“I feel so much better,” Lydia said, dabbing her mouth prettily with a handkerchief. “Thank you, Lord Villar.”
As the four made their way out of the poor district, Rafe explained the situation with Clayton to Lord Deveril. He didn’t yet elaborate on the reasons for Cassandra’s presence under his roof. She pushed down a nervous tremor.
The earl shook his head. “I am not shocked in the least. I knew that foppish idiot would make mischief eventually. I’m only surprised that Ian never guessed his duplicity.”
Rafe sighed. “Ian had other business distracting him over the last few years… The folly was truly mine. I should have kept a sharper eye on him.”
“Hindsight is ever a demon,” Deveril said dryly. “Where is the confrontation to take place?”
“The Wilderness region in Vauxhall Gardens. That area is shut down this time of year, and the humans will be occupied in the main section with the fireworks display.”
Deveril nodded in satisfaction. “That seems to be the most reasonable choice, though it is a shame that it will be a setting for such a dismal event. Lydia and I quite enjoyed our last tour of Vauxhall.” He gave his wife a salacious smile. “Didn’t we, my love?”
Cassandra blinked in surprise at the realization that they were already approaching Burnrath House. She had been so engrossed in the vampires’ conversation that she hadn’t noticed how far they’d walked.
Anthony greeted them at the door to take their coats and shawls. “Thomas Wakley is waiting in the drawing room for Cassandra.” He reached in his pocket and withdrew two embossed envelopes. “And these arrived for you and Lord Deveril from the Duke of Wentworth.”
“Wentworth?” Rafe frowned as he took his envelope. “What the hell does he want?”
Vincent shrugged. “Let us see what Lady Rosslyn’s visitor wants first.”
Cassandra needed no further urging as she rushed to the drawing room.
Wakley rose from his seat and held out the newest issue of The Lancet with a smile. “I thought you’d want it fresh and warm from the press.”
Cassandra took the paper, mouth moving in wordless astonishment.
“It’s on the third page, under Anonymous.” He gave her a rueful look. “I wish I could have put your name down as the author, but you know what would have happened.”
She nodded, her disappointment diminished by the fact that she was now published in a medical journal. Her only regret was that she couldn’t shove the paper in the faces of those who’d mocked her.
Rafe placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him. “I’m so proud of you, Querida.”
Wakley gasped as he observed Rafe embracing her with his left arm. “You did it! By God, your operation worked!”
He strode over to the vampire, reaching out. “May I?”
Rafe raised his eyes heavenward but extended his arm slowly and with a pronounced tremor that only Cassandra and the other vampires knew was fabricated. There was no way Wakley could be allowed to know the supernatural extent of Rafe’s healing process.
The surgeon ran his hands up and down Rafe’s arm, murmuring in astonishment. “How far can you raise it? Can you make a fist?”
“I can lift it nearly to my shoulder.” Feigning weakness, he fumbled in his pocket for the leather ball Cassandra gave him. “And my hands are starting to work.”
Wakley rounded on Cassandra, still staring. “How did you do it?”
“I repaired the extensor carpi ulnaris. The rest of the issue appears to be atrophy, so I’ve been implementing a combination of exercise and massage.”
“Speaking of exercise…” Rafe addressed the doctor. “I believe you can help me in that.”
Wakley peered at him curiously. “How?”
“I understand you are a respected pugilist. I wonder if you could spar with me so I may learn how to use my left arm in a match.”
The doctor gaped. “Do you mean you learned to box after the injury?”
Rafe nodded. “I did not want to be seen as a weak cripple.”
“And you’re among the most renowned pugilists in the city,” Wakley said softly. “However, as much as I’m tempted by the opportunity to face off with such an infamous fighter, I fear that boxing so soon after your operation may damage your arm. The stitches can hardly even be healed yet.” He turned back to Cassandra. “And you still haven’t described the exact details of the surgery.”