Ironically, Rafe had gotten on well with Tremayne’s new bride after Vincent had been forced to illegally Change her and Ian had been forced to place Vincent under arrest until he could face an inquest from the Elders. Rafe had needed to supervise Lydia while Angelica taught her to hunt. He’d been greatly impressed with how well she adjusted to the Change. She possessed almost enough courage and intelligence to match Cassandra’s.
After hearing testimony from Ian, Angelica, and Rafe, Vincent had been exonerated, to everyone’s relief, including Rafe’s. Though he and Vincent hadn’t gotten along, he respected the Lord of Cornwall…and he genuinely liked Lydia.
Perhaps it would be best to contact Lydia first. Rafe shook his head, immediately rejecting the idea. Vincent was unlikely to take kindly to another vampire consorting with his wife. Rafe couldn’t blame him. Glancing over at Cassandra, he lit on an idea.
“Querida, do you remember Angelica’s friend Lydia?”
She raised a brow at the change in subject. “Are you speaking of the American who was the Earl of Deveril’s ward before becoming his wife?”
Rafe nodded. That had been a debacle he would not soon forget.
Cassandra eyed him curiously. “Yes, I remember Lydia. A brilliant girl, not the usual featherheaded ninny one expects of a debutante…and her match with Lord Deveril was so romantic.” She paused and frowned. “They are vampires also, aren’t they?”
He smiled at her astute conclusion. “Yes, though Lydia wasn’t one of us until Lord Deveril, who is also the Lord of Cornwall, Changed her without permission from the Elders. She’d been attacked by a cutthroat and would have died if he hadn’t.”
“Ah, so that was why Deveril married her.” A note of disappointment tinged her voice.
Rafe answered firmly. “He married her because he loves her.” Shame pricked his soul at how he had at first scorned Vincent for it. He sighed and handed her a piece of parchment. “Anyhow, I would like you to write to Lydia…and I will include a message for Lord Deveril.”
She took the paper and reached for a quill, looking perplexed. “I am happy to do so, but what would you like me to say?”
“Tell her that you are under my care at Burnrath House. That should make it clear that you are privy to our world.” He thought carefully. “And say that you hope she and her husband accept my invitation to stay here for the little season.”
Cassandra dipped the quill. “Are you asking the Lord of Cornwall to help you fight Clayton?” At Rafe’s nod, she continued, “Why are you initiating this request through me?”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I wasn’t exactly the model of kindness during Vincent’s situation with Lydia. If I sent him a letter directly, I would not be surprised if he tore it up unread.”
The corner of her mouth curved in a half smile. “I see. Would you care to elaborate?”
“No.”
Her smile spread as she began to write. Rafe retrieved his own quill, racking his mind about what exactly to say.
Cassandra finished long before he’d penned an opening salutation.
She rose from her chair and walked over to his side of the desk. “Perhaps the words will come better if I leave you in peace.” She kissed him on the cheek and left the study.
After what felt like an eternity, Rafe finally scratched out a few curt sentences. With a sigh, he folded the letter along with Cassandra’s. He had never been known for eloquence.
He sealed the envelope and brought it downstairs for Anthony to deliver.
“What did Blackpool have to say?” Anthony asked as soon as Rafe found him in the library.
He shook his head. “He won’t Change Cassandra, but he said he is on his way here to assist me with Clayton.”
Anthony blinked in surprise. “How did he know?”
“Someone told him, but I haven’t the faintest idea who.” Rafe handed him the envelope. “Could you see that this is delivered to the Lord of Cornwall immediately?”
“Certainly. Do you think he will fight for you? I hear his new bride is a crack shot with a pistol.”
“I do not know.”
Mrs. Smythe entered the room, giving Anthony a curious glance before curtsying to Rafe and presenting a tray holding another letter. “This just came for you, Don Villar.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smythe.” After she left, he glanced at the seal with surprise. “It’s from the Lord of Rochester.”
Anthony stroked his chin. “Interesting.”