“I told you coming south from Trafalgar Square would be faster.”

Edison’s tone, overflowing with uncalled for satisfaction, nudged Ada from frustration into anger. She glared at her self-proclaimed protector as he tried to wind his way through the tangle of supply wagons, construction barriers and crowds choking the street to the south of Whitehall. He had indeed said that—along with a very long list of other unnecessary directives—as they journeyed toward her meeting with the Director of Naval Construction.

Two days in his company had revealed that Mr. Edison Sweet possessed an extensive list of woulds and coulds and shoulds. Had they not been in such a great hurry, she would have taken the time to kick him in the shin.

He, however, remained blissfully ignorant of her violent intentions. His attention remained on the knotted mass of humanity milling about in front of them, shoving in and around each other like bees frantic to re-enter a hive.

“We’ll have to go around.” Edison cupped her elbow to guide her back the way they had come.

Ada jerked away, causing the very large, very silly hat Briar had insisted she borrow to slide sideways over one ear. She shoved it back in place, wincing as several long hatpins caught in her hair.

They were going to be late.

Ada’s stomach churned. It was her last meeting with Sir Helmsley before she delivered the device to the naval architects at the secret construction site. She wanted to project confidence. And now, because she couldn’t bring herself to follow one more of Edison’s blasted suggestions, she was going to arrive unforgivably late.

She gripped the leather strap of her satchel until her knuckles turned white, and bit her lip, trying to hold back the scream of aggravation that wanted to burst from her lungs. Her goal was only a quarter mile away. A simple stroll from their position, straight down Whitehall almost to Trafalgar Square, sat the old Admiralty. And in it, three or four very important, very impatient men waited in Admiral Helmsley’s elegant office.

And between her and her goal, Whitehall was completely blocked by a gigantic excavation project.

Worry surged through her, making her almost lightheaded. What would be the quickest way around? Right to Downing Street, or left across Richmond Terrace? Each would add precious minutes, especially trying to cut through the lunchtime crowds. Ada tightened her grip on the satchel, and strode purposefully to her right, where the wide base of Whitehall squeezed into a narrow side street, little more than an ancient alley between tall buildings.

"Not that way." Edison grabbed her arm.

Ada tried to shake off his grasp. "Do not tell me what to do."

"See that?" He jutted his chin toward the left side of the alleyway.

With a distinct lack of grace, she glanced in the direction he indicated. A great collection of men, men in suit coats, workers in shirtsleeves, and the odd uniformed officer all funneled down the lane, pressing shoulder to shoulder through its small space. They looked like a great stream of molasses, oozing slowly—far too slowly—into the narrow opening.

“Too easy to be trapped there." He was standing tall, head constantly turning, as he surveyed the chaos. “It’s what I’d do if I were after you. Perfect place for an abduction.”

“There is no one after me.”

“How would you know? Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

Ada balled her hands into fists. His logic was dizzying.

The clock in her head was ticking. Loudly. She pictured the Admiral, his secretary, his secretary’s secretary, and so on. Their expressions would be shifting now, changing from polite concern at her absence to irritation.

She tried to unclench her jaw enough to speak. “If I’ve not made it clear before, this meeting is vastly important.”

“Indeed you have. Numerous times.” Edison loosened his grip, but his attention remained on the scene around them. "They can damn well wait. We will be there as quickly as we can."

“Wait?” Ada finally succeeded in pulling out of his grasp. Anger shoved her a few steps back. "These men are of the highest levels of the Admiralty. They do not wait!"

A rising sense of panic made her jittery, made her vision jerk and dance in the most disconcerting manner. She was dimly aware that her breath was coming harder, faster. They couldn't move forward, and now he'd cut off yet another route.

He might have shrugged. It was hard to tell as they were being jostled from all sides now by the surging crowd. “We could not have anticipated this mess. They’ll understand. It's not like they're going to offer less for the device because they've been inconvenienced."

"This isn't about money." She stared up at him as his as if he was the stupidest thing she'd ever seen.

Her anger seemed to have no effect on him. He simply waited. Waited for her to attack him. Waited for her to calm down. Waited for her to make the next move.

Frustration and anger and worry melded into a lump in her chest so painful she couldn’t think, couldn’t find the words to make him understand.

She strode back and forth in front of him, moving so quickly, so stiffly, her skirts flared up about her ankles. Finally, having worn out a bit of her anger, she stopped straight in front of him, hands planted on her hips. "It's about respect, Mr. Sweet. Respect for my scientific skills, my mind, my inventiveness."

She shoved Briar’s hat back out of her eyes. “No matter how innovative my work, you do realize I have a greater chance of seeing a mermaid, than addressing the Royal College.” She turned away, not wanting him to see the angry tears that were welling up. “This is my one chance to be recognized, to be treated as a real scientist.”

When she trusted that no tears would fall, she gave him a quick glance. It didn’t appear he’d even heard her. His attention was on the surrounding crowd. She could almost see the calculations running through his brain as he assessed each exit point.

When he turned back toward her, his eyes were hard and focused. "How’s your play acting?"

"My… What?"

"I need you to faint."

Confused, Ada could only blink up at him.

"Faint." His voice held a sharp edge of impatience. "You've seen it done, have you not? I'm going to get us past that barrier.” He snatched her hand, and pulled her toward the side of the street, away from the crowds. "I need you to wilt in my arms."

"But—" Ada tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Things were getting further out of control by the second. “Where is this leading exactly?”

Edison leaned a shoulder against the brick wall and waited. “Tick tock, Mrs. Templeton."

“Fine.” She drooped against him and let her eyelids flutter closed.

He scooped her up into his arms with disconcerting ease, nestling her against his chest. “Relax your limbs.” He shook her gently. “You’re overcome, not dead.”

The brim of Briar’s outsized hat flapped against her face, and her arms and legs swung disconcertingly through the air. It was all she could do to keep her eyes closed and her face devoid of tension as he strode across the square. "Pardon me. Excuse me." His deep voice vibrated through her as he squeezed his way through the crowd.

"Can't come through here, sir." An officious young voice halted them.

The sounds of construction were louder now, bricks being tossed into piles, shovels and pneumatic drills slamming into the earth. Ada tried not to smile as she realized his plan.

"It's my wife.” Edison had a convincing edge of worry in his voice. “She fainted. If I could just get through.”

“Can’t allow it. Too dangerous. There’s a bench there, out of the sun. You can rest there. I’m sure one of the other ladies passing by will have smelling—”

“What’s your name, son?” Edison allowed a hint of intimidation into his tone. “I want to be able to tell Admiral Helmsley just who required his niece to lie unattended in the street.”

“W-which admiral did ya say again?”

“Good lord, Mason, the man's got a fair load there. Let them by." Another, more authoritative vote for voice overode the younger man. “May we help, sir?”

“I’ve got her. Happens all too frequently now that she’s increasing.”

Ada gasped. Her face burned at his insinuation.

“Steady on,” he whispered.

She couldn’t be sure, but his voice seemed to carry an undertone of laughter.

Edison shifted her in his arms, as if he were tiring. Which she wouldn't have blamed him for in the least. She was a full grown woman. But the minute he maneuvered around the construction barrier, his grip solidified again.

Not many could have carried her so far without the slightest fear she’d be dumped on her bum.

It wasn't a moment later that he turned sharply to the side and allowed her legs to swing down to the ground. "That should do it. We're almost there."

His timing was exquisite. Any longer in his arms, and she thought she might never be able to throw off the fog of desire enveloping her. The hard muscles, the heat, the soap-scented skin generated an odd form of energy inside her. A pulsing, insistent energy that erased her anxiety and her anger, replacing it with an urgent, languid feeling.

Even though she knew full well she couldn’t afford the time, she had to dissipate the sensual fog. She straightened her hat, tugged down her sleeves, and gave the bodice of her gown a stiff pull.

Her efforts might have improved her appearance, but they did little to alter the web of desire he’d wrapped her in. And he, meanwhile, appeared blissfully unmoved by the thrill of holding her in his arms.

Damnably unfair, that.

She stalked after him as he strode back out on to the main thoroughfare. The empty thoroughfare. With its south entrance at Parliament Square blocked, the only pedestrian traffic on Whitehall proper, came from Trafalgar Square. Even the sun seemed brighter on this side of the barricade as it reflected off of the many marble façades lining the wide square.

But she was still late.

With any luck, the men were entertaining each other over tea.

Or so she prayed.

While her anxiety was a bit lower, the entire ordeal had left her damp and ruffled. Not at all the impression she'd been hoping to present.

Practically running now, they made it to the main doors of the Old Admiralty in an instant. The only casualty was the fashionable cluster of crab apples atop of her borrowed hat.

She hoped Briar wouldn’t mind too much.

As they approached the two seamen guarding the doorway, she yanked the hat pins from the crown, and carefully removed the hat, hoping her hairstyle had fared better than her chapeau. Moving with military precision, the two men pulled the wide doors open.

Her brain screamed at her to hurry, but she slowed, taking a deep calming breath. They were already late. Rushing in flushed and flustered would only add to the issue.

She glanced at Edison. Despite running, despite carrying her across a crowded square, he appeared fresh and tidy as if his only exertion to date had been climbing into a private carriage.

How did he do it? She was certain she looked as if she’d been in a foot race. Sweat trickled unpleasantly down her back and beaded at her hairline.

She felt as if she looked like an overcooked tomato.

“Mrs. Templeton.” A slender officer crossed the lobby toward them. “I’m to take you to the admiral.” Without waiting for a response, the man executed a smart about face, and strode off across the polished marble.

Ada hurried after him, the wide brim of her hat fluttering against her skirts.

Edison matched her pace easily. "Don't worry about being late,” he said, his voice low enough only she could hear. “I’ve got a plan.”

"That won't be necessary." It was her meeting, her career, her reputation. She’d fix this herself. "I'm sure the admiral will forgive our tardiness."

“I agree with what you said about your reputation. It’s worth protecting.”

“Not necessary,” she whispered. Their escort had long legs and a quick stride. Breath was becoming a precious commodity.

“It may not be necessary, but it’s the least I can do.”

Before she could insist he drop the issue, he sped up until he was shoulder to shoulder with the officer.

Ada stopped in the middle of the hallway. The next time she found herself wishing she had a companion, someone to help shoulder the burdens of daily life, she’d remember moments like this.

Moments when a man—despite all evidence to the contrary—insisted on running her life as if it were a train devoid of an engineer.

* * *

By the time Ada’s meeting concluded, Edison's estimation of her had grown immensely. He’d concluded she had a formidable mind the instant they met, but he hadn't imagined she had the social sensibilities to charm a room like that.

With one notable exception, she’d impressed them all.

"I'm well pleased with this." Admiral Helmsley tapped a thick finger on Ada’s notes. "I'm sure the testing will come right along. I'll send our men to deliver you in two days. They have a list of everything you need?"

Ada nodded. "They should do. I sent it along weeks ago."

"Excellent."

The officer turned toward Ada’s old friend, Stanton Grenville. Apart from owning a chemical factory, this Grenville appeared to know Ada exceedingly well. Were the man not as round as he was tall, and old as Methuselah, Edison might have been more put out by his overt familiarity.

"Appreciate your joining us, Grenville.” The admiral addressed Ada’s friend. "Once she and our lot get the kinks worked out, should be a quick process for you to start manufacturing, eh?”

The heavy man coughed and nodded his head. "Absolutely, sir. Mrs. Templeton and I have had many conversations about the process. Grenville Chemical will be ready to go the minute you give the word."

"Splendid." The old navy man rose slowly to his feet, signaling an end to the meeting. “Any other questions, Captain Ravensworth?” He addressed a dour officer with a thin gray mustache who'd done nothing but glower at Ada from the edges of the room.

Not just glower. His every comment, every question, had been designed to make her look foolish.

"Only a caution, sir. Despite Mrs. Templeton's obvious… enthusiasm, she is a woman, after all, with a woman's delicate sensibilities." Though he addressed the admiral, Ada received the full weight of his gaze. "It would be prudent to have an alternate plan in place, should Mrs. Templeton’s nerves prove unequal to the strain."

Edison didn't have to see her to know that it was taking every ounce of restraint Ada had not to launch herself at the puffed up stoat. He knew it because his own chest swelled with the same seething anger.

Across the room, her old friend coughed loudly. The worried glance he sent Ada suggested he had the same concerns.

But Ada shook off the insults as she had every other attempt the man made to trip her up. Though her back and shoulders stiffened to stone, she sent her old friend a reassuring grin.

Edison couldn't help himself. He just couldn't. He stepped closer to the skinny captain, using his size to intimidate. “Your ability to recognize superior talent seems oddly lacking. Rather surprising in a navy man.”

The man's mouth gaped open very much like that of a cod. No, not a cod. Cods—as far as Edison knew—had spines.

He knew there were men that held women in disdain, but he rarely encountered them in his own life. Were a man foolish enough to treat Briar or Meena so shabbily, they’d find themselves out in the street, wondering what had hit them. Let alone Mrs. Hapgood. Mrs. H would’ve cut this Ravensworth off at the knees half an hour ago.

But Ada moved in more ordinary circles. It seemed she had no choice but to deal with these sorts of blowhards on a frequent basis.

No wonder she was overly sensitive to his own suggestions.

"Fine then, we’ll press on." The admiral stepped around his desk to take Ada’s hands in his. "Thank you, Mrs. Templeton, for your service. Your discovery will put us far ahead of our enemies.”

Then he turned to Edison and grinned, much like a small boy. "Quite an adventure you had on the way here." He shook his head in wonder. "Tigers milling about in Covent Garden. Just imagine. I'm relieved Mrs. Templeton was accompanied by such a clearheaded gent. No telling what could have happened."

Edison tried to appear modest. “To be fair, there were only the two, and they did appear rather tame. Just our luck, they'd already had their morning feeding. More a matter of behaving with common sense, really. Stand quietly and let the beasts roam. The magician’s crew rounded them up as quickly as one could have expected.”

The admiral planted his hands on his hips, making the large collection of metals on his uniform swing gently from side to side. "Would have given a nice bit of coin to see that commotion."

“And who wouldn’t? It was quite a sight.” He nudged Ada, urging her to chime in.

She glared up at the ceiling. “A most unreal experience. Hard to believe it even occurred.”

* * *

“Is it a capital offense, do you think? Lying to an admiral?” Ada asked as they hurried out of the man’s office.

“Definitely not.” Edison paused for the seamen to open the doors to the street, then steered her out into the sunlight. “Only lying to the Sovereign.”

Ada let him guide her out onto the pavement before she stopped and planted her fists on her hips. “You told the highest ranking officer in Her Majesty’s Navy that we wrangled a stray tiger on our way to the meeting!”

“Made him forget that we kept him waiting for twenty minutes, didn’t it?”

“That’s hardly the point.”

“It’s exactly the point.”

She looked at him blankly.

“You don’t confabulate often, do you?” He stepped back and flung his arms wide. “You have to make it large. Construct the most outlandish image you can and believe in it. That’s the secret.”

Ada pursed her lips as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “I don’t expect to have a need for that particular skill, thank you.”

Edison shrugged. If she was very lucky. In his experience, luck ran out.

No need to force the issue now though. She deserved to enjoy her success. She’d have a lot more of that coming as more open-minded, more intelligent men, began to appreciate her brilliance.

He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and toed at the ground. He’d suspected Ada Templeton was far out of his league, but now he knew it.

“That went well, in there,” he said, still not meeting her eyes. “You have a great command of your material. Inspires confidence.”

“Thank you. Your tiger did help, although I hesitate to admit it.”

“It did, didn’t it?” He took her arm, and they strolled back toward the far end of the palace. “You handled that tick Ravensworth masterfully. I admire your restraint.”

Ada waved away his compliment. “He’s nothing. An unpleasant fellow to be sure, but he’s got the brains of a gnat.” She sighed. “He’s far from the worst of the lot.”

“Still. I admire the way you rose above his petty needling.”

Ada gasped. “Well that utterly tears it.”

Edison froze. What had he done now?

Ada was staring off over his left shoulder. A formidable frown creased her face. “Keep walking.” She tugged on his arm. “Pretend you don’t see him.”

“See who?” Edison checked the area, senses on full alert.

“Don’t look!”

“Who am I not looking at?”

“The worst of the lot.” She cocked her head to the left, indicating a narrow-shouldered fop in a fashionable sackcoat. “Spottswood. He’s mean and small-minded and unforgivably dense.”

“Mrs. Templeton!” The man, led by a set of over-sized mutton chops, veered straight for them.

Ada stiffened. She wrapped both hands around the handles of her satchel. Were it not filled with her precious notes, Edison bet she would have used it to whack the man straight in the face.

Edison didn’t even know him, and he already wanted to give him a good thrashing.

The elegant man executed a small bow. “Good afternoon.” Light eyes sparkled maliciously as he examined the both of them.

“Lord Spottswood.” Ada attempted to fashion the semblance of a smile. She was not, he had to note, very good at it.

“Sweet. Edison Sweet.” He answered the man’s unspoken query. “I’m Mrs. Templeton’s… solicitor.”

Pressure built on the last two toes of his foot. The minx was stepping on him. Edison slid his boot out of harm’s way and ignored her. “In addition to being an accomplished chemist, her business interests are quite complicated.”

“I can only imagine.” Slender, un-calloused fingers gripped a useless-looking excuse for a cane. The man spread his legs wide, rocking back on his heels as if he had all the time in the world to chat. “What brings you to Whitehall? I wasn’t aware there were any lectures at the academy today.” His gaze flicked over Ada’s skirts, his mouth pursing with distaste, as if she were covered in grim. “Any that ladies would be welcome to attend, I mean. It’s rare we have lecturers willing to accommodate those of lesser abilities.” Edison resisted the urge to ball his hands into fists and settled for imagining how gratifying it would feel to flatten the weasel’s delicate nose. Though the man’s query sounded casual, Edison noted the tension in the shoulders, the rigidity of the muscles around the lips.

Spottswood knew Ada had been at the Admiralty. Probably knew exactly why.

Edison’s heart raced. His muscles tingled with added energy, preparing for action. He moved as close to her as was publicly decent.

His instincts were rarely wrong. The man was toying with her.

Ada gave Edison an odd little sideways glance. “I can’t believe you weren’t told.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Told what?”

“How unfortunate no one got word to you.” Ada shook her head sorrowfully. “Mr. Joseph Swan just gave a small talk—a rather exclusive talk—at Admiral Helmsley’s invitation.” She widened her eyes as if astonished. “I cannot believe you were overlooked.”

Her lie pushed him back on his heels. He took a step back and gaped at her. “That’s impossible. I would have known.”

Ada looked thoughtful, or maybe she was trying not to laugh. “Perhaps it was only for working scientists. You theoreticians are so often ignored, are you not? Quite unjust, if you ask me.”

Where the man’s expression not so full of suppressed rage, Edison would have laughed. Her setdown was elegant and spot-on. As it was, he was beginning to worry that she was playing with fire.

The man’s building anger went far beyond that of a typical male threatened by a female far more intelligent than himself. As a peer, he had money and power and access to the sorts of unpleasant characters eager to break bones for a bit of coin.

Like the dark figure that just broke off from a group of clerks strolling down the pavement. Something about the figure’s movements—too quick, too much tension—didn’t match those of a man out for a bit of noontime sun.

The man hurried around the corner and out of sight, which concerned him even more.

“We should go.” He nudged Ada with a discreet elbow. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Spottswood.”

“Lord,” the man corrected with a sneer. “It’s Lord Spottswood.”

Edison touched his forelock. “Great scot. I’m a simpleton. Apologies, my lord.”

The man sent him a scathing glare and stalked off, his cane slashing at imaginary foes.

“Far worse indeed.” Edison turned to Ada. “I knew we men could be thickheaded sots, but I had no idea the fools you have to suffer.”

She gave him a wan smile. “It does wear on one at times.”

Spottswood was already almost to the Old Admiralty building. Edison watched until he disappeared inside. Distance did nothing to ease his concern.

The open spaces fronting Whitehall’s distinguished landmarks suddenly felt too exposed for his liking.

“This meeting was far too coincidental.” No longer concerned with hiding his interest, Edison peered at every figure, every shadow in the vicinity, searching for the mysterious figure. “Spottswood has the means and the motivation to seek your device.”

Ada turned her back on the Admiralty. “He’s jealous. The only thing he’s managed to invent is an automatic stamp licker. Reports are it doesn’t even work as advertised.”

“Jealousy’s a powerful motivator. All the more so when mixed with hate.” He studied the surrounding area, searching for the dark figure. Spottswood could have been setting them up, delaying them until his men could get into position.

Ada stared back at the Admiralty.“He hates me, doesn’t he?”

“Small minded men hate any woman who challenges their superiority.”

“Hmmm. That does put things in a better light. I’m much happier being disdained on general principle.” Ada touched his sleeve. “Thank you for—”

Edison raised his palm, silencing her.

There it was again, a dark-jacketed figure slipping out of sight behind a marble column.

An irritated growl escaped her parted lips. “You were saying? Something about cabbage-headed men?”

“We need to get out of here.” He waved at her to follow him. “We’ll stay to the center of the pavement until we get to Trafalgar Square. There’ll be an omnibus along soon.”

Ada stuffed the silly hat onto her head with an angry gesture. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He glanced behind them, needing to locate their pursuer.

“Were we not just this second discussing the lamentable tendency for men to run roughshod over—”

“We’re being followed.” Edison put a hand to the small of her back, urging her onward. “You can insult me later.”

Back straight, wide brim of her hat quivering, Ada surged forward fast enough to evade his touch. “Be assured, I shall take you up on that offer, Mr. Sweet.”