Patrick frowned. “Gwen, we can’t stay here. If word gets around that your brother has returned, he won’t be safe.”
She was still skeptical that the attack on Liam originated from her family, but she agreed to take Liam elsewhere while she taught him what he needed to know about her family. Blackstone College had a second campus where they raised horses and students learned how to manufacture various antitoxin serums.
“It’s summer, so the dormitory will be empty,” Gwen said. “We can be alone out there while we work with Liam on all aspects of the family and bank business.”
“Where is this other campus?” Patrick asked with a sinking heart. Back home, his mother was still too weak to return to work, and his rent was due in six days. It was time to return to the obligations of his normal life, but Gwen clearly expected his help mentoring Liam.
“It’s in Queens,” she said. “Remember? It’s the place where we make the tetanus serums.”
Guilt gnawed at him. If it hadn’t been for Gwen and that serum, his mother would be dead right now, and he hadn’t been able to pay a dime toward her treatment.
“It is agreed, then?” she asked. “We can take the nine-o’clock train to Queens tomorrow morning and stay at the student dormitory.”
Liam wore a bewildered expression as he met Patrick’s gaze. “What do you think?”
Liam had been acting strangely all evening. The confident swagger and headstrong opinions were gone. Now he was out of his depth and uncertain, constantly leaning on Patrick for advice. For better or for worse, Patrick was the only person Liam trusted in this new and unfamiliar world.
But Liam would need to start trusting Gwen. She could get him spiffed up before meeting his family, because there was no way Liam Malone would have credibility with the Blackstones in his current rough state.
“I think retreating to Queens is a good plan for you,” he said to Liam.
“Excellent!” Gwen said. “We can leave in the morning.”
Liam nodded, and Patrick had to help him stand. It took him a while to get Liam settled in one of the bedrooms, but when Patrick returned to the parlor, Gwen was waiting for him.
“Can I speak with you for a moment?” he asked her.
Her eyes softened as she stepped closer to him. “Of course.”
Even her voice sounded softer, and he dreaded what was about to happen.
“Patrick?” she asked, touching his arm. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”
It was impossible to meet her eyes as he spoke. “I can’t go with you tomorrow. I need to get back to the Lower East Side and my other clients.”
“But we need you.” She sounded hurt. “I don’t think Liam even understands what an investment bank is. How can he earn my grandfather’s confidence if he is completely ignorant of finance and corporate law? You can tutor him.”
“Aren’t there any professors at the college who can teach him what he needs to know?”
She shook her head. “We have scientists and physicians, not modern-day warriors who do battle with banks and the corporate world. That’s you! You’re the perfect person to teach Liam what he needs to know.”
Patrick hated this, but he needed to be blunt since she didn’t seem to understand. “Gwen, I can’t afford to help you.”
“Is it money you need?” She seemed surprised, which only underscored the gulf between them. Someone in her situation probably never worried about making rent or scrounging to pay for a bottle of medicine, but he couldn’t afford to ignore it.
“I’m not a greedy person, but I can’t go weeks without an income. I’ve already lost too much time in Pittsburgh, and I need to get back to work.” It was humiliating, but he’d probably have to borrow from Mrs. O’Shea to pay his rent next week.
“Money won’t be a problem,” Gwen said. “I’ll pay whatever rate you typically charge. A thousand dollars a week?”
“I need my dignity, Gwen. The going rate for a lawyer like me is $250 a week.”
“Then I’ll pay you $250 a week,” she said, reaching out to grasp his forearms. “Patrick, I’m floundering and I need help. I need you.”
The plea wormed its way beneath all his defenses. He wanted her to need him, but his bigger worry was that Gwen didn’t seem to realize the danger Liam was in. She might believe only sweetness and light about her family, but he suspected one of them wanted Liam dead. And if Gwen was with Liam when a second attempt on his life happened . . . well, it was unthinkable. He needed to be nearby to protect them both. Taking money from her would be galling, but he couldn’t afford to turn it down.
“All right, I’ll take $250 a week, and I’m afraid I need an advance on it so I can pay the rent.” He couldn’t even meet her eyes and instead stared at a spot on the floor. Until this moment, he’d always felt like an equal with Gwen. Now he was a supplicant, and he hated it.
But he loved her enough to endure it. This was probably only the first of many times his pride was going to be tested by daring to fall in love with a Blackstone.
23
By noon the following day, they were aboard a first-class compartment on a train carrying them to Queens. Gwen watched Liam’s expression as he took in the polished cherrywood paneling and the burgundy velvet covering the seats. Patrick and Liam sat on one side of the table while she faced them from the opposite bench.
Retreating to the empty dormitory on the Queens campus would give her the time she needed to teach Liam gentlemanly comportment and provide insight into their family history. She wanted to get along with him, but he made it tough. As soon as the train started moving, he bombarded her with rude questions.
“How come you dress like that?” he asked, gesturing to her loose-fitting silk duster that matched the saffron gown underneath.
“This is a very fashionable ensemble,” she defended.
“It looks too big. Same with the getup you wore yesterday. Why don’t you buy clothes that fit?”
Patience. Liam wasn’t very worldly or he would know that loose, artistic gowns were the height of fashion among liberated women. “This is how many women in my circle dress,” she said. “All the pre-Raphaelite models in Europe wear gowns like this.”
Liam snorted. “You’d think fancy models could afford to buy clothes that fit. It looks like you’ve got a bun in the oven.”
She quirked an annoyed brow. “I gather you are implying I appear to be in an expectant state?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Liam said. “My uncle Mick would say you look ‘a wee bit knocked up.’”
Patrick struggled not to laugh, which bothered her even more. Whose side was he on? Liam needed to learn he couldn’t go about insulting a woman’s appearance.
“The free-flowing gowns I wear are comfortable and the height of fashion among the artistic set. And I’d like to suggest that your uncle Mick isn’t the best role model for you.”
Everything from Liam’s clothes to his deportment and blunt manner of speaking were a disaster. The stewards and porters on the train all dressed and behaved with more refinement than Liam. They blended seamlessly into this sophisticated world, but Liam didn’t. His hair was too long, he didn’t remove his cap inside buildings, and didn’t know the rules of polite dining.