Edison was late.

Maybe. Possibly. Or not, if one accounted for the horrid traffic on the Waterloo bridge.

Still, it felt like he was late, which amounted to the same thing.

Ada closed the sensation novel Meena had lent her and stared at the curious cupid-rimmed clock in the parlor for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Grunts and thuds loud enough to shake the walls rolled into the room from the entryway. Dressed head to toe in black, Briar paced about the wide space, practicing sword thrusts and intricate fighting moves like some sort of golden-curled oriental assassin.

Meena worked away at her writing desk. The scratch of ink across paper filled the quiet spaces between Briar’s lunges and the ticking of the casement clock.

Her husband had gone to stoke the stove so Nelly could put together a stew.

Though each took care to pretend indifference, Ada had been around Edison’s family long enough to sense their concern.

She traced the gilt script on the cover of the book. Before worry began nibbling away at her attention, she’d actually been enjoying the outsized escapades of the author’s eccentric cast of characters.

How was it she’d never felt the vicarious enjoyment of rooting for the plucky heroine? Or delighted in a shiver of fear over the villain’s evil scheme to ruin her?

The few times she’d picked up a novel, the small details that didn’t fit had niggled so, she’d overlooked an entire world of enjoyment. After all, the average reader would hardly be aware that potassium nitrate couldn’t blow up a building, or vinegar mixed with bicarbonate couldn’t eat through cotton, let alone liquify inch-thick steel. Now that the story had captured her, she understood that those small details needn’t overshadow the action—the emotion—a clever scribe like Caldwell Nance could tease out of the page.

Perhaps she did have an imagination after all.

Ada propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and stared out at the storm-darkened street, watching the gusts of wind pluck the last of the summer’s leaves off the bare branches.

It wasn’t enough to take her mind off of Edison. Her stomach tightened. So very many things could have gone wrong.

Meena was watching her. “I do hate this part.”

“Does it get easier?”

Meena sent her a sympathetic smile. “No.”

Ada ran a finger around the edges of the book. “I was afraid you might say that.”

Meena thrust her pen back into the inkwell and rose. “No sense staring at that old thing,” she waved at the dour-looking cherubs on the clock. “We need an adventure.” She jumped up and motioned for Ada to follow her into the entryway.

“We’d like a lesson,” she said to Briar, who froze, sword high above her head, ready to plunge through the heart of an imaginary enemy.

The taller girl grinned. “What an excellent idea.”

She set her weapon down on the stairs and surveyed Ada from the tips of her sensible shoes to the tidy bun neatly secured at the base of her neck. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any training in the fighting arts?”

“No.”

“Not to worry.” Briar plucked two black umbrellas from the stand next to the front door. “That’s probably for the best. Master Tadeoka says it’s easier to teach new habits than change bad ones.”

Ada stared in wonder at Briar’s outfit. Dull black cotton with ribbon frogs in place of buttons and a curiously split skirt, it seemed designed for maximum movement.

“It’s purposely plain,” Briar explained. “You wouldn’t want a shiny button to glint in the moonlight, giving away your position.”

“And ruffles and bows only get in the way,” Meena added.

“I see your point.” How eminently sensible. Nothing to attract the eye or catch the tip of a sword. Such an outfit would work well in the laboratory.

“Let’s start with parasols.” Briar handed one to each of them.

Meena studied the pointed tip fondly. “It’s fascinating, the damage these can do.”

“Let’s demonstrate,” Briar said. Unarmed herself, she affected a menacing stance. “I’ll play the villain.”

Meena turned her back on her cousin and rested her hands on the handle of the umbrella, as if she were window shopping or waiting for an omnibus. “Do your worst.”

“She doesn’t mean that,” Briar said to Ada. “My worst is rather destructive, if I might be so bold.”

As Ada watched, Briar snuck up behind Meena, just as Ada imagined a cutpurse would. She reached over Meena’s shoulder, clearly planning to pull her back off her feet, but before Briar could gain any momentum, Meena ducked under her arm and spun around to face her, thrusting the tip of her parasol at the vulnerable underside of Briar’s chin.

“Excellent!” Briar stepped away. “The key is to react quickly, without hesitation. Had she given me time, I would have had her arms pinned to her sides.”

Ada nodded, fascinated by the skill and vigor both women exhibited. “But what if you’re unarmed?”

Meena and Briar shared a look.

“That’s the genius of Master Tadeoka’s training,” Meena said. “You’re never unarmed.”

Briar squared off about three feet from her cousin and raised her fists as if she were a pugilist preparing for a bareknuckle bout. “Show her the chin snap.”

Meena shook her arms out and nodded at her cousin.

Briar lunged, hands reaching for Meena’s throat. Just as her fingers curled into Meena’s collar, the shorter woman jabbed the heel of her hand upward, toward Briar’s chin. The women then demonstrated in slow motion how Meena’s blow would have snapped Briar’s head back most viciously.

But they weren’t finished.

As if moving underwater, Briar simulated how the blow would throw her backwards. Now Meena attacked, stepping forward as Briar stumbled back. She grabbed Briar’s shirtfront, pretending to pull her forward by a tie or a shirt collar. Once Briar’s upper body bent forward, Meena raised her knee. Had they been moving in real time, she would have slammed the top of her knee into Briar’s nose.

“And that,” Briar said as she whirled to face Ada, “would be that.”

“Fascinating!” Ada pressed her hands to her chest. “But you’ve been studying for years, the both of you.”

“True,” Briar said. “You could join us. There’s the most delightful group of forward-thinking women at Master Tadeoka’s studio. It’s growing rapidly, isn’t it Meena?”

Meena was studying Ada. “Briar’s right. You should consider it. You’d fit in wonderfully.”

How delightful that sounded. New friends. New skills to acquire.

Whether she and Edison continued their liaison or not, she supposed she was free to socialize with Briar and Meena as she chose. Lord knew the increased activity would be a good thing. Muscles she wasn’t even aware she owned still ached from her recent tumbles with the strong inventor.

Meena stepped aside. “Now you try it.”

Briar cupped Ada’s shoulders, moving her into position, with her back to the room. “Let’s begin with the parasol.” She pressed Meena’s weapon into her hand. “Imagine you’re trying to decide whether to pop into a hat shop to try on that little pink bonnet in the window. And remember, quick, decisive action.”

Ada gripped the curved handle of the substantial parasol. “But I don’t want to hurt you. What if I—?”

“Don’t worry,” Meena waved away her concern. “Briar’s too skilled to let you hurt her.”

Ada turned back to face the wall and tried to pretend she was engrossed in the offerings of an imaginary shop.

“All right,” Briar warned, “here I come.”

Even though she knew it was Briar’s arm snaking over her shoulder, Ada gasped. Instead of ducking toward her assailant and slipping out from under her as Meena had, she pulled away, in the opposite direction.

Briar followed her movements, leaning into her as she moved, pushing her further off-balance.

Before Ada toppled into the credenza, Briar pulled her back. “Well done!”

When Ada turned around, the girl was grinning. “That is precisely how one would normally react.” She smoothed the wrinkles bunched up over Ada’s shoulders. “That’s just what a criminal counts on. Instinct drives you to pull away, allowing him to push you down. Then he can grab whatever he wishes while you struggle to regain your footing. The thief would be off with your handbag and jewelry before you’d found the breath to yell.”

“But I knew you were coming.” Ada shook her head. “I knew you were coming and still I reacted badly. I can’t imagine what I’d do in a real scenario.”

“Exactly!” Briar seemed to applaud her lack of skill. “That’s why we spend hours in the studio. With enough practice, your responses become automatic.” She turned Ada back toward the wall and handed her back the umbrella. “Again.”

* * *

Wanting to simulate real life as much as practicable in her friends’ hallway, Ada squared her shoulders and tried to clear her mind. She imagined she was ogling a display of Venetian glass beakers at Gorton’s Chemical Supply.

She shifted from foot to foot, passing the handle of the parasol from hand to hand. It was no use. The back of her neck prickled with tension, and her ears strained for the slightest rustle of fabric that would signal Briar was about to pounce.

But the girl moved so quickly, there was no time between the swish of her skirts and the attack. Ada barely had time to tense before a black-clad arm looped over her shoulder. After an initial jerk away, Ada forced herself to lean into Briar’s embrace then slip down beneath her arm. Chin tucked into her chest as she’d seen Meena do, she pushed into Briar’s body, then ducked out underneath her grasp.

But she’d forgotten about the parasol.

Instead of tucking it in against her body and bringing it along, Ada allowed it to dangle out away from her. She managed to squirm out from under Briar’s hold, but before she had a chance to straighten, Briar jerked the weapon from her grasp.

“Better.” Briar handed her back the umbrella.

Ada shrugged modestly. “But I forgot about the brolly.”

“Not to worry,” Meena said. “Practice enough and you’ll be amazed how quickly you begin to react on instinct.”

The casement clock in the study broke through their conversation, signaling the hour with slow, solemn tones. Despite the exciting diversion, the reminder rekindled Ada’s worry. Short of the Waterloo bridge tumbling into the Thames, Henry and Edison should have returned.

Spencer and Nelly appeared from the kitchen, bringing with them the savory aromas of beef stew and yeasty bread. Spencer was drying his hands on a worn square of sack cloth. Although he presented an air of casual indifference, Ada caught the worried glance he sent his wife.

“Nothing?” he asked Meena softly.

She shook her head.

Briar was staring out the window now, arms hugging her waist. “I wonder if we should go after them.”

“We’ve still got Edison’s borrowed hansom,” Nelly pointed out.

Spencer tossed the cloth over his shoulder and pulled his wife into a gentle hug.

The way he cradled her against him—the tenderness in his look—squeezed Ada’s heart. How magnificent to share that kind of love.

Meena leaned into her husband’s embrace. “It has been some time since we’ve had an adventure of any magnitude. I suppose we should—”

Before she could finish, the door at the back of the house flew open.

“Here they are!” Nelly rushed off to greet them.

As quickly as the girl ran off, she returned, her expression grim. “The daft cabbages.” She shook her head slowly, looking more like a wise old woman than a girl barely in her majority. “This isn’t gonna go well.”

Behind her, Henry trudged into the room, face pale, eyes huge in the dimming light.

A portly figure in a white uniform followed.

Ada gasped. The admiral himself.

The man did not look pleased. Holy hell, what had Edison done?

“We’re in for it now,” Spencer muttered.

“Who the blazes are you people?” the admiral commanded.

Even as he emoted, he squinted at the four of them, blinking as he recognized Ada. “Mrs. Templeton? Are you all right? What have these lunatics done to you? Tell me they haven’t hurt you, or I’ll have them strung up so fast—”

“I’m fine. Perfectly fine.” Ada rushed forward to grasp the old man’s hands. She smiled up at him, hoping to reassure him. “These are my friends. They saved me from…”

A sharp stone bloomed in her throat, catching her unawares. She swallowed hard, blinking away a spring of tears that came with it. “Mr. Sweet and his family saved me from a most disagreeable fate.”

She locked gazes with Edison as she spoke. The smile he sent her held far too much wicked promise for the middle of the day, especially surrounded by his family and an irate naval officer.

Cheeks flaming, Ada looked away. Just a glance, and he had her ready to slip into his bed. Not just ready, but eager. Would her reaction to him ever dim?

“Of all the damned things.” Still ramrod straight, the Admiral puffed up his considerable chest and eyed each member of the group as if they were a sorry band of new recruits.

“I did try to tell you, sir,” Edison said.

The admiral harrumphed.

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose as if suddenly struck by a terrible headache.

Meena eyed her cousin as if he’d gone completely batty.

“Bloody hell, Edison, you were supposed to talk to the man, not kidnap him.” Briar berated her brother. “We’re terribly sorry, sir. We don’t do this often as a general rule.”

“I had to improvise.” Edison raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Things at Whitehall didn’t go exactly to plan.”

“There’s a shock,” Meena muttered. She crossed to the window next to the front door and peered out at the street beyond. “We’d best design some sort of plan before the rest of the Royal Navy gets here.”