He needed to move.

Edison’s back was stiff from disuse. The muscles in his shoulders were knotting up, and his right hip was cramping. He needed to wiggle about and stomp his feet.

But he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Ada. She was nestled into his side, her head on his shoulder, fast asleep.

After what she’d endured, she needed rest.

And he had no problem admitting he was enjoying the feel of her against him. He liked knowing she felt safe enough to let down her guard with him.

Still, the lack of concealment grated on him. The lane was flanked by nothing but open fields dotted with shaggy sheep. Their carriage would be visible for miles around.

He ached to urge the horse on faster.

He wanted off the road, but not at the price of attracting further attention. With a house in flames not two leagues behind them, attention would not benefit them.

The reins lay slack in his hands as the well-trained nag shuffled at a studied pace back toward the city. Edison let his mind wander. He sifted through the series of events, hoping some detail—insignificant at the time—would point him in the right direction.

Ada stirred, shifting about in her sleep. Her hand fell into his lap. Edison gritted his teeth and snapped the reins, urging the horse into a smart trot.

Lucifer’s teeth. Was it the devil himself taunting him?

He stared hard at the road ahead, desperate to focus on anything but the white hand laying snuggly against his tackle.

She fancied him. The signs were clear.

The little glances, the catch of her breath when he caught her eye, the breathy little sighs she didn’t even notice were like signs on a roadmap. Easy to read but not leading in the direction he wished to travel.

Indeed, Mrs. Ada Templeton was a destination he had no business exploring.

Ada was sheltered and remarkably innocent for a widow. Decidedly not his sort. He kept his sights on worldly women, women who gave as good as they got. Women whose affections he couldn’t gain, couldn’t shatter.

Women of great passion but little heart.

So he’d keep his distance.

And he’d make quick work of the madman after her device, before Ada made quick work of his well-guarded independence.

It always surprised him, how abruptly country lanes gave way to congested, cobbled streets. The city acknowledged their arrival with a jolt as the wheels moved from soft dirt to hard uneven stone.

He’d lived in London the whole of his life, and still, the wall of noise produced by the sheer number of human beings stuffed into narrow streets made him wince.

Driving now required far more attention, and a good bit of skill.

Ada rocked gently against him as the hansom sped over the uneven road, then she lifted her head and blinked sleepily. Her muscles rippled against him as she stretched with the languid ease of a house cat.

“We need shelter for the night.” He eyed the road ahead, calculating a way through the shifting traffic. “I’ve got an idea.”

She yawned. “Our guest room is still—” She stopped. “This isn’t going to be simple, is it?”

“No.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “But it will be quick. There can’t be many who know about your device and have the means to take it.”

She bolted upright. “We need to contact my family. Before they read the news. We need to tell them we’re—”

“We will.” Edison slowed the horse, allowing a scrubby boy to push a pie cart across the street. “First, we need to get off the streets. If we happen on anyone who knows you, our plan fails before we start. I’ll find us a place for the night, then I’ll get off a telegram to the house.”

Ada slumped back against the seat.

Edison flicked her a look. She was holding up well. Better than well. He doubted even Meena or his sister could have handled that attack any better.

Her resilience pleased him. They weren’t out of this yet. Not by a long way. “I’m going to send them all to Brighton,” he announced.

“Brighton? Why?”

“Spencer has a home there. It’ll be easier to keep them safe out of London.”

Despite the worry on her face, she smiled. “Grandmama loves the seaside.” Her face grows serious again. “Then what? How do we start?”

“We find out who rented that cottage.”

The number of carriages and conveniences they encountered began to increase exponentially the closer they came to the center of the city. Overloaded delivery wagons competed with hansoms, great four and six-seater clarences, and the occasional omnibus for increasingly narrow strips of road.

To say nothing of the foolhardy pedestrians scurrying about at will in every which direction.

“We should start with Spottswood,” Ada announced out of nowhere. “How did he happen to be strolling by just as we left the Admiral’s office? Entirely too suspicious. And, the man is a pig.”

“We should start with your manufacturer.” Surely she would see the wisdom of his approach. “I’ll bet someone at your friend’s chemical company has been selling secrets.”

Ada shook her head. “It would be better to start at the top.”

“It all comes down to the manufacturing.”

“It comes down to the money,” she insisted. “Who has the money to buy the manufacturing?”

Edison’s jaw tightened so much he was sure he’d snap a tooth. How could she believe that? Finding the leak was clearly the best plan of attack.

“If we start with the top man,” she continued, “the leak will become obvious.”

“Great blazing he—” Edison pulled back hard on the reins.

“Are you cursing at me?”

“Of course not.” Edison jutted his chin at the idiotic pedestrian who’d darted in front of them.

One more disaster averted. He sank back against the cushions and let the reins go slack for the first time since they entered the city proper.

“It won’t be hard to locate Spottswood.” Ada’s voice rang with enthusiasm. “He won’t be up until noon, but that will give us time to set up some surveillance.”

Edison resisted the urge to tug at his hair. He stared straight ahead, shutting her out. “Delightful as this conversation is, I need to cry off. Driving through this mess requires concentration.”

She might have sniffed, but he couldn’t be sure over the general din.

“Finding the leak is the clear strategy.” He couldn’t resist pointing out the error in her ways.

He waited, but only silence came from her side of the bench.

A small smile eased the tension in his jaw. Had her now, he did. His logic was impeccable.

Impossible to dismiss.

With the wave of her hand, Ada brushed aside his argument. “Only if you assume our villain found out about my device through a spy at Stanton’s factory, which I find illogical for many reasons.”

Satan’s balls, the woman was five kinds of stubborn. Edison clamped down on the many ways he could think of to shoot down her so-called logic, but kept his thoughts to himself. They trundled along in silence, wonderful, something silence for at least a five minutes. Time enough for his heartbeat to return to normal.

And for his stomach to begin to growl.

* * *

By the time Edison stopped the coach across the street from Leyland White’s fashionable mansion in Mayfair, his stomach had been protesting for at least half an hour.

Which did nothing to improve his mood.

Bathed in the golden light of an autumn sunset, White’s graceful home took on an elegant, serene glow. A remarkable achievement as it in no way reflected its owner.

Mouth agape, Ada stared up at the three stories of mullioned windows. “Yours?”

He snorted. “Too big for my taste. I happen to know the owner won’t have need of it anytime soon. Or ever.”

Ada gives him a look, then turned her attention back to the magnificent mansion. Though the windows were clean, the landscaping not yet so overgrown as to be vulgar, the place looked blank, devoid of any spark of human energy.

Dead, almost.

“It’s rather eery.” Ada scooted to the edge of her seat and studied the surrounding homes set like jewels around a tidy, fenced park. Welcoming yellow glows were beginning to show through the open drapes of many of the neighboring mansions.

“Why is it empty?”

“That’s a long tale.” Edison studied the windows, noting that the drapes remained firmly closed over each one. Once he was satisfied the place seemed unoccupied, he guided the horse down the street and pulled into the alley around back, finding the matching mews, where he tucked the horse and carriage.

“Wait here.” He jumped out of hansom. “I have no reason to believe the place is occupied, but it never hurts to be cautious.”

The door to the servants’ entrance was locked. A good sign. He peeked through the window. The entryway and butler’s pantry stood dark and silent. No hint of movement beyond.

He used his pocket knife to pick the lock. Meena would have done it faster, but only by a hair. He opened the well-oiled door and stood just inside, listening, reaching out with all of his senses.

No sounds. No odors, beyond the must of disuse. Satisfied, he turned back outside to gather their things.

“Holy God.” He almost knocked her over.

Ada had been standing on the back step, hands cupped to the window over the pantry sink, peering inside.

“We can’t stay here.”

“Of course we can.”

“What if the owner returns? The servants? I’d never sleep.”

“The owner is—" He stopped himself before he could reveal the news of White’s well-deserved imprisonment. He sensed that wouldn’t help his case. “The owner’s out of the country. Quite an extended trip.”

“He’s not sure he’ll even return.” Which was an out and out lie. White’s crimes were so severe, the man would never leave Newgate. “I heard it from his cousin last week. That’s why he let the servants go.”

Edison edged past her to return to the hansom. He hefted her device and carried it into the house. If he moved them straight in, she’d have a harder time complaining.

Ada followed on his heels. She closed the door behind them and waited for him to set the battery down in the butler’s pantry.

“You’re lying.” She shook her head sadly. “I know you pride yourself on being good at it, but this hasn’t been your best effort.”

“Only partially.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and waited like a governess intimidating a naughty child into confessing.

He sighed, assessing his options. “The situation is less than optimal. I see that. But unless you have a better idea, I don’t believe this will be too uncomfortable.” He eyed the cloth-covered furnishings. “There are worse places to spend a night.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why can’t we find an inn?”

“How would you suggest we register?” He stepped closer, deliberately crowding her. “I can play the eager bridegroom, if that’s your desire. Or we could pretend we’ve run off for a secret liaison.” He traced a finger down her cheek, his eyes on the swell of her breasts beneath all that gray bombazine. “Just give me the word.”

Cheeks flushing, Ada gasped and stepped out of reach.

While he waited for the outrage to dim and her logical brain to assess the situation, he walked about the kitchen. Not a crumb of food.

Hardly surprising. He was amazed there was a stick of furniture left. White couldn’t have been a pleasant employer. Once word of his fate spread, Edison wouldn’t have blamed the staff from grabbing anything they could rip off of the walls.

“Yes, fine. I see your point,” Ada acknowledged finally. She stared at the cobwebs tenting the pump over the sink, then eyed the ice-box, its door hanging open to reveal its emptiness. “This will do.”

It would more than do, but he wasn’t about to start another argument. He rubbed the back of his aching neck. He was used to temperamental women, strong and stubborn women.

But Ada ran in a gear he didn’t comprehend.

Which wouldn’t matter much longer. With the resources and the contacts he had at his disposal, it wouldn’t take long to find out who wanted her dead.

Then her enticing, exciting, exasperating energy would be some other man’s problem.