Page 100 of A Symphony for the Earl

“That is Kilbeggan whiskey. I brought a case from Dublin. More character, I think, than what you get from Norfolk. It’s nice to see an Englishman who enjoys his whiskey, rather than the French brandy most here seem to fawn over. I’ll send a few bottles to Merrick House if you like.”

That seemed like a step in the right direction. Richard tossed back the rest of the glass and set it down. “I would appreciate that.”

Gerald Rafferty sipped his drink slowly and studied the large emerald he wore on his right hand. “So, what subject compels your honesty, Lord Seldon? I’m guessing it’s Fiona Kathleen.” The soft lilt of Ireland lent his voice a musicality much like his daughter’s. “I suspect there is more to the story of your betrothal than you’ve told me.”

“There is. I discovered I was your daughter’s guardian on the day she arrived. My solicitor’s letter had been misplaced, so when she landed in my care, it took me thoroughly by surprise. I like a certain order in my family’s life and in my own. Your daughter—”

“Oh, I’m sure she caused plenty of chaos. Fiona has a way of stirring things up.”

“She does indeed,” he murmured. “At first, I was rather…overbearing, I’m afraid.”

“And I’m guessing that did not go so well?”

“No, it didn’t. We were quite at odds. So, imagine my predicament when I soon found myself attracted to your daughter.”

Rafferty cast a sharp look in his direction. “And was she attracted to you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “The chemistry was there, but we argued so much…I don’t think Fiona knew her feelings yet, and then there was my role as her guardian standing between us. That was…problematic.”

“Aye, that’s the part I have trouble understanding. She was your legal ward, under your protection; your duties lay in presenting her to society and finding her a suitable husband. That opportunity was denied to Fiona when you chose her yourself.”

He shifted uncomfortably, unable to deny Rafferty’s succinct summary of the situation.

“You did the pursuing. Isn’t that the case, Lord Seldon? My daughter, vivacious as she might be, would never make overtures to a gentleman.”

Richard wished again he had fashioned a less restrictive cravat. God, was he sweating? “No, she did not do that.”

“I’ve heard of your reputation, Lord Seldon, and while I wouldn’t exactly label you a rake, you’ve achieved a bit of notoriety in your choice of mistresses.” Rafferty steepled his fingers. “Let’s see…an exotic Russian countess, a promising opera singer, a breathtaking widow—what drew you to my socially inexperienced and awkwardly outspoken daughter?”

Of course, Rafferty had done his research. Hadn’t Richard investigated Valentina’s suitor? He wondered if this conversation could be any more excruciating. “I have been fortunate in my…romantic liaisons. But, as I’m sure you know, I’ve never offered marriage to a woman, though the number of prospects paraded before me has been exponential.”

“Are you saying you are in love with Fiona? Passionately in love, as a man should be with the woman he is about to marry? She told me yesterday she loved you and wanted the marriage, but I heard nothing like that from you.”

“I love her.” Richard sensed he was foundering. “But every accusation you made contains some element of truth. My duty was to shield her from men like myself, but it was increasingly difficult to keep my feelings in check. I knew they were inappropriate, and I thought I had sufficient control of my emotions. Then, a certain incident forced me to take action and propose.”

Rafferty leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Which was…”

“I let my desires get the better of me and kissed your daughter at a party in a secluded greenhouse. We were discovered by two denizens of the ton. Your daughter was on the verge of ruin.”

“All this fuss for a kiss?” he scowled. “Am I completely out of touch with London society?”

“It was a bit more than a kiss.” Richard’s cheeks grew warm. “I announced we were engaged to repair the damage, and convinced Fiona that we needed to marry to save her reputation. But I worried that I’d coerced her into an engagement; that it was infatuation on her part, and she would regret the marriage later. Your words only reinforced that fear.”

“Well, that was foolish. As if my daughter could be led into anything she didn’t want! You don’t know Fiona very well, do you? If she says she loves you, that’s the truth of it. It sounds like both of you let assumptions fly instead of talking.” He tossed off the rest of his glass and poured another whiskey. “And now you’re buggered, it looks like.”

Richard’s heart sank. He had gambled on revealing everything, and the outcome appeared none too certain.

Rafferty looked over curiously. “Why did you cry off at the first sign of my displeasure? You should have fought harder for her and consigned me to the devil.”

“The English aren’t born with the same bravado as Irishmen,” Richard answered dryly. “We’re cursed with excessive pride—stiff-necked, damnable pride. I was too proud to back down from my decision once I said it.”

“All this makes me wonder if you can be trusted with my daughter’s happiness, even if I could look past your errors in judgment.”

“Mr. Rafferty, I love Fiona with every fiber, every breath of my body. She has changed my life for the better and brought joy and music into my home. If you refuse permission, I will spend every day of my life convincing you to change your mind. It’s taken me longer than it should to realize I want your daughter, but I can be a relentless adversary. Take her to Ireland or Timbuktu and I will follow.”

Gerald Rafferty rose and walked to the bay window that overlooked Holcomb Street. He was silent for what seemed an eternity.

For the first time, Richard contemplated failure and what that would mean. A lackluster life, a house bereft of music. An emptiness that could never be filled. He closed his eyes momentarily, resisting a wave of despair.