Garner entered and stepped aside as Lord Carlston and Mr Hammond strode into the room. The two men bowed.
Helen focused on the impeccable fit of his lordship’s dark blue jacket across his shoulders, the strong line of his neck, the beginning of a curl in his clipped dark hair. As he straightened, she tried to fix her eyes upon the wall behind him, but found her gaze relentlessly pulled back to his face. Lud, it was as if he were the north and her eyes a compass. She braced herself against the inevitable effect of him upon her body. There it was: the little skip within her chest. A response to harmonious symmetry and line, she told herself. Even so, she could feel a deeper pulse within herself; an insistent beat that seemed to reach towards him.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lady Margaret curtsey, and hurriedly bobbed into her own.
‘I hope your journey was not too tiresome, Lord Carlston,’ Lady Margaret said.
‘Not at all.’ His expression was at its most unreadable. Not a good sign, but there was no use delaying the inevitable.
Helen stepped forward. ‘Lord Carlston, may I present my friend, Miss Delia Cransdon.’ She could not keep the defiance from her voice.
His eyebrows lifted at the tone, but he turned his attention to Delia. ‘Miss Cransdon,’ he said, bowing again.
‘Lord Carlston.’ Delia executed a graceful curtsey.
‘Would you like a glass of wine, Carlston?’ Lady Margaret asked.
‘I thank you, no.’ His attention was once again upon Helen.
Lady Margaret waved a dismissal to the butler. ‘That will be all, Garner.’
‘Mr Hammond,’ Carlston said as the door closed behind the servant, ‘would you please escort your sister and Miss Cransdon to the morning room. I wish to speak to Lady Helen alone.’
Helen felt all the air leave her body.
‘Of course,’ Mr Hammond said. He look anxiously at Helen. ‘My lord, I —’
‘Thank you, Mr Hammond,’ Carlston said pleasantly. ‘Leave us now.’
Silently, Delia and Lady Margaret crossed the room. Helen kept her eyes fixed upon the dusky pink carpet as they passed. She had a fair idea what was in their faces, and right then she did not want to meet Delia’s fear or Lady Margaret’s grim satisfaction. She heard the click of the door open, the creak of the landing as it took three people, and finally the soft thud of the door as it once again shut. Alone with his lordship.
She took another deep breath and raised her eyes. He had not moved and his face was still impassive. If he was angry, the emotion was under strict control.
‘Lord Carlston, allow me to explain. Miss Cransdon was tricked into eloping with a suitor by the name of Trent whom I believe was a Deceiver. The creature shot itself before her and she witnessed the illumination as it passed from its body —’
‘I am aware of what Miss Cransdon witnessed,’ he said, cutting her short. ‘They were pursued by Mr Hallifax, the Reclaimer who was tracking that creature, and he has provided me with a full report.’
‘Oh.’ Helen took a moment to digest the implications of this knowledge. ‘Did you know that she was my friend at the time?’
‘Of course. As soon as I became aware of your abilities, I instructed our Tracers to check the lineage of all the people around you. We had to determine if they could be of a known Deceiver line. Although,’ he tilted his head in wry acknowledgment, ‘we failed to find the Deceiver who infiltrated your house as a footman.’
‘Philip,’ Helen said. With a start, she remembered her possible sighting. Should she tell Lord Carlston? Surely Pike’s ban did not cover that information. ‘I thought I saw him on Friday, in the township.’
‘Here?’ His lordship frowned.
‘I cannot be certain,’ she added quickly. ‘It was but a glimpse and I could not sight him again, although we made a search. It was probably just someone who looked like him.’
‘I will make inquiries.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Philip is definitely one who slipped through our Tracer net. Nevertheless, our people are as thorough as possible with the limited registers that we have in our archives. We checked everyone around you against that information, including Miss Cransdon.’
‘Everyone?’ That little demon of defiance made her add, ‘Even the Duke of Selburn? I know he is here in Brighton too.’
His jaw tightened, but he did not rise to her jibe. ‘Yes, we even checked the Duke of Selburn.’
‘And did you find anything?’
‘No one is of a Deceiver line that we can detect.’
‘But what if Delia had been a Deceiver?’
‘That would make it a great deal simpler. She would be dispatched.’
‘You mean killed, don’t you?’ Helen stared at him. ‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that,’ he repeated. ‘There could be only two reasons for a Deceiver to work its way into your life: to harm you or to gather information about the Dark Days Club.’ He walked to the window and looked out to the street, his profile a sharp-edged silhouette against the light. ‘Mr Hammond informs me that you wrote a letter to Miss Cransdon that promised the truth about the Deceivers.’
‘I did.’ Helen squared her shoulders. ‘But that was before I took my oath before Mr Pike.’
‘Yes, Mr Pike.’ His tone was flat. ‘I believe you met Mr Stokes as well.’
He abandoned the window and crossed to the hearth. She turned to face him again.
‘Yes, I did.’ She waited, but he did not reply. The silence felt accusatory. ‘I kept my oath, Lord Carlston,’ she added sharply. ‘I did not tell Delia anything. I hope Mr Hammond made that clear.’
‘He told me that Miss Cransdon has a penchant for listening at doors.’
He walked around the sofa. She found herself pivoting again. He was circling her, like some predatory beast.
‘It was not well done of Delia, I know, but you must understand that her family is determined to send her to a sanatorium. They tell her nothing about her fate and she must find out through any means.’
‘So now she is aware of the existence of the Deceivers and the Dark Days Club.’
‘Yes.’ She watched him pace, trying to find some little clue that would help gauge his mood. He was certainly angry — it was in the stiff length of his fingers — but there was something else as well. ‘I was hoping that you would allow her to join us. I am sure she could be of use.’
He stopped by the two large Chinoiserie urns set against the wall and crossed his arms. ‘It is not my decision.’
Helen paused. Of course, he had a hierarchy to consider. ‘You mean the Home Office must agree?’
He shook his head. ‘She has been cleared by the Tracers. It is now your decision.’
Her decision? Helen frowned. ‘But I have only just joined. I have barely begun my training.’
‘Nevertheless, you have created a breach that may threaten the organisation. Miss Cransdon must either be brought into the fold or her silence guaranteed. If she is to stay, you must take her as one of your aides.’