Frederick whirled, his face iron-hard. “I already lost you once. I won’t tolerate it happening a second time. I want you off this island until we figure out who is trying to kill you.”
Gwen scanned the room. Nobody admitted to shooting a gun, and the only people from the estate who weren’t here right now were Patrick and Aunt Martha’s husband, Milton. Patrick still hadn’t returned from wherever he’d stormed off to after Poppy’s insults, and Milton had been fishing for saltwater bass all day.
“Could it have been Milton?” someone asked. “Does he hunt?”
Aunt Martha was tending Poppy and couldn’t be asked, but Aunt Helen refused to believe it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her pin curls bobbing. “The only person who was nearby for both attacks on Liam is that lawyer fellow.”
“Patrick didn’t do it,” Liam snapped.
“How can you be so sure?” Aunt Helen asked.
“Because I’m the one who got stabbed in the gut, and I’d already be dead if Patrick hadn’t saved my life.”
Edwin rose, leaning heavily on his cane. “I’d like to head back to the city too. Liam will need someone who knows Manhattan to get him to a safe place.”
“Absolutely not,” Frederick said. “We don’t know who fired those shots, and until we do, I want Liam protected. Bertie was with me when the shots rang out, so we know it wasn’t him. Bertie will accompany Liam home.”
Edwin looked appalled. “It wasn’t me either. I am an excellent shot and wouldn’t have missed an easy target six times.”
“Sit down, Edwin,” Uncle Oscar ordered. “Natalia, I need you to ride into town and send a telegram to Poppy’s doctor so he can be waiting at the port when the Black Rose arrives. Promise him a fortune if he gets here before Poppy delivers.”
Natalia stood. “Of course.”
Liam looked grim as he shrugged into a jacket, preparing to board the Black Rose. None of the crew had been on land when the shots were fired, so it was safe to send Liam on the yacht.
Before he left, Liam crossed the room to Gwen, and she stood. Regret covered his face.
“Stand by Patrick,” he said. “No matter what, don’t let these harpies bring him down. He’s my brother in every way a man can be.” He leaned down to hug her, and she squeezed him tightly. He’d been annoying from the moment she met him, but everything was different now, and how intensely she regretted parting from him on this terrible night.
“Take care,” she whispered. “Please don’t let yourself get killed. It would bother me.”
“It would?” Liam looked partly amused, partly touched.
“It appears miracles really do happen,” she said fondly. “Yes, it would bother me a great deal.”
A blister formed on the back of Patrick’s heel before he arrived at Mr. Smitty’s general store on the other side of the island. He’d been furious when he left the estate, but the long walk had cooled him down. He still had no intention of going back. He would rent one of the rooms above the store and take the ferry back to the city in the morning. His work here was done. He would help Liam during the July board meeting, after which he would cut ties with the entire Blackstone family. A clean break would be best. There was a squeezing in his chest at the thought of never seeing Gwen again, but he would get over it.
Eventually.
A bell dinged when he entered the store. Mr. Smitty was jawboning with a customer up at the soda fountain. The customer turned at the sound of the bell, and Patrick was surprised to see old Milton Abernathy, Aunt Martha’s husband.
“I thought you’d gone fishing,” Patrick said as he took the stool beside Milton.
The older man nodded to a bucket on the floor, where several dead sea bass were covered in ice. “I caught those a few hours ago, then headed over here to relax.”
That was a surprise. Gwen had given him the impression that the annual lobster bake was a tradition the entire family looked forward to each summer.
“You weren’t enjoying the lobster bake?” Patrick asked.
“Did you?” Milton asked with a hint of amusement.
“Not particularly.”
Milton clapped him on the back. “Not a surprise, lad! I always escape to town whenever I’m on the island. Martha thinks I’m fishing, but I’m just looking for a little fresh air.”
“It seems you’ve been looking for a little fresh air for the past forty-five years,” Mr. Smitty said, and Milton nodded in concession.
Over the next hour, Patrick got a lesson in Blackstone family dynamics, and it wasn’t pretty.
