The harsh refusal pushed Darby backward a step, her sturdy body swaying as if she had been hit. ‘But, my lady —’
‘It is no longer possible.’
Darby’s face was so stricken, it was almost as hard as denying Carlston. She looked at Quinn, a moment of shared bewilderment.
‘But we must bond, my lady,’ she said. ‘You must have a Terrene.’
Helen curled her fists into balls of resolve. She could not give the real reason for her refusal — her deal with Pike. ‘I want you to stay with Lord Carlston and Quinn. That is my decision. Stay with Quinn. You and he should be together.’
Darby drew herself up. ‘My lady, I go where you go.’
‘Not this time, Darby. I do not wish you to accompany me.’ She looked away from the brimming hurt in Darby’s blue eyes. ‘I go to the Duke’s house as Mr Amberley. I do not need a maid.’
‘Then I will dress as a man and go as your valet!’
‘I said no, Darby. Do as you are told.’
She heard Darby’s breath catch, the sob hastily quelled, but she dared not look into her maid’s face.
‘You cannot go alone to his house,’ Carlston said.
‘Do not ascribe your base impulses to me,’ the Duke said. ‘Lady Helen will be in no danger. She will be safer in my house than here.’
‘I must not be near you, Lord Carlston,’ Helen said.
‘You do not have to go. I will go. I have my own lodgings.’
‘You can barely walk,’ Helen said. ‘You need time to recover — far away from me, with those who can help you.’
The reason did not hold up under scrutiny — he could, after all, recover in his own lodgings — but she could not stay in the house with those who might stop her from her purpose.
Carlston plainly saw the reason for what it was: an excuse. He glanced at Selburn, his mouth tightening. Faith, he thought she was doing this to be with the Duke. Helen knitted her fingers together, fighting the impulse to correct the sordid assumption.
‘Lady Helen is right,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘You need to recover properly.’
‘If you are intent upon going, Lady Helen, allow me to accompany you,’ Mr Hammond said. ‘It will be my honour.’
‘You cannot go, Michael,’ Lady Margaret said. ‘Lord Carlston needs you here.’
‘Do not make yourself anxious, Lady Margaret,’ the Duke said coolly. ‘My invitation does not extend to your brother, or you, for that matter. I have heard about you from Mr Pike and you must excuse me if I do not invite thieves and …’ he paused and shrugged, ‘into my house.’
Hammond stiffened. ‘Thieves?’
‘Michael,’ Lady Margaret warned. ‘This is not the time.’
‘Surely you cannot object to me, Your Grace?’ Delia said hurriedly. ‘I am Lady Helen’s aide, after all.’
The Duke bowed. ‘Miss Cransdon, you are of course welcome.’ He addressed Helen. ‘At present, I do not have a suitable chaperone in my house for a young lady. If you wish, I can make those arrangements, but it will take some time. Or perhaps Miss Cransdon can also take up a male guise?’
Helen looked away from Delia’s determined face. ‘It will not be necessary.’
She did not want her friend anywhere near Lowry, or the danger that would come with the Ligatus once she had retrieved it. And if she were brutally honest, Delia was, at present, more liability than asset.
Carlston straightened, tentatively releasing his grip upon the sideboard. ‘This is all predicated upon your suspicions being correct, Lady Helen, but I am not convinced. I insist we put it to the test.’
‘No!’ Lady Margaret rose abruptly from the sofa again. ‘It is too dangerous!’
‘My sister is correct, sir,’ Hammond said, crossing to Carlston’s side. ‘I believe Lady Helen has hit upon the truth and you will put yourself, and all of us, in danger.’
‘We will go to the salon then,’ Carlston replied. ‘Just Lady Helen, Quinn and myself. At this moment, they will have no trouble containing me if this theory is correct.’
‘I will go too,’ the Duke said.
‘No, Your Grace!’ Delia said. ‘If Lord Carlston attacks anyone in that room, it will be you.’
‘Miss Cransdon is right,’ Carlston said. ‘Come into that room, Selburn, and I’ll attack you. Whether I am affected or not.’
The two men stared at one another.
Carlston drew back his shoulders, his eyes moving to Helen. Entreating. ‘I need to know. Surely you do as well? I ask you as a fellow Reclaimer. Let us know the truth.’
Helen nodded. She knew she should leave with the Duke immediately, but she could not ignore Carlston’s plea.
The salon was lit by a mellow wash of afternoon sunlight, a glitter of dust motes rising as Helen and Carlston made their way into the centre of the long room.
‘This will do,’ Carlston said. He turned slowly in a circle. ‘Enough empty space for … whatever happens.’
Helen looked away from the cut on his lip, the bruise upon his jaw. The damage that she had already inflicted.
‘Do you remember how I stopped you attacking the Duke?’ she asked.
‘No, I do not.’
She held up her fist. ‘It seems the only way is to render you unconscious. You will lose control, and I do not want to hit you again. Please, Lord Carlston, let us return to the drawing room.’
‘Just Carlston,’ he corrected gently. He touched the bruise upon his jaw. ‘We do what we have to do.’
A clatter from the weapons table drew their attention. Quinn grimaced an apology and picked up the dropped knife to pass it to Hammond — the last weapon to be collected.
‘I will be outside,’ Hammond said. He gave one last look at Helen, his unhappiness echoing her own, then left the room. Quinn shut the doors behind him, the stiff line of his shoulders registering his disapproval of the whole affair.
‘Lock the doors, Quinn,’ Carlston ordered.
The Terrene obeyed, then turned to join them, but Helen lifted her hand, stopping him. ‘Wait.’ She had to tell Carlston about her visit from Stokes. He had to be warned.
She turned away from Quinn, the move drawing Carlston around too. ‘I did not want to say this in front of the Duke,’ she said, her voice pitched for privacy. ‘He does not have your best interests at heart.’
‘Quite,’ Carlston said, matching her dry tone.
‘Stokes found me today. Pike has written to Lord Sidmouth to request a warrant. For your death.’
Carlston hissed out a breath. ‘Already? The man is irritatingly efficient.’
‘He believes you are irretrievable. Like Benchley.’
‘I am not quite there, yet.’
‘You should leave,’ Helen said. ‘You and Quinn. Maybe even Lady Margaret and Mr Hammond. Go back to the Continent.’
‘You would have me run away?’
‘To save your life — your sanity — yes. Stokes believes Lord Sidmouth will give his approval; and the further you are away from me, the better chance you have of retaining some sanity.’