All here to gawk at the oddity.
Ada jerked back into the safety of the shadows. She hated public speaking, hated the pressure to appear both knowledgeable and scintillating. More than anything, she hated the smirks and sneers and outright guffaws of men too insecure to believe a woman might have something of value to offer.
Having to fumble her way through an impromptu address while keeping one eye out for a killer didn’t help.
Not that she felt unsafe.
Quite the contrary. Edison’s league had every inch of the place under surveillance. She trusted them to keep her safe. Still, to be onstage. Exposed. She might as well be waiting for a large bucket of cold water to cascade over her. She knew it was coming, knew it would chill her to the bone, knew it would make her heart pound and her breath catch.
If they could just get on with it.
Meena frowned up at the top of her head. “The hat isn’t too distracting, is it? It’s quite smart, but if it’s uncomfortable, we can—”
“It’s fine.” Ada put a hand on the brim of the daring little piece. “Unless you don’t think it suits?”
“I quite like it. The netting gives you an aura of mystery.”
A laugh bubbled up in Ada’s throat, catching her by surprise, but the levity dissolved faster than bicarbonate bubbles in vinegar, leaving a leaden sadness behind.
Meena squeezed her arm. “This’ll be over soon.”
Even though she knew he was backstage completing alterations to his automaton, Ada couldn’t help scanning the audience for Edison’s familiar silhouette. She was trying to keep her mind on chemical interactions and hidden killers, but every few seconds a needle of pain jabbed her in the heart.
Meena sighed, a long, weighty sound. “We all know my cousin’s a porridge-brained imbecile, but I do think the sentiment bears repeating. I’m just sorry he wasn’t brave enough to hold onto a good thing when it came his way.”
Ada shook her head. “We’re not a good fit, the two of us.”
Meena snorted. She straightened the edges of Ada’s high collar. “Who wants a good fit? All that harmonizing and agreeing? Ugh. One wants sparks. Chemistry. The two of you had plenty of that.”
“Too much.”
“I used to feel the same about Spencer.” She stepped back, surveying her handiwork. Her smile was sad. “You’re an extraordinary woman. I should’ve liked to get to know you better.”
Ada agreed wholeheartedly. Meena and Briar were electrifying. Inspiring. She wouldn’t run across their kind again.
“This should do.” Edison barreled up, the gangly automatic butler in his arms. He set the automaton gently on the boards. Its spindly brass arms tinkled against it’s drum-like body.
Watching his broad shoulders move beneath his woolen jacket made her think of the power in his arms, his muscled torso, his hands. His clever, clever hands. A sharp stone swelled in her throat, making tears fill her eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand and ground her teeth together.
Not now. She couldn’t turn into a stupid old watering pot now. She blinked hard, trying to focus on his instructions.
“The switch is here.” He showed Meena the small lever at the base of the conical body. “Simply flip it on.” He paused to activate the device.
With a smooth whir of well-oiled gearing, the rotund little metal man lurched forward, his silly jointed arms rising up from the center of his body as he wheeled off in a straight line.
Two steps and Edison corralled the machine, bending low to switch it off.
“Just point him straight at Ada and he’ll wheel himself across the stage to her.”
Meena shook her head in wonder. “Well done.”
“Yes.” Ada felt compelled to add her praise, although she’d just as soon avoid any further contact with him. Even the sound of his voice hurt, the way a careless brush against bruised flesh throbbed.
Meena scooted the machine off toward the very edge of the stage.
“Are you all right?” Edison’s question hung in the air between them.
Ada nodded decisively, not trusting her voice. She feigned great interest in the dull man still emoting onstage. From the way his thick fingers gripped the edges of the lectern, she didn’t think they’d be prying him away anytime soon.
“Ada, I…” Edison’s voice trailed off toward the ceiling several stories above.
She should respond. She should take the olive branch. But it wouldn’t help.
They simply didn’t suit.
She gripped the thick velvet curtains between her fingers, rubbing her thumb over the soothing nap of the fabric, trying to pretend that the sound of his voice, the heat from his body, wasn’t urging her straight into his arms.
The instant he moved off, she knew it. It wasn’t a sound, not a scrape of shoe leather or a whisper of cloth that marked his leaving.
Just an aching emptiness.
*
“I understand we have a most… unusual speaker coming next,” the old windbag onstage announced. “If I might—in closing—quote the great Samuel Johnson.”
“Good God,” Sir Beauford muttered from his seat behind the podium. He pressed a hand to his forehead, as if he could hide from what was coming.
“Oh, no,” Ada murmured. She could only pray that neither Meena nor Briar would storm the stage and throttle the man.
“A woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hind legs,” he said, his voice heavy with laughter. “It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all.”
The swell of applause that greeted his remarks didn’t bode well for her presentation. But when did it ever? She tried to take a deep breath, but that only succeeded in making her stomach roil.
She drummed her fingers on the top of Edison’s automaton. The hostility of the crowd had long ceased to bother her. It was the infernal waiting that ate at her. Waiting to take her turn at the podium. Waiting for her bruised heart to scar over. Waiting for a killer to strike. The frustration ratcheted her nerves tighter and tighter until she thought something inside her might break.
Ada tapped her foot. Really, if the ancient old codger didn’t cease rambling, she might hook him with Meena’s parasol and drag him off the stage herself. Her fingers pounded down on the automaton, setting up a pleasing rain of sound.
Just as the speaker flung her a pointed look, Meena’s hand came down atop hers, silencing the rainfall. “Sorry,” Ada whispered stiffly, although she wasn’t. Not in the least.
“I’d like to teach him a thing or two about women’s capabilities,” Meena whispered.
Ada chuckled. “It would be a lost cause, but I’d love to watch.”
Finally, his so-called expertise exhausted, the man trundled off the stage to a swell of genteel applause.