The first floor of the building contained a research laboratory, classrooms, and a large common area with tables for both dining and studying. Dormitory rooms filled the two floors above. A couple of stable hands lived on the top floor to look after the horses, but the entire second floor was empty because there weren’t students here during the summer.
The dormitory rooms each had a single bed, a chest of drawers, and a desk. Patrick insisted Gwen have the only room with a view of the horse pasture. He could sense how uneasy she was in this noisy urban environment, but he and Liam loved it. Frankly, the dormitory was newer and nicer than any place either of them had ever lived.
He was helping Liam unpack when Gwen tapped on the open door of his room.
“I’ve brought herbal sachets for everyone,” she said, holding out several little lace-covered packets.
“What’s a sachet?” Liam asked.
She set a couple on his pillow. “They are pouches of scented herbs to make things smell nice. I made these with lemon balm and lavender from my garden. They’ll make your dormitory feel a little more like home.”
Liam snorted. “I don’t need that sort of girly stuff.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “The sheets smell like bleach, and a sachet will make them so nice when you slip into bed tonight.”
“Bleach means the sheets are clean,” Liam said, trying to give the lacy sachets back.
But Gwen was having none of it and tucked them back beneath Liam’s sheets. “When dealing with polite company, you should graciously accept whatever is offered, even if it doesn’t seem important to you. This may not seem natural to you, but you need to learn these little niceties.”
Her voice had a whiff of schoolmarm to it that Liam didn’t appreciate, but Patrick sent him a warning glare to stifle whatever rude comment he was about to make. Gwen had put up with a lot from Liam in the past few hours, and Patrick didn’t like seeing her hurt.
The dormitory had a communal washroom at the end of the hall they would all need to share. Patrick thought the shiny white tiles looked nice, but Gwen’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the urinals. Stalls provided privacy for the toilets, but the washroom was crude compared to what she had in her home.
“Hot water!” Liam said with approval, twisting the tap on one of the sinks. Hot water was an unheard-of luxury in the neighborhoods where Patrick and Liam lived, and the thought of a piping hot shower tonight was appealing.
Gwen fidgeted, and Patrick finally asked her what was wrong.
She nodded to the toilet stall. “I need to use the facilities. Can you both step outside?”
Liam was still fiddling with the hot water. “What’s your problem? The toilets have doors.”
“I would prefer a little more privacy,” Gwen said delicately.
“Don’t worry,” Liam snickered. “Go ahead and let one rip if you want. I won’t tell anyone.”
Gwen’s face turned bright red, and she stepped forward to jab a finger in Liam’s face. “That’s exactly the sort of tacky thing you can’t say in polite company. I really shouldn’t have to explain this to you, Liam.”
“Look, Mother Superior, I’m a normal man, and this is how normal people talk.”
“It’s not how Blackstones talk.”
Patrick didn’t want to be the mediator between these two, but it appeared to be his role. “Liam, out,” he ordered. “From now on, Gwen gets to use the washroom by herself, and you need to knock before entering.”
Liam made quite a production as he turned off the taps and took forever to dry his hands, but he left, and Patrick followed him out.
“That woman drives me nuts,” Liam grumbled as the door slammed behind them. “She nitpicks everything I do and acts like she walks on water when she’s no better than the rest of us.”
Liam continued to list Gwen’s flaws as they walked down the hall. He complained about everything. The fussiness of her house, the way she dressed, the way she covered her nose with a handkerchief in the train station. When he insulted the way she didn’t show her teeth when she smiled, Patrick had heard enough. He grabbed both of Liam’s shoulders and shoved him up against the wall, pinning him in place.
“She sometimes drives me nuts too,” he admitted. “Her compassion. Her valor. Her willingness to bend over backward to do what’s right, even when it isn’t easy. And, Liam, nothing about dealing with you has been easy. I adore that woman. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull that I’m not going to stand back while you keep lobbing insults at the woman I adore. Got it?”
Liam looked appalled as understanding sank in. “You and her?” he choked out.
“Yeah, me and her. You think you’ve got it tough having to learn a few table manners? When the world learns who you are, they will throw rose petals in your path and treat you like a long-lost hero. When they learn that I put my grubby hands on Gwendolyn Blackstone Kellerman, they’ll spit on me.”
He cringed even thinking about it, but he’d be a fool to think otherwise.
Gwen left to buy something for dinner as an excuse to get away from Liam, who was getting on her last nerve. She had never liked the Queens campus. Smack in the center of the city, it didn’t seem like a college campus to her, but it would be a good place to keep Liam out of sight until he shed his atrocious manners. Nobody could actually be as stupidly crass as Liam Malone, could they? Thank heaven Patrick was here to play the peacemaker, because he seemed to be the only person Liam respected.
Things didn’t get any better when they sat down for dinner in the common room. During the academic year, students used this room for dining, group lectures, and studying. It was an interior room with no windows and was furnished only with two large tables, a single stove, and a couple of shelves for dishes.
Gwen brewed a pot of tea, and Patrick set out the crusty Italian sandwiches she’d bought at the deli next door.
“You must grasp a teacup by its handle,” she instructed after Liam palmed the bowl of the cup. “Tip the cup rather than throwing your entire head back like a sea gull guzzling down a fish.”
“You people have rules for how a man should swallow?” Liam challenged.
“We have rules for everything.” She pretended not to notice when Liam rolled his eyes, but she couldn’t ignore the way he hunkered down to eat his sandwich. “Sit up straight and bring your food to your face, not your face down to the food,” she said politely.
Liam ignored her until Patrick kicked him under the table, and Liam reluctantly sat up straighter.
She kept her face serene as she continued speaking. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping for new clothes because looking like a gentleman requires a suitable wardrobe.”
She could only pray that once properly attired, Liam might start behaving better. Something about a starched collar and a fine waistcoat seemed to instill a certain level of decorum in men.
The following morning, she took Liam and Patrick to the finest haberdashery in Queens. Wooden shelves stacked with bolts of fabric reached all the way to the ceiling, while glass cases displayed silk ties, enameled cufflinks, and imported buttons. Liam needed an entirely new wardrobe: custom trousers, broadcloth shirts, at least two frock coats, waistcoats, a morning coat, a cutaway jacket, and a double-breasted wool coat for when the weather turned cold. He needed a white suit for summer and a tuxedo for evenings.