Not trusting his words, Rafe could only nod.
“And I suspect your interest in my Victoria to be motivated by this fact?”
“To a one, the men pursuing your daughter are unashamed fortune-hunters,” Rafe said firmly.
“And you do not count yourself among their numbers?”
“I do not.” The lie was bitter, but he had to sell it. He had to be convincing.
Mr. Rockford raised a questioning brow.
“Miss Rockford is more than a purse. She is more than an heiress.”
“Is she?” Her father sounded skeptical. “I did not bring her here to find a husband. My aim was not to buy a titlefor her. I know wealthy Americans are doing this now—I have friends who have done it for their daughters, for God’s sake!—but I am not that man. I couldn’t care less about the color of her future husband’s blood, so long as she is happy.” Their eyes met squarely, unflinchingly. “Of all the men who’ve danced attendance upon her, who’ve escorted her around the many ballrooms, who’ve called at our house,youare the one she seems most comfortable with. Happiest.”
Rafe’s heart stuttered in a most unexpected way.
After a pause, Mr. Rockford said, “I would like to hear why you believe there is more to my daughter than the money she might bring to a marriage.”
“She is witty and charming,” Rafe began with full honesty, surprised that he did not have to craft an appropriate response. Miss Rockford was, indeed, both of those things, and more. “She is outspoken, but not brash. She is unafraid of laughter. I have yet to witness a hint of cruelty from her; only the most refreshing honesty. Miss Rockford is different from any other woman of my acquaintance.”
Mr. Rockford’s eyes danced across Rafe’s face, examining every one of his features and even his posture for the truth. Rafe did not squirm. Nothing he’d said had been a falsehood, and that bolstered his confidence.
He narrowed his gaze at Rafe and asked, “Nothing about her looks? Is she not attractive?”
Rafe nearly swallowed his tongue. He hadn’t thought to describe Miss Rockford’s loveliness to her own father. “Of course—That is—She is—” He stammered uncharacteristically until he was finally saved by a great, booming laugh from the American.
“Don’t have a fit, Blackwood!” Mr. Rockford slapped his own thigh in amusement, and his mount snorted in response.
Rafe exhaled his anxiety and tried again. “Miss Rockford is a lovely young woman.”
“That she is. And it will take the right man to partner her.” He looked Rafe up and down again. “She comes from solid, hardy stock. Generations of her family have worked the docks and ships. Her grandfather was captain of a vessel. I spent my life on or near the water; she and my son have done the same.”
“Are you saying this to warn me off?” Rafe cocked a brow.
“I am telling you the bald truth of it,” he replied frankly. “Not a drop of noble blood can be found in our lineage. We are a new breed of aristocrat, Viscount Blackwood. My family earned their place in the world through blood and sweat, ingenuity and sheer determination. Thus far, England has not always treated my daughter with the respect she is due. I suspect your intentions and, if I am reading them accurately, then I must know that you are a man who is willing to stand for her when your peers will not; I must know that you see her as more than a woman who might refill your coffers to overflowing.”
“Do you have this conversation with every man who speaks to your daughter?”
“No. No, I do not.”
Rafe met his eyes.
“I invited you to join me today because you’ve struck me as a man who enjoys my daughter’s company in more than just the superficial capacity. I also believe she feels the same about you.” Why did that make Rafe’s pulse trip? “Frankly, I liked your answers earlier.” He seemed to pause for effect. “There is more to my daughter than her family’s fortune, and what you said showed me that you’ve seen that. You could have spouted pretty words or flattered me as her father, but you did not.
“The fact remains that you require funds. While Victoria certainly has them, I suspect that the two of you have the potential for so much more than a transactional arrangement.”
A large part of Rafe chafed at that assessment. Everything about the conversation was making him uncomfortable, as ifevery part of his clothing had been doused in powdered starch, causing his skin to itch and burn. Not only was he discomfited by Mr. Rockford’s interpretation of Rafe’s relationship with his daughter, but also by the other man’s belief that Rafe was even capable of forming an attachment above the superficial. A great deal of faith bled from those words, and Rafe didn’t know if he’d ever had someone say such a thing to him—especially not when the stakes were so high.
It took Rafe several tries to swallow past the thick knot in his throat. Finally, he said, “And you are saying—”
“That you are earning my permission to court my daughter officially,” the American spoke over him. To Rafe, his tone was too light for the import of the decision he’d just announced; it did not match the weight of the impact it was about to have on Rafe’s world. “I wish to have the opportunity to know you better first, but I will give you my blessing if I find it appropriate. I say we meet again tomorrow for another ride, partake another of these chats, and, if all goes well, then I am hopeful my daughter will be amenable to your suit.” He paused again before warning, “This is a privilege I’ve never allowed. Do not make me regret it.”
“I do not intend to.” The pounding of Rafe’s blood was like the roar of a furious ocean in his ears.
“Did you trulygo riding with Papa yesterday morning?” Victoria had caught Viscount Blackwood’s sleeve and quite literally yanked him out the door and onto the back terrace of the Mayfair home where she and her family had been invited to attend a poetry reading. It wasn’t something that had ever been of any particular interest to her before, but she’d come to expect Blackwood’s appearance at any event she attended, and it was the only socially acceptable way she could all but guarantee seeing him.
“Lord, but don’t you have a powerful grip?” the man groused dramatically, brushing at his coat and affecting a dandified carriage he knew would make it difficult for her to maintain a straight face.
