Liam was pensive as he digested the news. The shadows beneath his eyes were dark smudges against the deathlike pallor of his face. He was barely strong enough to stand on his own two feet, but he was going to have to walk back into New York City and fight for recognition from one of the most powerful families in America.

“I know you’re right, but I don’t know how to begin,” Liam said weakly.

Patrick didn’t either, but Gwen would. “I think our next move is to go to your sister,” he said, praying that Gwen would be prepared to accept Liam into her world.

22

Gwen considered the feast she had prepared for Patrick’s return. He had called from the train station to tell her he’d arrived back in the city and that she should expect a visit this evening. It gave her enough time to run to the Irish bakery a few blocks from campus and buy plenty of food because Patrick had been traveling all day and would be hungry. She spread an Irish lace tablecloth over the table, then filled the sideboard with a platter of corned beef sandwiches, cranberry scones, and a jar of clotted cream. She didn’t know if he would prefer the spiced apple cake or the almond cake, so she’d bought both. She arranged a few peony blossoms snipped from her garden to complete the table. Maybe it was a little much, but she wanted Patrick to know that she would celebrate his Irish heritage.

She had barely finished arranging the flowers when he knocked on her front door, and she hurried to let him in.

The shapes of two men were visible through the cut-glass leaded window in the door, and one of them was Patrick. The smile fled her face when she recognized the other. Liam Malone stood beside Patrick on the front stoop, looking like death warmed over.

“You look awful,” she said.

Liam’s mouth twisted. “Thanks. Can we come in?”

She glanced at Patrick, whose face was uneasy, but he met her eyes squarely and nodded. She clenched the doorknob as the implications of Liam’s presence sank in. Patrick wouldn’t have brought Liam here unless it portended something big.

She led the way to the parlor. “Are you hungry?” she asked, even though she suddenly felt too ill to eat a single morsel.

Patrick shook his head, and Liam plodded slowly into her parlor, where he lowered himself into the wingback chair without being invited. Patrick took the chair beside him and gestured for her to sit on the sofa across from them.

She remained standing. Anxiety made it impossible to sit. Liam was big and intimidating and seemed out of place in her parlor. His pallor made him look ill but didn’t diminish his toughness, and he frightened her.

“Tell me what you’ve learned,” she managed to ask Patrick in a calm tone.