Five years. He’d ended their relationship five years ago. She was not fool enough to assume that was a coincidence. But why? When he left, she’d assumed that she’d been nothing more than a brief liaison. A distraction soon discarded without a backward thought. But if she’d meant nothing to him, why his involvement here?
She turned to demand an answer, but he propelled them onward before she could voice the words. They stopped by the last door. Edward rapped sharply.
“Enter.”
Her heart thrummed at the words; she held her breath in anticipation. The dukewinked—dukes didn’t wink—and opened the door.
Sir Humphry Davy was standing at a bench in the center of the room. Fiona recognized him from her issues ofPhilosophical Transactions.
He approached Edward and bowed, his smile the one of friends reacquainting. The juxtaposition should have been odd, these two very different parts of her life in the one room. But as they turned to her, she was struck by their similarities. Both intelligent men with purpose. Both accustomed to a certain level of influence.
Edward gave her a reassuring nod. “Miss McTavish, may I present Sir Humphry Davy. Sir Humphry, Miss McTavish is an old family friend with a keen interest in chemistry.”
Sir Humphry’s eyes widened in surprise. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a young woman with an interest in science.” He brushed his lips against her glove and she nearly swooned.
“It is an honor to meet you, Sir Humphry. Your safety lamp was a product of pure genius.”
“Truly?” Sir Humphry’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m pleased that you found it so interesting. Are you a chemist?”
Like an eager student wanting to impress, she outlined her work. “I’ve created a compound that ignites when kinetic energy is applied. They’re essentially matches lit by friction.”
His demeanor changed from polite interest to genuine enthusiasm. “Another fire wrangler—how delightful.”
Quite unbelieving that Sir Humphry Davy would have an interest in her work, she quickly told him of her research and her tutelage with John.
“Barnesworth is a remarkable fellow. If he’s taken the time to teach you, you must be equally remarkable.”
Delight fizzed through her, like sherbet on the tongue. Sir Humphry just called her remarkable. The man whose redesigned miners’ lamp had saved thousands of lives.
It was instinct, the way she grabbed hold of Edward’s hand. A sudden need to share her excitement. His bearing didn’t shift; it was still duke-ishly reserved. But as he interlaced his fingers with hers and squeezed them gently, she knew he understood. And, surprisingly, there was no one else she’d rather share this moment with.
***
Bringing her here had been a massive miscalculation. All Edward had wanted to do was give her a happy moment to erase the disappointment of the day, and it had worked. She was as happy as he’d ever seen her.
But watching her converse with one of the brightest minds in England—holding her own entirely—just reminded him of how intelligent she was, and how vibrant and engaging and full of life she could be. His soul ached for her.
He was supposed to be moving on with his life and marrying a proper society lady. Reminders of her effervescence were not making that job any easier, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Fiona sat her briefcase on one of the long benches that ran the length of the laboratory and unlatched it.
He moved closer to see the match that she’d been talking about. His senses prickled at her nearness and he inhaled deeply—and gagged, turning away and bringing his fingers to his mouth to keep the sudden need to retch at bay. “Whatisthat?”
Fiona looked up at him, her eyes dancing. “It’s the sulfur,” she said. “You get used to it.”
“I’d rather not, if we’re being honest.” Yet, he was utterly unsurprised that she had. Where the women of his acquaintance would likely swoon, Fiona got her hands dirty.
There was a chuckle from Sir Humphry, and the older gentleman passed Edward a handkerchief, thankfully scented with sandalwood. “A hazard of the profession, Your Grace.”
Fiona removed a metal box from her satchel and opened it. Within were a handful of long, thin sticks of straw-colored wood—not much thicker than his widest hat pin—half the length of which were covered in a thick, brown metallic coating and the tips of which had been dipped into a black substance.
Fiona pulled the match through a tube of gritty paper. It popped and hissed and a cascade of sparks showered the bench. At the center, her fingers held one tip of the wood. At the other was a small but steady flame.
She held it up so they could better see it, the flame reflected in her eyes. The red light in them glowed and all breath escaped him.
She was magical. She was brilliant. She was not of his world.
Sir Humphry clapped heartily and Edward jerked at the sound. He’d been so transfixed by her and her achievement that he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. He joined the applause. “Brava,” he said. “That is a most remarkable stick of fire.”
