Carlston frowned. ‘In truth, I had not expected Pike to come to Brighton to swear you in — I had thought to give you more time to consider the gravity of that final step. Even so, Pike should have asked if you fully comprehended what you were undertaking before you took the oath. Did he not?’
Helen closed her eyes. Yes, he had asked, and she had reassured him — no, she had coldly told him — that she knew exactly what she was doing. Pike’s manner had brought out all her prideful contrariness. Darby too had been asked the same question by Lady Margaret, and had given all reassurances that she understood. This time she could not lay the fault of her ignorance at his lordship’s feet. This had been her own failing.
‘Pike did his duty.’ She opened her eyes, rallying. ‘Nevertheless, it is a ridiculous and unfair rule. You are saying that we must live without the consolation of creating our own families. Without love and intimacy. Without tenderness.’
‘I am not saying it is fair. Plainly, it is not. But you must understand that the rule was writ for men, not women. Reclaimers and Terrenes are men. Usually.’ He rubbed at his temple. ‘Forgive me for being blunt, but there are ways for men to assuage their needs without emotional attachment.’
What was he saying … assuage their needs? An instant later, his meaning burst upon her. He meant lovers. Or worse, harlots.
‘That is hardly an avenue that Darby or I can take!’ she said.
‘I am aware —’ He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, his fist clenching. It was not in reaction to her words; something was wrong with him.
‘Lord Carlston, are you unwell?’
He opened his eyes, clearly trying to focus. ‘No, I am perfectly well.’ Drawing a careful breath, he added, ‘Perhaps you should consider that you are no longer living a woman’s life. That those ties that bind normal women no longer apply. You are young; it would indeed be cruel to sentence you to a life without intimacy. Perhaps your needs … I mean your …’ He cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps they could be met in a less formal manner.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ She felt her skin heat. ‘Are you advising me to take a lov—’ She stumbled over the idea. ‘To follow Lady Caroline Lamb’s example?’
‘Perhaps not so indiscreetly as Caro.’ His voice hardened. ‘And I advise you do not go in Selburn’s direction.’
She held up her hands; the subject had to stop. ‘I am not going in anyone’s direction.’
He gave a short nod. ‘Perhaps that is for the best. Even such loveless attachments bring their problems.’
‘Lord Carlston, please stop!’
‘I have shocked you.’ He gave a small bow. ‘My apologies. Even so, the ban still stands. I will speak to Quinn. You must speak to Darby. Make it clear that it can go no further.’
‘No, I do not want to have such a conversation. This rule is unfair and cruel.’
Admittedly the refusal was somewhat ironic, since she did not want Darby to abandon her for Quinn. Nevertheless, she could not break Darby’s heart.
She braced for his lordship’s anger. It did not come. Instead, he sighed and dug his fingertips into his brow as if they could burrow right through to the bone.
‘I too am not looking forward to the conversation. Quinn deserves more happiness than he can find at my side.’ His mouth pinched into regret. ‘Regardless, you and I are the Reclaimers in this equation, Lady Helen. We must lead our Terrenes. That duty is never-ending and never easy.’
Their duty. He was right, although she wanted to deny it and run away. As he had said, she had sworn an oath to God and King, and had claimed to have a full understanding of that undertaking. There could be no backing out of such a solemn and binding vow. Besides, Mr Hammond was relying upon her to help finish their task. She hated to admit it, but the love between two servants had to take second place to a man’s survival and an oath made in God’s name. Not to mention her own safety.
‘There have been many times when I have wanted to walk away,’ Carlston said softly, as if he had read her mind. ‘But you and I have been brought up with the same immutable knowledge: without adherence to our word, we are worth nothing.’
There was such pain in his voice. Too much pain perhaps for merely an unwanted task. His skin had paled too, and he pressed his hand over his eyes as if the light had suddenly become too much.
‘I do not think you are well at all, Lord Carlston. Do you have the migraine?’
He dropped his hand from his brow as if she had caught him in an illicit act. ‘Of course not.’ Turning from her scrutiny, he added, ‘Come, let us begin training.’
He was taking refuge in practicalities, and right then she did not have the wherewithal to pursue the subject. Her mind was reeling from the ramifications of the ban for herself — could she live her life without love? — and the prospect of speaking to Darby on such a painful subject.
His lordship walked to the long table set against the far wall and picked up two canes. ‘We will work on your defensive techniques first and then introduce some canne chausson. I want you to get over this squeamishness about hitting me. You must get used to making contact and withstanding blows.’
‘I am trying.’
‘I know.’ He waved at her garb. ‘The technique is based upon kicking, so keep your boots on, but remove your jacket for ease of movement.’
Helen shifted her shoulders, the tight fit of the broadcloth bringing home an awkward problem. ‘I cannot take my coat off without aid.’
‘Ah, yes. Every fashionable man’s problem,’ he said, trying for lightness. ‘It seems I have sent away your maid prematurely.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘I will assist you, if you allow.’
She wet her lips. To be undressed by him, even just the removal of a jacket, was, at the very least, untoward. For decency’s sake she should insist that Darby be called back, particularly since she had just seen what lay beneath his iron will. Not to mention the scandalous conversation they had just had about lovers and needs. But in truth, the real reason — the shameful reason — was because any time they touched, her body felt alight. For her sake — for both their sakes — she should say no. Yet … she nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said unnecessarily. Was he too looking for the chance to touch? Maybe they both wanted to play with fire.
A few strides took him to the chair. He propped the canes against it and stood for a moment — watching her, she realised, for any hesitation.
There was still time to change her mind. To say no, and send for Darby.
She turned her back, every sense aware of his approach. One step, two, and then he was behind her, his body only inches from her own. She stared fiercely at the opposite wall, waiting for his touch. Her whole being was full of the sandalwood scent of his shaving soap, the draw of his breath, the heat of every exhalation upon the nape of her neck.
What were they doing? Had she not just railed against him and his order? Had he not just told her that this attraction was forbidden? It was as if he were the sun and she Icarus, ignoring the bright, hot danger ahead.
‘May I begin?’ His voice was at its most formal.