Page 82 of Bite at First Sight

Cassandra gripped the ramrod with a frown. She knew Rafe was nearby, patrolling the park with Vincent to make certain no one disturbed her lessons. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him watching her from somewhere in the shadows.

Apparently, Lydia could as well, for she called out, “Get on with you! She can’t concentrate with you hanging about and making her nervous!”

“You seemed to handle my supervision well enough.” Rafe’s voice whispered through the trees like warm wind. “Very well, I shall grant you ladies your privacy.”

Cassandra rounded on Lydia. “What did he mean by that?”

“Oh, he supervised Angelica while she mentored me when I was first Changed.” The countess shrugged. “Be careful with that powder, remember?”

Curiosity burned hotter than the gun’s barrel. “What was that like?”

“He was very surly at first. And he made me dreadfully nervous with the way he loomed over us in ominous silence as Angelica taught me how to hunt and move through the night.” Lydia chuckled and loaded her own pistol with deft fingers. “For the first few evenings he wouldn’t say a word. Only when the night’s lesson was finished would he offer cutting words of criticism…or a rare morsel of reluctant praise.”

Cassandra shook her head in sympathy. “That must have been a miserable experience.”

“It was beyond disheartening,” Lydia agreed, lifting her pistol, taking aim, and firing. The ball pierced the center of the pail clean through. “Despite that, I believe Rafe’s supervision truly helped me excel…though for the most part he only stood there scowling and radiating disapproval rivaling that of my former chaperone.”

A wave of sympathy infused Cassandra at the young vampire’s words. Rafe said Lydia had been Changed suddenly and without consent. She could not imagine such a drastic introduction to the preternatural world. “It must have been very difficult for you, being human one moment and waking up a vampire the next.”

“It was, though not nearly as miserable as sailing across the ocean after being orphaned only to be repudiated by my own kin.” Lydia sighed. “Vincent is my family now, and I have been more welcomed and respected in the vampire world than in my mortal life.”

Cassandra’s heart ached for her. Then a sudden thought made her frown in confusion. “Why didn’t Vincent mentor you? He was the one who Changed you.”

“Because he believed that I hated him for doing so,” Lydia said quietly. “His guilt was so pervasive that I had a devil of a time convincing him otherwise.”

“Oh my!” Cassandra breathed. Now the awkwardness between the couple before their sudden marriage made sense. Her heart clenched in sympathy. “I couldn’t imagine such a terrible misunderstanding.”

Lydia nodded. “Rafe was the one who cleared up that agonizing matter, which proves that he is not nearly as cold and heartless as he wishes to appear.”

A small smile played across Cassandra’s lips. “He never fooled me for an instant.”

“Who?” Rafe called from the distance before emerging from a copse of trees.

She didn’t bother to shout. Obviously he could hear her from where he was. “Never mind.” In an effort to hide her heated cheeks, she finished loading her gun.

He stalked closer, scowling at Lydia. “If that gun misfires…”

Before he could finish his warning, Cassandra aimed at the target and pulled the trigger. This time, she hit the pail, leaving a hole a few inches from the one Lydia made. A surge of primal triumph surged up from her toes.

“Huzzah!” Lydia shouted.

Cassandra grinned. “You may just make a marksman out of me yet.”

“It was a good shot,” Rafe said grudgingly. “All the same, don’t become overconfident and careless.”

Lydia raised her gaze heavenward. “Now you see what I had to endure.”

Cassandra attempted to laugh, but the pistol suddenly grew heavier in her grip. Rafe had a point. She was being taught to shoot vampires, not milk pails. To be careless could mean her death.

Twenty-seven

4 November, 1823

Rafe tapped his foot in impatience and resisted the urge to tug at his suffocating cravat. “Cristo, what is taking them so long? I want to get this damned ball over with.”

Vincent gave him a sympathetic smile. “As do I. You’d better remove that scowl from your face before we arrive at the Wentworths’ town house. We must do our best to pretend to enjoy ourselves or our suffering will be for naught.”

“Suffering is certainly the appropriate term for this. I only pray it is worth enduring.”

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