The doors suddenly opened again, drawing everyone’s attention.
‘Helen?’ Lord Carlston stood upon the threshold, fully clad this time, eyes sweeping the room with fierce urgency until they found her at the window. Sane eyes, thank God.
Quinn stood behind him, face stiff with tension, plainly ready to intervene if his master made any violent move. And beside Quinn, Darby stood just as ready.
‘Carlston!’ Helen took a step towards him.
Twice now he had woken with Selburn in the house. Coincidence? Or could hate penetrate the fugue state?
‘Stay back,’ the Duke ordered, his cane raised into a club.
Helen held up her hand. ‘Put that down, please, Your Grace. Lord Carlston is himself. I can see it.’
Carlston stared at her for a moment — such an agony of relief and regret — then turned his attention to Selburn. ‘What are you doing here?’
The Duke watched him, cane still raised. ‘I am here for Lady Helen. I am a member of the Dark Days Club now, Carlston. A sworn member.’
‘Is that true?’ The snarled question was aimed at Mr Hammond.
His aide nodded. ‘He saw us outside the bawdy-house. Forced Pike to explain.’ He glanced at Helen, alarm in the brief connection. ‘My lord, perhaps you should step outside.’
Carlston strode into the room, shadowed by Quinn and Darby. The Duke braced his feet into the carpet, his hand flexing around the cane handle.
‘Please, Your Grace, there is no need for alarm,’ Helen said, hoping she was right.
Warily, he lowered the cane.
Carlston stopped at the sideboard, his hand finding the edge. The quick, commanding entrance had cost him. Helen saw the flare of his nostrils as he fought to keep his breathing smooth, and the tiny slump of relief as he leaned into the support of the solid mahogany.
‘You should return to your bed, Lord Carlston,’ Lady Margaret said, rising from the sofa. ‘You are still not well.’
He waved her back. ‘I am completely recovered, thank you.’
Even the most obtuse observer could see that for a lie, Helen thought. He had none of his usual grace, his skin was drained of colour and the broad width of his shoulders rounded. That same observer, however, would not see what was so apparent to Helen: the Deceiver energy still snapped within him, barely under his control. The energy that she had unknowingly forced upon him.
Lady Margaret cast an agonised glance at her brother and sank back onto the sofa.
Carlston regarded the Duke. ‘Sworn or not, you are unwelcome here, Selburn.’
‘You made that quite clear during my last visit,’ the Duke said, his hand reflexively ringing his throat. ‘Nevertheless —’
‘What visit?’ Carlston snapped.
‘He does not know,’ Delia whispered to Lady Margaret.
‘Lord Carlston, you attacked His Grace yesterday,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘In this room. You nearly killed him. Lady Helen and Quinn barely stopped you in time.’
Carlston glanced at Helen. She nodded.
‘The last thing I recall is the lane … losing the journal.’ He gave a dry laugh aimed at the Duke. ‘I attacked you? Even divorced from rationality, it seems I have good instincts. Lady Helen does not need your protection.’
The Duke smiled coldly. ‘Lady Helen asked me to come here. She has asked for my help.’
Carlston frowned. ‘Is that true, Helen?’
She felt her bare name hang in the silence: a statement to her and a challenge to the Duke. Caught again between these two men. A deep ache opened in her chest, like a claw raking across her heart.
‘Yes, it is true, Lord Carlston.’
The use of his title caught in her throat, but it had to be done — for his own safety. She saw his eyes flicker: a pained acknowledgment of her formality.
He jerked his chin at Selburn. ‘What help can he possibly give you?’
‘His Grace has kindly agreed to allow me to take up residence at his house in Grand Parade.’
The statement locked everyone into shocked silence.
Finally Delia said, ‘Helen, you can’t do that! What will people say?’
‘Why would you leave this house?’ Lady Margaret demanded. ‘You are not even close to finishing your training.’
Helen ignored both women, her attention solely on the shock in Carlston’s eyes. ‘I am causing your illness, Lord Carlston.’
‘What makes you think that?’ He rapped out the question.
‘I think it started at my ball when I took half of the whip-energy that you absorbed from Philip. Neither of us released it into the earth, yet it seemed to dissipate. I do not believe it did. Somehow the energy has stayed within us. Over the past month I think it has been quickening the madness in you.’
‘Why is it not quickening in you then?’ he demanded.
‘God’s blood,’ Hammond said, the logic of her words plainly dawning upon him. ‘She has never reclaimed. She has no vestige darkness in her soul.’
Helen nodded. ‘But I still have the whip-energy within me. I think that I, particularly, store it like … like …’ How could she explain such a concept?
‘Like a Voltaic pile,’ Hammond supplied in wonderment.
‘What are you talking about, Michael?’ Lady Margaret said sharply.
‘An experiment I saw in London a few years ago, conducted by Mr Volta. He created energy in stacks of different metals.’ He addressed Helen. ‘It would make sense. The energy stays within you, until somehow, by some mechanism, it is passed to his lordship. The energy that is within him attracts that which is in you.’
Helen nodded, relieved that Hammond, at least, understood. ‘If I am near you, Lord Carlston, just in your vicinity, the energy slowly increases the spread of darkness in your soul.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘But if we touch, skin to skin, that is like a connection that brings on the rages, as if there is some kind of immediate transfer from me to you.’
The Duke’s head turned at that. ‘Skin to skin?’
Carlston pressed his fingertips to his mouth. She knew what he was remembering. She could feel the kiss upon her own lips: the heat, the dizzying exhilaration. The savage need.
‘Did you touch in the salon, the first time it happened?’ Lady Margaret asked tightly.
Helen looked at Carlston. ‘My jacket,’ she said.
His jaw shifted. ‘It was barely a touch.’
‘And the arc of power between you in the lane,’ Hammond said. ‘You took that Deceiver’s energy, Lady Helen, and then when his lordship touched you —’ He slapped his hands together, making Delia jump. ‘Bam!’
Carlston rubbed his forehead. ‘That, I remember.’
‘If all this is true, my lady,’ Darby said, ‘then it is even more important that we make the Terrene bond today.’
Carlston rounded on her. ‘Today?’
Quinn stepped in front of Darby. ‘After what happened in the lane, my lord, we thought it would be best if Lady Helen made the bond with her Terrene as soon as could be arranged.’
Carlston eyed Quinn’s blatant stance of protection. ‘I see.’
‘Perhaps if you and I could earth this energy within you, my lady,’ Darby began.
‘No, I will not bond with you,’ Helen said.