifying exposition on neutralization reactions.
Meena took a step back, perusing Ada’s outfit one last time. She reached up to adjust the black netting of Ada’s little hat so that it hung just above her eyes. “You’ll be outstanding.”
Ada rocked from heel to toe, unable to keep her legs still. The sharp movements jiggled the ostrich feathers springing from the small black hat Briar had insisted would complete her ensemble.
Damnation, how she wanted to get her lecture over and done with. She peeked out from behind the curtains and immediately wished she hadn’t.
Every seat in the small auditorium was occupied. Behind the last row people stood shoulder to shoulder along the wall, even spilling down the aisles along each side of the room. Men, mostly, though there were more bright gowns sprinkled about the room than she would have expected.