That became evident when a porter wheeled a slim cart to their compartment to deliver a light breakfast. Liam reached over to help the porter unload the cart, grabbing a pair of teacups.
“I can do that, sir,” the porter said, looking uncomfortable as Liam reached for a basket of bread and handed it to Patrick.
“Let the man do his job,” Patrick said quietly.
Liam froze for a moment, then nodded, his face flushed with embarrassment as the porter efficiently set silverware, folded cloth napkins, and a tea service on the table. The porter gave a slight bow of his head, which seemed to make Liam intensely uncomfortable, before sliding the panel shut with a whisper-smooth glide of the door.
Gwen draped the cloth napkin on her lap, but Liam tucked it into the collar of his shirt. Patrick also placed his napkin on his lap. Would Liam notice? He didn’t appear to as he reached for a slice of bread and began buttering it.
“Patrick, will you lead us in a blessing?” she asked.
“Certainly.” Patrick bowed his head and said a few words.
Liam paused but didn’t put his buttered knife down during the blessing.
Gwen led an unconventional life, but at least she knew where the boundaries were. Liam didn’t. He cursed like a sailor, ate with the gusto of a starved dog, and had no qualms about insulting people. She needed to use this time in Queens to transform him into a gentleman who could hold his own among her family.
She waited until everyone had tea before beginning her first lesson. “You need to understand the structure of the bank and the Blackstone finances.”
Liam set his cup down with a clank. “Shoot,” he said.
“Our grandfather founded the Blackstone Bank, and both his sons helped manage the investments. Uncle Oscar took to it like a duck to water, but my father never did. He wanted to do something good with the family fortune. Eventually, my father created—”
“Our father,” Liam corrected.
She nodded. “Our father created Blackstone College. His initial investment wasn’t enough to sustain the college, and our grandfather agreed to support the college until it could turn a profit. My father chose to invest most of our revenue into additional scientific research, which means we aren’t yet self-sufficient and still depend on those annual gifts.”
Liam appeared disinterested as he kept wolfing down tea biscuits. “Why don’t you pay for it? You’re rich.”
She was, but even if she donated her entire fortune, the college would burn through it within three years. Their overseas research initiatives and laboratories were shockingly expensive, and they wouldn’t be able to balance their budget until they patented their serums and vaccines, which might take decades.
In the meantime, the bank continued supporting them, and she did her best to help the college trim its expenses. She taught botany classes and managed the greenhouse for free. She hosted charity auctions and sold rare plants from the greenhouse. It helped, but it was only a drop in the huge, voracious hole in the college’s balance sheet.
“I don’t have enough money to keep the college afloat,” she said simply.
“How much did you inherit when our father died?” Liam asked with his mouth full.
“A lot, but not enough to run the college. I need my uncle to reverse his decision to stop funding the college, and you can help with that.”
Liam leaned back on the bench and met her gaze. “Cut to the chase. I want to know how much you inherited and what part I’ll get.”
Well, that was blunt. She wasn’t accustomed to such frank speaking, but he had a right to know. “Twelve million,” she said, watching Liam’s jaw drop. “You might get half.”
He recovered quickly. “Might? What’s stopping me from getting half?”
“Me.”
It was time to fight for the college, and she would be as blunt and aggressive as Liam. He still didn’t understand the realities of his legal situation, so she would spell it out.
“Our father had two huge assets: his partnership in the bank and his personal estate. The bank’s operating agreement dictated that his shares could only go to the nearest living male relative, so they went to Uncle Oscar. His personal estate was another matter. He had complete freedom to dispose of his estate however he chose, and he left every dime of it to me. He left no provision for you.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed, and he lifted his chin. “And you’re cutting me out of it.”
“I haven’t said so.” Her father would have wanted her to split the estate with Liam, and she would, but she refused to show all her cards at once. Liam was about to become a very powerful man, and they needed to cooperate with each other. “I know what Father would have wanted. He was a great man and would want me to give you half . . . provided that you use your shares in the bank to support the college.”
Liam studied her as silence stretched between them. “So that’s how it’s going to be. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours.”
“That’s one way of putting it. I’d rather suggest that we help each other. You will encounter difficult businessmen at the bank, and I can teach you the best way to negotiate with them.”
Liam snorted. “I learned about businessmen when I dropped out of school in the eighth grade and joined a union. Come at them hard, fast, and don’t take no for an answer. Your fancy college means nothing to me. Any power I claw away from the Blackstones will be used on behalf of the workingmen of this world.”
She silently cringed. Everything about Liam, from his brash manners to the pride he took in his eighth-grade education, was destined to be a catastrophe in the Blackstone boardroom.
She swiveled her eyes to Patrick, silently begging for help. He needed no prompting.
“You are about to walk into a den of snakes,” Patrick said, making no effort to mask his Irish brogue. “These people don’t fight with fists or words but with alliances and legal technicalities. I’ll have your back and so will your sister, but nothing in this world comes for free. She’s going to expect you to come through for her, and she’s not wrong in asking for it.”
Then Patrick directed his strong, Irish brogue toward her. “Gwen, you can’t expect Liam to walk away from a crusade he’s fought all his life. It would drain him of the fire that’s made him the survivor he is. Like it or not, you two are going to have to get along with each other.”
She rocked back in her bench. Liam was the one who needed fixing, not her.
Suddenly, her optimism about their three-week retreat to the Queens campus seemed far less certain.
24
Defending Gwen from Liam’s wisecracks was trying Patrick’s patience, but he hoped the situation would improve once they were no longer trapped in a train compartment. They would each have their own bedroom at the dormitory in Queens, and the extra breathing room would be welcome.
Patrick liked the Queens campus even though it was only a single building located next to a horse stable and a fenced grazing area. They were in the heart of the city, surrounded by a tobacco shop, a pencil factory, and a delicatessen. This plain brick building would be their home for the next three weeks while they tried to smooth Liam’s rough edges and teach him the basics of how to function in refined society.