Where would a man like Lowry hide the journal? She did not know enough about him even to make a guess. That would be the first step then: to find out more about Bartholomew Lowry.
Of course, stealing the journal did not remove Lowry as a problem. If Pike came to know that the man wished to return to the Dark Days Club as her Terrene, he might see Lowry as a viable alternative to Darby even if the journal was no longer in play. There was only one way to stop that terrible future: she had to bond with Darby as soon as her maid was ready. Perhaps even sooner.
‘For God’s sake, tell me what he said,’ Hammond entreated.
She opened her eyes. Yes, she could speak now. ‘Pull over.’
He tightened the reins, drawing the mare into a walk and finally a stop at the grassy edge of the road. They were alongside the castle again, its ruined towers and gatehouse looming over them. In clipped sentences, Helen told him what had occurred in her interview with Lowry.
Hammond listened, his lips drawn back over his teeth in disgust. ‘Dear God, you say the book is written in blood?’ He shook his head. ‘Benchley was mad as a hatful of snakes, and Lowry is not much better. You cannot have him as your Terrene.’ His flattened hand wiped the air, banishing the possibility. ‘I cannot even think it. The bond is partly in mind as well as body. A Reclaimer must trust their Terrene to protect them in their most vulnerable moments. You have seen how Mr Quinn must inflict pain upon his lordship to draw him back from the edge of madness.’
Yes, she had seen it in Vauxhall Gardens. Mr Quinn had drawn a spike and stabbed his lordship through the hand to break the thrall of the Deceiver energy in his lordship’s body. It had been the first time she had seen a Deceiver, and the first time she had seen the violent bond between Reclaimer and Terrene. The shock of both still prickled across her skin.
‘Mr Quinn knows how to inflict the minimum amount of force to counter the Deceiver energy,’ Mr Hammond continued. ‘But you could never trust Lowry to be so careful. On the contrary, he would take pleasure in hurting you. He would take advantage of you at every possible opportunity, in every possible way.’
Helen lifted her shoulders, trying to shift the too vivid imagining of Lowry’s hands upon her body. ‘He has already indicated such intimacies.’
‘He is a vile dog and dangerous with it.’ Hammond stared up at the castle and hissed out a breath. ‘He is right about one thing though: Pike will take his offer.’
‘As I see it,’ Helen said, ‘we must deliver the journal to Pike or we will both be in peril, but we cannot tell him about Lowry’s demand.’
‘I agree. But how are we to deliver the journal?’
‘We must find it ourselves.’
What if he did not think it possible? That she was being a fool.
He regarded her solemnly. ‘How do you propose to do that?’
‘Where would you hide something illicit and of infinite value?’
‘If it was of infinite value, I would not let it leave my sight.’
‘True,’ Helen conceded. ‘But if you were someone like Lowry and wished to trade it, you could not carry it to a deal in case it was forced from you.’
Hammond nodded. ‘Then I would hide it somewhere secure. A bank, or Boodle’s.’
‘I doubt Lowry is a member of Boodle’s,’ Helen said dryly. ‘Would you not hide it in a place you knew well or with a person you trusted?’
‘Well, I would trust Margaret with anything.’ He scratched his chin, considering. ‘You think he has placed it with a family member or a friend?’
‘I am hoping he has done so.’
‘I would warrant he has no friends, or at least none that could be trusted. Does he have any family?’
‘I do not know, but I think I have a way to find out.’ Helen leaned forward and, even though no one was around, lowered her voice. ‘While he was gloating, he let slip that he grew up in Brighton. Lord Carlston has said more than once that old Martha Gunn, the dipper, knows everything about everyone in the town. Surely she would know if Lowry has siblings or other family in the vicinity?’
‘Perhaps.’ Hammond was silent for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, family would answer why he is in the area. If luck is on our side, this Gunn woman could point us in the right direction.’
Helen sat back in the gig seat. Thank heavens he thought the plan had merit.
‘I will make an appointment to take a dip in the sea with her in the next few days,’ she said.
He touched her arm, a fleeting gesture of camaraderie. ‘This meeting with Lowry may not have gone as we wished, but you rallied well.’
‘I ran from him — that is not rallying well.’
‘You beat a strategic retreat,’ he said, gathering the reins again. ‘Never underestimate the value of a good retreat.’
She smiled at the quick rejoinder, but could not shake her growing sense of failure. They had no guarantee that her plan would yield a path to follow. And in all truth, her male disguise had not been much put to the test. She had frozen shamefully when the old man had spoken to her, and her interactions with the Deceiver and the serving girl had been so swift as to be negligible.
‘I am not doing very well as a young man, am I?’
Hammond angled his face towards her, the lamplight gilding the draw of his brow. ‘Nonsense. Under the circumstances, you are doing splendidly.’
He flicked the reins, urging the horse once more onto the road. Helen braced herself as the gig bumped back into motion, warmed by his vehemence. Even so, his belief did not drive away her own doubts. Or those of Lord Carlston.
‘His lordship would not agree with you,’ she said over the grind of the wheels. ‘He does not think I am up to the task of being a Reclaimer.’
‘You are wrong.’ Hammond turned his attention from the shadowy road that stretched before them and regarded her, clearly weighing up his next words. ‘He is worried that you have lived the cloistered life of a young lady too long and will not be able to overcome your gentle upbringing.’
‘Is that what you think?’
He shook his head. ‘Not at all. You have the warrior within you — we all saw it when your full strength came at the Lamb Tavern — and I believe it will eventually conquer any feminine diffidence. I am sure his lordship believes the same. Besides, you chased off that Deceiver at the inn with great expediency.’
True, but she had been afraid through the whole of the encounter. She looked up at the sliver of moon above the castle. So Lord Carlston feared she was too civilised, too feminine. She wet her lips, remembering the animal savagery she had felt on the arrival of her full Reclaimer strength. She had lost all precious reason, all control, and had tried to kill his lordship. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of her life. One that she did not want to repeat. Yet Lord Carlston was waiting — no, hoping — for that warrior to emerge again and carry her beyond the bounds of morality and reason.