She shook her head. “Stanton was to be the manufacturer. He’s got early prototypes and containers from my latest design.”
Edison clenched his jaw. “That is damned clever.”
He kicked at the dwindling bundle. “He’ll set up one of your devices to create the fire. If I were him, I’d explode it.”
He paced about the small chamber, thinking. “It’s the perfect story. Destroy you. Destroy the evidence, and make your device appear completely unstable.”
Ada stared down at the pile of rags, all her anger, all her energy, draining away. “Then he’s free to present it as his own. A superior battery. A stable battery. Much better than a woman’s pathetic design.”
Edison put a finger beneath her chin, gently tilting her head up until their gazes locked. “He hasn’t won yet.”
Ada tried to smile. “No. He wasn’t.”
Edison ran his thumbs along the tight line of her jaw. “They won’t use the chloroform until he’s moved us where he wants us to be found.”
Ada opened her mouth to ask how he knew, but reasoned it out for herself. “Why drag us when he can make us walk?”
“Exactly.” Nose wrinkled against the stench, Edison began pulling on the clothing. “That’ll give us plenty of time.”
Ada smiled for the first time since this nightmare began. Really smiled. “He’ll have explosives handy.”
Edison’s grin made her heart beat faster. “That’s my girl.”
If only she were.
Ada unbuttoned her gown, but stopped before dropping it to the floor. The corset. Why had she insisted on wearing that scandalous corset his friend Cherise had lent her?
It seemed a small thing—a ridiculous thing—under the circumstances, but now that things were over between them, she didn’t want him believing she cared enough to wear it.
Edison threw her a look. “We should hurry. No sense in upsetting him… yet.”
He was right. The quicker they prepared… Ada turned her back and shrugged out of her dress. Maybe he won’t notice.
She unfastened the hooks and eyes down the front as quickly as possible. As she pulled it open, the paring knife fell to the floor. One hand shielding herself from his gaze, she whirled around to face him. “I forgot about this.” She held it up to him.
Edison snatched it out of her hand and examined the wicked little blade. “I’ve defeated smarter men than Grenville with less.”
Ada hoped that was true.
“Had I known you were wearing that,” he pointed the tip of the knife at the pile of green satin on the floor, “I might not have been so clear-headed.”
Ada felt her cheeks blaze. “It was all I had at hand,” she lied.
“It suits you,” he said, a small fire twinkling in his eyes.
Ada stared down at the lovely undergarment, amazed that even under the present conditions, his compliment warmed her.
Clearly, she’d never be immune to his charms.
Attired now in his own rags, Edison scooped up the filthy gown meant for her and held it out. She tossed it over her head, arms swimming in the wide bodice. Too wide and far too short, it swam on her. The wide neckline threatened to slip straight off her shoulders.
Edison managed to find a length of string long enough to go around her waist. He turned her around and secured the excess fabric at the back of the greasy old thing, tying it off with the rope.
Ada tried not to breathe too deeply, lest the stench of rancid perfume and sweat and cooking grease make her stomach heave.
If Cherise’s stunning blue satin made her confident and sensual and desirable, how did this wrapping of rags transform her? She ran her hands down the dirt-streaked bodice.
One could suggest it made her the loser. Stanton would agree with that sentiment. He wanted her to feel defeated. Dejected. Lost.
But she refused to give in to that lunatic’s wishes.
Ada rolled her shoulders back and straightened her spine. She decided her new disguise made her resolute. Quick-thinking. Dangerous.
Stanton’s rags would transform her into the most dangerous woman he’d ever encountered.
“What’s so funny?” Edison asked when he saw her grin.
Ada opened her mouth to respond, but a sharp wrap on the door cut her off. “Hurry it along.”
Edison reached out for her. He took her hands, raising first one and then the other to his lips, imprinting each with the warm outline of his mouth.
Then he stared straight into her eyes. “Follow my lead. He’ll give us an opportunity. Several most likely. Be ready for anything.”
Edison adjusted the loose neckline of her dress until it covered the dingy chemise underneath. “I’ll get you out of this. Never doubt it.”
“I know,” Ada said. “Just in case we don’t, I need to tell you I’m sorry it’s come to this. This shouldn’t have been your battle.”
This time, his smile was sweet and inexplicably sad. “It’s been worth every moment.” He trailed a finger over her lips. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Mrs. Ada Templeton.”
He gave her hand a final squeeze before turning the doorknob. “We’re coming out,” he called, and opened it.
Ada followed on his heels, her heart heavy as a chunk of lead.
Edison was strong and smart and indescribably brave. She had no doubt in his abilities to save them.
She only wished the end didn’t mean good bye.
Chapter 27
Were it not for the three armed men surrounding him, Edison would’ve broken Grenville’s nose for the look of utter contempt he gave Ada as they emerged in their stinking rags.
“Follow me,” Grenville ordered. His fine leather shoes scuffed along the cement floor, echoing off the walls and the ceiling two stories above as he led the way across the massive factory floor. The factory was dark, the only light coming from the lanterns Grenville and his guards carried.
The older man waddled down the wide aisle lined with stamping machines, conveyor belts and a great two-story smelter, his breathing obviously labored. Edison detected the wet wheeze of a man losing the battle with age and ill-health.
One blow below the breastbone would drop the old sack of lard.
But he couldn’t rely on Grenville’s hired thugs abandoning the piece of filth. If he thought for a second the three goons would flee…. He flexed his fingers. Too early to rely on such a risky strategy.
He eyed every piece of machinery, every tool, every pail and pot and cog they passed, cataloguing anything that might serve as a weapon.
Or a distraction.
Many sharp, heavy, damage-inducing implements lay at hand. If only he dared grab one.
“Over here,” Grenville commanded as they reached the far corner of the space.
The boilers. Edison sighed. He should have anticipated that.
Tucked in the corner behind one of the great boilers that supplied the steam power for the factory’s many machines, Grenville had arranged a pathetic pile of ragged blankets. Old prototypes of Ada’s batteries had been stacked together to form a makeshift table top.