But she had to know.
“I’m going to Pittsburgh with him to search for proof,” Patrick said. “It may take a few days, but if he’s your brother, I’ll find out.”
Her heart swelled in her chest. “You would really do that for me?”
“I would do anything in the world for you.”
The breath left her lungs in a rush. How long had it been since she could lean on a man she could implicitly trust?
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Patrick continued, without shame or embarrassment. “That means there’s no mountain I won’t climb. No wall I’m not willing to blast through on your behalf.”
A spark of pure joy burst to life. “Oh, Patrick . . . I feel the same. I know there may be a few stumbling blocks ahead for us—”
He stopped her with a kiss, then grinned at her. “You’re tiny enough for me to pick up and carry over them.”
She laughed in delight as he stood and lifted her from the chair, twirling her as effortlessly as though she were a loaf of bread. This was what she’d always wanted in a man. A protector. A man she could trust with her deepest secrets, her heart, her soul.
He set her on the ground, and she clung to him tightly. “God bless you, Patrick. You’re taking a piece of my heart with you to Pittsburgh, but I’ve never felt so safe trusting it to anyone before.”
He clasped her so tightly that she felt the pounding of his heart. He would come through for her. Finally, finally she had a man she could lean on.
18
When Gwen received a summons to join her family on Uncle Oscar’s yacht for a Sunday afternoon sail, she decided to decline. She wanted to spend that time with Patrick before he headed off for Pittsburgh. But when she called Oscar’s house to decline the invitation, she got her marching orders.
“I insist the entire family attend,” Oscar said. “We will be discussing bank business, and your presence is mandatory.”
Nothing in the world was more tedious than bank business, but Oscar was adamant, and since the college’s funding still teetered on the edge of destruction, Gwen dared not disobey.
The sun was shining as she arrived at the marina. Everything felt brighter this morning. She was young and in love. The sky was a cloudless blue. Patrick was going to Pittsburgh to find her an answer about Liam Malone, one way or the other.
Gwen climbed the steeply angled gangway to board the Black Rose, her uncle’s grand yacht that had a staff of eight deckhands, four stewards, two cooks, and a captain. The crew kept the teakwood deck polished to a high shine, and the brass fittings gleamed in the sunlight. Belowdecks were staterooms for eighteen people, a cardroom, a dining room, and a bowling alley.
Once aboard, Gwen surveyed the family already assembled on deck. A few of her cousins played shuffleboard on the rear deck, and Oscar’s wife sat in a deck chair like it was a throne. Poppy Blackstone was Oscar’s second wife and younger than Gwen. Having a male child was desperately important to her uncle. When his first wife died after thirty years of marriage, having given birth to only a single daughter, Oscar wasted no time seeking out a young and healthy bride. Rumor had it that before he married her, he ordered Poppy to visit a specialist to ensure she was capable of bearing children. Poppy had conceived seven months ago, and now she swanned around like she was carrying the child of Zeus, constantly cradling her expanding waistline.
Gwen took the seat beside her. “Do you know why we’ve all been summoned?” Aside from funding the college, she had no interest in bank business, and ordering the entire family to a meeting was odd.
“I have no idea,” Poppy said, slowly waving a fan before her face. Her blond curls were artfully arranged beneath a jaunty hat perched on her head. “It can’t be too important, since Natalia isn’t here.”
That was a surprise. Natalia was Oscar’s daughter from his first marriage, and he always wanted her nearby when discussing bank business.
“Where is she?” Gwen asked.
“At the bank.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “Some excuse about building a railroad through Siberia. Apparently, the funding for supplies simply can’t wait until Monday.” Poppy leaned in a little closer. “Russians,” she muttered, not bothering to hide her disdain. Oscar’s first wife had been Russian, and Poppy instinctively competed with the dead woman’s memory.
Oscar strolled over, his cane tapping on the decking. “Natalia is transmitting payments for supplies to the Trans-Siberian Railway because construction will grind to a halt without food and fuel. We are both very proud of Natalia, aren’t we, Poppy.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Poppy wisely sat up a little straighter and brightened her tone. “Heavens, yes. You should see her at the bank, Gwen. Natalia sits right beside the telegraph operator to arrange the negotiations because he doesn’t understand Russian, but she speaks it like a native. It’s very impressive.”
Oscar would probably have made Natalia his successor at the bank if the operating trust permitted it, but the rules were clear. Only men could inherit power at the bank. Gwen had never minded that, but Natalia did.
Oscar tapped the leg of Gwen’s chair with his cane. “Natalia told me that one of your college professors cured a woman with tetanus. Is it true?”
“It appears so.”
Uncle Oscar nodded in approval. “Good. When can the serum be monetized?”
“That’s a question for Dr. Haas, not me.”
