Of course Hammond and Lady Margaret would follow him, but what could they hope to do?
‘Why is Carlston taking it to d’Antraigues?’ the Duke asked. ‘Isn’t the man a French spy?’
‘He is also a Deceiver,’ Helen said. ‘He has offered Lord Carlston a cure and information about the Grand Deceiver in return for information in the journal.’ She turned to Darby. ‘Did Quinn go with his lordship?’
‘Of course, my lady.’
At least he had his Terrene by his side.
‘Mr Quinn said if you were to wake in time, to bring help,’ Darby added. ‘He doesn’t think he and you will be enough to stop his lordship this time.’
Helen met her maid’s solemn gaze and nodded, acknowledging the gravity of Quinn’s admission. ‘How long ago did Lord Carlston leave?’
‘At least half an hour,’ Delia said.
‘I must leave now.’ Helen swung her legs off the sofa, gritting her teeth as the world swung, then settled.
‘You can’t go after him, you are not well enough,’ the Duke protested. ‘Besides, you won’t have a chance of catching him in a carriage. Carlston is driving a curricle, and he has his own horses at the posting houses.’
He was right: she needed a light equipage and good, fast horses. A plan was beginning to form; not ideal, but she could see no alternative.
‘Am I right in thinking you also have your own horses stabled along one of the London roads, Your Grace?’
She knew he did; prime horseflesh, famously bred and matched for speed.
‘On the Hickstead–Croydon Road,’ he said. His jaw shifted. ‘You will go after him come what may, won’t you?’
‘I must.’
The Duke ran his fingers through his hair. ‘What is it about this journal that makes it so dangerous?’
‘It is part of a heinous creation called a Trinitas that can open the gates to Hell,’ Helen said curtly, pressing her booted feet against the ground. Her legs seemed sound enough.
‘Glory be,’ Sprat whispered. She shifted closer to Darby.
Helen looked up from the test of her legs. She should have sent Sprat from the room at the first mention of the Deceivers. Well, too late now.
‘Are you serious?’ the Duke demanded. ‘You mean Hell?’
Helen looked at him squarely; he needed to see the truth in her face. ‘If you call opening a way for more Deceivers to pour into our world a hell, then yes, Hell. A Trinitas can also be used to kill every Reclaimer across the world. Either way, it will bring death and chaos to humanity.’
Delia crossed herself.
The Duke regarded her gravely. ‘My own curricle and teams are at your disposal, Lady Helen. With one proviso: I will drive them. I know my horses and how hard they can be pushed.’
She stood. The room, thankfully, stayed still. ‘I did not want to drag you into this, but I will take the offer gladly.’
She caught his arm and squeezed it in thanks. He froze for an instant, then flushed, the pleasure tucking his chin against his cravat.
The door opened and Hammond strode into the room, buttoning his greatcoat. ‘We are ready to go, Miss Cransdon.’ At the sight of Helen, the determination on his face softened into a smile. ‘You are recovered. Thank God!’ His delight sobered. ‘You have heard what has happened?’
‘I have.’ Helen crossed to him and gripped his shoulder. ‘How bad was he this time, Mr Hammond?’
He lowered his voice. ‘The worst I have seen. I think the only thing that is holding him in any sort of sanity is the promise of d’Antraigues’s cure.’
‘The Duke and I are going after him,’ Helen said.
‘The Duke?’ It was a protest.
‘He has offered his horses and driving skill,’ she said under her breath. ‘It is my best chance to get there in time. Remember, the Comte is not the only Deceiver in that house. The valet is too. I am not sure Lord Carlston could defeat one in his current state, let alone two. And if they have the reserves to build whips …’ She shook her head.
‘Miss Cransdon says Carlston has at least a half-hour start on us,’ the Duke said. ‘Is that correct?’
‘More or less,’ Hammond said coldly.
‘We shall take my teams of four. It will give us the best chance of reaching London at the same time as Carlston.’
‘You are going to drive four-in-hand at night?’ Hammond pursed his lips in soundless appreciation. ‘You may even catch him before he gets to London.’
The Duke looked at Helen. ‘I will send Jackson, my tiger, back to my stables with the order. We can be on the road in fifteen minutes.’
‘We cannot leave quite yet,’ she said. ‘I have to get help. Reclaimer help.’
‘What do you mean?’ Hammond frowned, the answer clearly coming hard upon his question. ‘Stokes! Are you mad?’ He spread his hands at the impossibility. ‘You cannot ask him for help. Pike has ordered him to kill Carlston.’
The Duke straightened. ‘What?’
Hammond groaned, realising his mistake.
‘Pike considers Lord Carlston irretrievably mad and has requested a warrant for his execution,’ Helen said, unable to keep the challenge from her voice. She regarded the Duke through narrowed eyes. Would he make the mistake of showing accord with that decision?
The Duke merely nodded.
She addressed Hammond. ‘Pike’s dispatch was only sent yesterday. The warrant cannot have been issued yet. Besides, Stokes told me to go to him if I ever needed help.’
‘It is a fine line you are treading,’ Hammond said. ‘Are you sure Stokes will tread it too?’
Helen had to concede her doubt. Even so, she had been treading a fine line ever since Pike had set them on the path of finding the journal. Perhaps ever since she had met Lord Carlston.
‘I am not sure of anything except that Stokes is a man of honour and I cannot stop Lord Carlston by myself.’
Hammond hissed an expletive through his teeth. ‘Do you even know where the man lives?’
She nodded; she at least knew that.
The brisk motion of the Duke’s gig down Marine Parade cleared the last echoes of the journal from Helen’s body. It was just past one thirty in the morning, the moon high and brilliant, capping the waves on the beach with silver and lighting the road and townhouses in bright relief. The Duke had already sent his man Jackson to ready the racing curricle for the drive to London. Now all Helen had to do was find Stokes and persuade him to come with them.