“I understand that,” I said evenly. “You want to know your daughter will be taken care of.”
“Exactly.”
“That she won’t have to struggle.”
“Precisely.”
I nodded slowly, letting the moment settle. “That’s why you’ve been sizing me up all through lunch. Trying to work out whether the Warren family is good enough for the Bradfords.”
The table went completely silent. Patricia’s hand froze mid-air, her wine glass suspended.
“I wouldn’t put it quite so bluntly,” Richard said carefully.
“How would you put it?”
He cleared his throat, buying himself a second. “I think it’s only natural to want to understand the family your child is marrying into. Their values. Their resources. Their standing.”
“Their standing,” I repeated slowly. “And you’ve already determined we don’t have much of it.”
Jessica looked mortified, her cheeks coloring. “Mr. Warren, my parents didn’t mean—”
