Her grandfather lifted his straw hat in greeting. His face was flushed with good cheer, and a half-empty bottle of white wine graced the table. “There’s still some lobster,” he called out. “Come quickly, before Bertie finishes it off.”
“I’ve only had three,” Bertie defended. He met Gwen’s gaze as they approached the table. “We didn’t expect you back for a few more days. Did Mrs. Carnegie send you packing?”
Gwen glanced at Aunt Martha, whose sheepish look made it clear she’d spilled the beans about where they went and why.
Liam nodded. “She knows how to make her intentions clear.”
“Ha!” Bertie chortled. “That’s why I let Oscar do the talking for us. No wonder you look so glum.”
Her cousin Joshua gave Liam a condescending smile. “Serve an apprenticeship in San Francisco like Grandfather recommends. It’s better to fail in a small pond than in the big city.”
Uncle Oscar’s gaze had the cautious laziness of a panther watching from afar. “Well?” he asked.
“Mrs. Carnegie proved firm in her position about the steel merger,” Gwen said in a deliberately casual tone. “We couldn’t budge her off it.”
Oscar nodded graciously. He raised a wineglass and sent a polite nod to Liam. “That was as expected, but you are to be commended for trying. As my father suggests, a few years in San Francisco might be a better starting place for you.”
Liam didn’t need to hide in San Francisco to learn the ropes. The plan was to get him on the board of directors for U.S. Steel, and Gwen couldn’t be prouder of him. Happiness as pure as the blue sky above them made her almost giddy with joy.
“Although Mrs. Carnegie won’t budge on the steel merger, she has authorized the college’s continued financial support,” she said. “In conjunction with Grandfather and Count Sokolov, we have enough votes to continue funding the college in perpetuity.”
Uncle Oscar set down his wineglass, all traces of humor gone. “No,” he in disbelief.
“Yes,” Patrick countered.
Oscar silently fumed, but all Gwen cared about was Frederick. Her grandfather stood to his full height and doffed his hat, his eyes beaming in pride.
“Well done, Gwendolyn. Well done.”
She turned to the men beside her. “I couldn’t have done it without Liam and Patrick. I’d say it was a group effort.”
“And I’d say this is cause for celebration,” Frederick said. “Not so much for the college’s survival as for the return of my grandson. And granddaughter! I may have underestimated the pair of you. Liam, you are proving to be a true Blackstone. Well done, sir!”
“Well done?” Oscar demanded. “He’s following in Theodore’s misguided footsteps. The biggest danger on Wall Street is a powerful man with an easily manipulated heart.” He turned his ire on Patrick. “This is your doing,” he said bitterly. “That lummox with an eighth-grade education couldn’t argue his way out of a paper bag. Now the two of you have gone and stabbed us in the back.”
Liam bristled. “I don’t stab people in the back,” he retorted. “If I want to cross you, I’ll go ahead and stab you in the front.”
“Pipe down,” Patrick ordered, stepping between the two men and sending a warning look at Liam.
Gwen’s spirit plummeted, dismayed at how quickly Liam let himself be provoked by her uncle. Oscar knew exactly what he was doing when he began taunting Liam, and now Frederick had seen as well.
Frederick’s voice was calm but stern. “Liam, you need to master your temper if you’re going to play the game on Wall Street. Don’t blazon your intentions to your opponent.”
Good advice, especially since Liam was keeping silent on his real prize, the U.S. Steel agreement.
“Don’t get used to this,” Oscar said, his voice quietly seething. He turned his back on them and stalked toward the staircase leading back up to the house, kicking up sprays of sand behind him.
“Pay him no mind,” Frederick said as he sat back down in his chair. “Oscar isn’t used to having competition, and the three of you are giving it to him. That’s all to the good.”
“How is it good?” Poppy asked. “It seems like the bank just lost millions of dollars in a hopeless cause.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Patrick said. “The college has done a world of good for people all over the country by curing diseases and educating the next generation of scientists. You can’t put a price tag on that.”
Poppy smirked. “But there’s a price tag on you, isn’t there?” She turned her attention to Frederick. “Patrick dances attendance on Gwen because he owes her $15,000 for some medicine, and she’s paying him off at an allowance of $250 a week. The butler says she wires the money each week to his bank account.”
Gwen stepped forward. “That’s nonsense. Patrick is here because he believes in this cause.”
Poppy remained unmoved. “Gwen, I think it’s precious that you’ve found a new man to take Jasper’s place, but that doesn’t mean you need to flaunt him around in polite company.”
Liam shoved her aside to confront Poppy. “You’re a nasty piece of work, aren’t you?” Liam snarled, but all Gwen could see was the mortification on Patrick’s face.
He didn’t look at her as he turned to Frederick. “Forgive me,” he said to her grandfather. “The annual lobster bake is a family event you all look forward to, and I regret seeing it ruined. I will catch the ferry back to the mainland.”
“Patrick, don’t go,” Gwen said, tugging on his arm. He whirled to face her, and she flinched at the anger on his face. He jerked away and continued heading toward the staircase.
She tried to follow, but Liam caught her arm.
“Let him go,” he said quietly. “The last thing a man wants after being publicly humiliated is to have a woman fussing over him.”
“But he knows I don’t think like that.”
“Which is why he doesn’t need you to soothe his ego. Let him have his pride.”
She couldn’t. When someone was hurting, she needed to offer comfort. Poppy had identified Patrick’s deepest wound, split it wide open, and poured in a gallon of salt in front of the entire family.
She needed to make it right.
Patrick flung his traveling bag on the bed and dumped his clothes inside. These people were despicable. He wouldn’t want his future children exposed to them or thinking that this was the way life ought to be. Walking away from Gwen was going to hurt, but marriage was more than joining two people together. It meant joining two families. He didn’t want his children to be like the hideous Penelope-Arabella or look up to people like Poppy and Oscar Blackstone.
“You aren’t really leaving, are you?”
Gwen stood in the open doorway, looking like a wounded doe. He didn’t want to hurt her, but they’d been foolish to imagine there could be anything lasting between them.
“We both know I don’t belong here,” he said.
“Is it just Poppy who’s driving you away? I’m sorry she spoke as she did, but the rest of the family doesn’t feel as she does.”