Wind gusted through the streets, whipping open coats, fluttering hems, and sending the last dead husks of leaves skittering into doorways and curbs.

By the time the hansom pulled to a stop in front of a smart-looking townhouse, Ada was thoroughly homesick.

The homes lining both sides of the lane managed to appear both elegant and unconcerned with their presentation. Newer and smaller than the mansions in her own neighborhood, they sparkled with sophistication. She imagined them filled with young socialites thrilled to live just blocks from the beating heart of the city. Theaters and cafes surrounded the area, lending it a hint of the bohemian.

They left her missing the stolid granite facade of her own home. She missed the quiet. She missed Grandmama’s confused rants. She even missed Haversham’s simmering disapproval.

She missed her life, the whole of it.

Ada sighed and heaved herself out of the cab after Edison. He had bounded up the stairs of the nearest house before she tackled the first step.

He gave the door a hearty rap. “We’re here to see Miss Parvenue,” he announced to the sleepy-eyed parlor maid who answered.

The maid motioned them in. Though the space was small compared to her own over-large home, the entry was designed to impress. Gilt wallpaper, gilt-edged coat racks and end tables topped with gilt-accented vases, and landscapes nestled in gilt frames, crowded in on her.

What wasn’t covered in gold was upholstered in large, dramatic patterns.

The room should have felt oppressive. Instead, it exuded a curious warmth and a strong sensual energy.

It was the gold.

Not having much interest in decorating, Ada would never have considered the effect so much precious metal could create.

The maid bobbed a curtsey. “I’ll see if she’s receiving.”

“Tell her it’s—”

“Sweet! You dog. It’s been too long.” A vision in white lace floated down the staircase.

A vision in her night clothes.

Ada gaped. Feet bare and golden hair tousled from sleep, the woman hurried toward them clad only in a sheer nightrail. A filmy white robe as revealing as the shift itself fluttered uselessly behind her as she rushed toward them.

Without a word, the woman launched herself off of the bottom step into Edison’s arms.

He grunted as she slammed into his chest. Every ounce of his attention focussed on this vision, he grinned and twirled her about. “Cherise. I’ve missed you.”

“Have not,” the beauty retorted, her ripe lips entirely too close to his.

He laughed. “Only as much as you missed me.”

“Fair enough, you brute.” The woman laughed as well, tipping her head back, baring her white throat.

Watching their intimate byplay, Ada felt as if she’d vanished into the flamboyant wallpaper.

Edison let the woman slide down his body until her naked feet touched the floor. “I need a favor.”

“Oh?” One delicate brow arched. She looked between them, curiosity glinting in her pretty eyes.

Edison set his hands on his hips. “Mrs. Templeton is in a… situation.”

Ada rolled her eyes. One might call it that, if one were given to the extreme opposite of exaggeration.

She clasped her hands together. “Someone attempted to kill me.”

“That’s quite a situation.” The woman showed far less surprise than Ada would have expected.

“Hence the need for a disguise,” Edison said. “I was hoping you might have something at the theater that would do. Something an invisible type of woman would wear.” He stopped, searching for words. “A housekeeper or a governess, something of that nature.”

Miss Parvenue’s Parisienne perfume drifted about the entryway as she circled Ada. “She already looks like a governess.” The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry, luv.”

Ada shrugged. It was nothing but the truth. The dove gray walking dress had seemed an excellent choice for travel and for working at the Navy’s secret workshop, but now that she was faced with this beautiful creature in her frothy, frilly night clothes in her frothy, frilly home, Ada felt distinctly drab.

The woman wrapped her robe around herself and tied the sash, then she stood back, assessing Ada as if she were a painting one might consider purchasing, if only it came with a nicer frame. “If it’s invisible you want, only the demimonde’ll do.”

Edison snorted. “I’m hoping to hide her, not set every dog in the village after her scent.”

Miss Parvenue eyed him as if he had the brains of tinned beef. “Who looks at women like me?” She brushed her hair back off her shoulders. “Upstanding women pass us as if we don’t exist, and men…” She threw up her hands. “Men are not interested in our faces.”

Brow furrowed, Edison tapped a finger against his lips and studied Ada, his gaze rake her from head to toe.

Ada clenched her fists. Being gawked at as if she were a prize sheep at auction was beginning to wear.

“Can you do it?” he asked finally.

Ada didn’t care for the doubt in his tone.

Edison’s friend winked at her. “She’s got the goods. Just needs a bit of fancy. A bit of daring.”

Ada cringed. Fancy, she might be able to fake, but not daring. She opened her mouth to protest, but Edison’s look stopped her. She sucked in a deep breath. She promised. Whatever he said.

She huffed. “Fine.”

Miss Parvenue bounced up and down on her bare toes and clapped her hands. “Come on then.” She grabbed Ada by the arm. “We’ve got some work ahead of us.”

As she pulled Ada toward the stairs, Edison turned to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Ada froze. “Where are you going?”

“Need to send a telegram. Time to bring the league in on this.”

“But—” Ada started to protest.

“Your grandmother’ll be safe with the Hapgoods.” He grabbed his hat and left.

“Come on then.” Miss Parvenue led the way up the stairs. “Annabelle?” she called out to the maid, “draw a bath.”

“I’m Cherise,” she offered as she tugged Ada up the stairs.

“Ada,” she responded, her attention on the lush paintings lining the stairwell.

“A strong name,” Cherise observed. “I like it. Come on, Ada, we’ve a great deal to do.”

Ada followed her up the stairs like a dowdy old pigeon waddling after a proud swan. Even in her delicate night clothes, the woman’s confidence, her comfort in her own skin, showed through.

A comfort—a confidence—Ada was painfully aware she didn’t possess.

A few bits of satin couldn’t create miracles.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d end up looking more like a sow’s ear than a silk purse.

* * *

Cherise’s boudoir was a vision out of a scandalous novel.

Tall posts edged in gilt and topped by an imposing silk canopy, towered above the bed, which held center stage. Piled high with downy quilts and an overabundance of feather pillows, it seemed poised for the next scandalous performance.

The artwork covering the walls sent the whole vision over the top. Naked women stared at her from every direction. Naked women lounging about on plump pillows. Naked women frolicking in forest glades. Naked women… oh, goodness.

Ada put a hand to her throat. Cheeks burning, she tore her gaze away from the randy scenes.

Much better to focus on the beaten copper tub tucked into the opposite corner of the room. Cherise must have been readying her toilette, as the maid was already pouring buckets of steaming water into the tub.

The whole room smelled of Cherise’s sensual perfume.

Like the decor, the combination of patchouli and jasmine suggested a rich, languid sensuality.

“In you go.” Cherise pointed at the half-full tub.

Ada stared down at the white bubbles. “There’s no need to go to such trouble.”

“I’m an actress, luv.” She held Ada’s gaze, her kohl-rimmed eyes bright and expressive. “The first lesson is to get into character.” She waved a hand at the bath. “From the ground up.”

The maid, Annabelle, stood shoulder to shoulder with her mistress, forming a wall of female determination Ada knew she couldn’t budge. She sighed and began undoing the tiny buttons that ran from neck to waist.

Once she’d slipped out of her dress, Annabelle had her bustle and petticoats off in a trice. Heavy with whalebone, her corset slapped down on top of the undergarments.

It took Ada a moment to get up the courage to remove her shift. She’d never thought herself unduly modest, but she’d never undressed in front of an audience before, either.

“Here you go.” Cherise held up a linen towel between them.

Ada sent her a grateful smile and shrugged out of her shift. She pressed the towel to her, holding the top above her breasts and scurried over to the tub.

Hot and lilac-scented, the water was divine. Ada groaned and slid under the bubbles.

Cherise perched on the edge of the tub. “Nothing in the world a hot bath won’t fix, is there?”

Ada grinned. “Thank you.”

“Haven’t done anything yet.” Cherise jumped up. “I’ve got a few items that’ll do the trick.”

While Ada soaked, the actress flung open a wardrobe and began tossing bright heaps of fabric onto the bed.

Just as Ada’s skin was growing rosy from the heat, Annabelle held out a bottle of hair wash. “If you lean forward, I’ll soap up your hair,” the girl offered.

All too soon, Ada was cleaned and scrubbed and wrapped in one of Cherise’s satin dressing gowns. She eyed the mountain of dresses on the bed, a protest already forming on her lips.

“One gown should do,” she said. “I still have my trunks. I have plenty of clothes to see me through until I can return home.”

Cherise’s gaze flickered over Ada’s gray gown. “Not the kinds of gowns a kept woman wears.”

“A kept—”

“Edison wants a transformation.” Cherise considered. “You look like a prosperous woman. A smart woman who can’t be bothered to cart about after a man.”

“I do?”

“You do.” Cherise smiled at her. “That’s a good thing.”

It didn’t feel like a good thing. Ada slumped down on the bed.

Movement above caught her eye. She stared up… at her self. Tucked into the upholstered canopy, a mirror ran the entire of the bed. Ada’s mouth hung open. Every wrinkle in the expensive counterpane, every glint of gold threat was reflected in the ceiling.

Every inch of naked flesh, every gasp, every sigh, every moan would be visible to the couple thrashing about below.

Had Edison made love here, where his lover would be able to watch his powerful muscles flex as he moved over her?

Ada’s cheeks flamed. She stared down at her hands.

Cherise laughed. “Men are silly creatures, aren’t they? Like to be center stage, most of them.”

She sank down on the bed until they were shoulder to shoulder and patted Ada on the knee. “You’re the strong kind of woman who doesn’t need a man’s power or his money.” She studied Ada’s gray dress, now folded neatly over the back of a chair. “We need you to appear the opposite.”

Cherise’s grin turned the slightest bit wicked. “You, Mrs. Templeton, are going to become a kept woman.”

Ada tried to swallow, but her throat had dried up. “I’m not very good at being any kind of woman.”

Cherise laughed. “Good enough to get Edison Sweet lathered up.”

“What?” Ada’s voice rose in surprise. “No! He’s only taken on my case because…” She paused. Why had he agreed to help her exactly?

Cherise slid off the bed and began lifting up dresses. “I’ve no idea why he took on your case, but I do know that look in his eye.” She held out a deep blue confection covered in lace and ruffles, checking it against Ada’s skin. “He looks at you like a meal he wants to devour.”

Ada had no response to that pronouncement, although a small, secret place in her heart hoped Cherise was right.

That a man like Edison, a danger-seeking, risk-taking man of action could see anything attractive about her intrigued her more than she was willing to admit.

Ada stepped into the airy pantaloons and petticoats Annabelle held out, then raised her arms, allowing the maid to fasten her into a beautifully embroidered corset.

Only then did she step into the cloud of blue satin Cherise had chosen.

The image in the mirror above the vanity took her breath away. Cut wide over the shoulders, and low enough in front to expose the tops of her breasts, the dress set off her complexion to perfection. Even to her own eye, she looked radiant.

Sensual.

The slight currents of air stirred up by their movements brushed over her skin like featherlight caresses, reminding her she was all but naked. She wasn’t daring enough to wear this gown downstairs, let alone out in public.

The first time a man eyed that expanse of bare chest, embarrassment would melt her into a puddle.

Cherise stood behind her, grinning. “Now you look like a woman worth paying for.” She pressed Ada down onto the stool. “Except for the hair.”

By the time Cherise and Annabelle had brushed and teased and wound her hair up into some sort of towering concoction, Ada was beginning to feel less self-conscious. The new sensations caused by so much newly bared skin were fading.

A little.

“I believe we’re ready for your debut, Mrs. Templeton.” Cherise stepped away from the mirror so Ada could see herself.

She gasped.

The sensual creature looking back at her had no resemblance to Ada Templeton, chemical scientist.

This new woman would draw male attention like flowers beckoned bees.

Ada drew in a long, deep breath. She couldn’t help noticing how the movement made her breasts rise higher, pressing the creamy flesh against the lace edging of the neckline.

Even her eyes glittered, sparkling with a new sort of energy.

This woman had power.

Cherise bent down until they were cheek to cheek in the mirror. “You’re beginning to understand my point. We women have our own special kind of force. Wield it wisely.”

* * *

Newspaper in hand, Edison rushed back into Cherise’s house.

Finally, a string they could tug on.

He took the stairs two at a time, following the sound of laughter up to Cherise’s boudoir. He rapped a knuckle on the closed door and burst in without waiting for a response. The advertisement was their way in. Their quarry had seeded the beginnings of his own trap. Once they got...

Lucifer’s hammock.

His hand slid off the doorknob, every ounce of his attention commandeered by the vision seated at the vanity.

Holy bleeding hell.

He’d expected Cherise would tart her up, but this, this was outright genius.

The dress was perfection. Neither insipid pastel nor somber navy, the rich blue heightened Ada’s complexion, lending her color and vibrance. The towering construction Cherise had made of her dark hair highlighted the intelligent sparkle in her brown eyes.

The lip rouge was a wicked touch. Ada’s lips were kissable when un-enhanced. The light touch of red unearthed untold sensual possibilities.

Those were lips he could savor for a long, long while.

On her own, Ada was a delightful puzzle hidden beneath a boring old wrapping of newsprint. But this, this enhanced her essence the way the right frame set off a magnificent work of art.

Beautiful all on its own, but better for the combination.

The only off note was her scent. The patchouli, heavy and alluring, suited Cherise’s overt sexuality. He much preferred Ada’s innocent violet flavor.

A minor point.

“Well?” Hands on her hips, Cherise whirled around to face him.

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible,” he murmured, still dazed.

Even as the words left his mouth, Edison would have given anything to claw them back. Watching Ada’s response as they hit made him want to bang his head into a wall.

Her girlish grin froze, then shattered, leaving a sickly grimace in its place.

“Oh my blessed Jesus,” Cherise muttered. Her glare could have turned him to ash. “Sweet, a word.” She jabbed a finger at the door. “Now.”

He followed her out onto the landing, leaving Ada slumped in her seat, staring down at her hands.

Cherise pulled the door shut and folded her arms under her considerable bosom. “You stupid oaf, you have all the charm of old fish guts.”

Edison’s mouth worked, but words eluded him. Which was likely not a bad thing, considering.

Cherise paced back and forth in the hallway, her steps short and choppy and uncharacteristically graceless. “You cut her off at the knees. What were you thinking?” She held out a hand, blocking any response. “Nevermind. You need to fix this.”

Edison could only nod.

“For the first time in her life, I’ll wager, that woman feels feminine. She feels alive and beautiful and desirable. And you had to poke a pin in it.”

“I know. I…” He crushed the newspaper in his hand. “It’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I should hope not.”

Cherise’s maid slipped out the door and glared before heading down the stairs.

Edison squeezed his eyes shut. He deserved it, he knew. But how to repair this? He raked a hand through his hair. He could build automatons, construct smoke bombs and flash bombs and secret recorders no bigger than a button. But he didn’t have the sense to think before he spoke.

Cherise shoved him toward the door. “So get back in there and fix it.”

“But what should I—?”

“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. I can only work so much magic.” Cherise flapped her hands at him and stalked off.

Now alone in the hallway, Edison stared at the door. Even through inches of walnut paneling, he could feel Ada’s hurt. Hurt he’d caused her.

The very thought bruised his heart.

It took a great deal of self discipline not to kick the baseboard. What an overstuffed buffoon.

He needed help. Guidance. What would Crane say in a situation like this? The man had always had an inordinately smooth tongue.

If only he could channel Spencer Crane’s essence, his charm. He closed his eyes and prayed for inspiration.

The only answer to his wish was Cherise’s voice floating up from below. “Bloody idiot.”

It was down to him, and his horrid grasp of the fairer sex.

He counted to three and forced himself to open the door. “Ada?”

A wet snuffle came from the bed.

Heedless of her new dress, Ada had flopped backwards on the bed, her knees hinged over the edge of the mattress. Her stockinged feet dangled high above the floor, looking childlike, and strangely vulnerable.

Edison exhaled, as if he’d taken a rounder to the gut. He felt as if he’d trod on a blooming rose, crushing it into the pavement.

If he’d hurt her, Briar would berate him at high volume and hurl deadly sharp objects in his direction until she was spent.

Meena would sling icy looks and cut him to ribbons with her wit.

Then the storm would pass and they’d forgive him.

But they knew he loved them. He might be a great stuffed bear of a man with cotton wool for a heart, but they knew he’d never trod on their feelings with intent or malice.

Ada didn’t know him well enough to realize he was more of a giant baboon than he appeared.

Perhaps he could dissuade her of that impression.

He approached cautiously, on the alert for flying objects, but Ada lay still as a board, arms at her sides. Only the slight shudder in her chest told him she realized he was there.

Though her eyes were closed, tears ran down her temples.

He wanted to hold her. To take away the stinging words, but her rigid posture suggested that wouldn’t be welcome.

So he eased himself onto the bed next to her, careful not to touch, and mirrored her posture, legs hanging off the end of the bed, arms straight at his side, and stared up at the mirror that ran the length of the canopy above.

He’d forgotten how inventive, how uninhibited, Cherise could be.

A bark of laughter bubbled up, but he clamped down on it before it could exit his mouth. Even he knew that would be like throwing kerosine on an open flame.

Ada hadn’t stirred. She didn’t flinch, didn’t inch away. Her eyelids didn’t so much as flutter.

Edison sighed. He stared up at their reflections. “I apologize.”

Nothing.

He cleared his throat. “That was insensitive of me. You look beautiful, so beautiful that words escaped me.”

Eyes still closed, she snorted.

Edison tapped his feet on the ground. “It’s the truth. You are beautiful.”

Still no movement next to him.

“Ada, look at me.”

Another great sigh seemed to press her further into the bed, but her eyes fluttered open.

She met his gaze in the mirror. “This bed is quite wicked.”

Edison’s heart sped up. She’d just given him a sliver of wiggle room. He intended to take it. “It is at that.”

“Have you ever…?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “When I knew Cherise, she wasn’t installed in such grand quarters.”

“So it’s been some time since…?”

“Years.” He smiled at her in the mirror. “I was nothing but a headstrong guttersnipe when we knew each other.”

“And she was the girl everyone wanted.”

The wistful tone in her voice squeezed his heart.

Her gaze still locked with his, Ada wiped away the tracks of her tears, then let her arms flop back to her sides.

Edison tightened his fingers around the paper. The crackle of the pages contracting sounded too loud, too sharp in the quiet room. Now was his chance. She’d left him an opening to say something profound and healing.

He had nothing.

He clenched his jaw.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I must look a fright. Had to be a shock.”

Though her tone was thoroughly reasonable, she still looked so sad, so… bruised.

“I appreciate the effort. I do, but I’m just not this sort of woman.” Ada sighed. “You were only being honest.”

“I was being a horse’s ass.”

“You looked shocked.”

“No!” Edison jerked in denial, shaking the entire bed. Then he forced himself to lay back and caught her gaze again. “I mean, yes… but it was a good kind of shock.”

She snorted. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel desirable. It’s not part of the job.”

Edison slammed his fist down on the mattress. “Part of the job?”

Blasted hell. How could she not see the signs? She’d been heating his blood since the second she charged into her laboratory that night.

He pinned her gaze in the mirror above. “My desire—as you say—is not part of the job. And while that… confection sets off your attributes perfectly, it’s the woman in it I’m interested in. Have been since the beginning.” He smiled gently. “Whether you’re wearing a satin gown or a lab smock, you have my undivided attention, Mrs. Templeton.”

“Thank you for saying that, but it isn’t necessary.” She looked away, clearly trying to shrug off the hurt. “I don’t wish to put you in an awkward position.”

Edison didn’t respond with words. He let his gaze rove over the sensual beauty caught in the glass above—as if he wanted to devour her.

Which, he most assuredly did.

He wanted to kiss her, wanted to slide his hands along the silk stockings that ended—he had cause to know—at mid thigh. And once he had her damp and willing, he wanted to make her his in the only way that really mattered.

She was studying him back, her gaze meeting his in the mirror.

And she was responding to his perusal, to his desire. Her breath quickened. Her lips parted.

“What I wish to do, Mrs. Templeton, is kiss you.” Edison stared straight up into her eyes. “I’d start with your lips. After that, I’d taste your neck. From there, I’d move every so slowly down to your beautiful breasts. At that point, I’d be so filled with desire it would be hard for me not to pin you down and tear that gown straight off your body.” He paused to let his words sink in. “I’m sure you know what comes after that.”

“Oh.” Her gaze moved to the juncture of his thighs, where his member rose against his trousers, making his desire blatantly obvious.

She licked her lips as if eying a delightful pastry. He doubted she was even aware of it.

That was almost his undoing.

“Exactly.” He shifted his hips about, trying to ease the pressure now reaching a painful level in his loins. “Much as I ache to put action to words, now is not the time.”

Ada stiffened as the spell broke. “It certainly is not.”

Edison clasped her hand, threading his fingers between hers and holding tight. “My words may be clumsy, but never mistake them for my true thoughts.”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “This would be an opportune time to share those thoughts, Mr. Sweet.”

Expression solemn, he stared up at her face in the mirror, infusing his look with every ounce of the passion pulsing through him. “You are the most exasperating, the most intriguing, the most ravishing woman I have ever known.”