Patrick shrugged into a shirt and padded across the wooden floor to see what held Liam’s attention down on the beach and was surprised to see that Gwen was already outside. Her bare feet left prints in the sand as she walked alone on the shore.

“Do you think she’s really going to give me the money?” Liam asked. His voice was soft and worried, but there was no doubt in Patrick’s mind about Gwen’s intentions.

“She will.”

Liam sagged a little. “Good,” he whispered. “I could use it.”

The statement was a surprise. So far Liam had seemed interested only in the power that came with the Blackstone name, not the money. “Why?”

Instead of answering, Liam drifted to a chair tucked beneath the eaves. He looked sick and exhausted as he lowered himself into it, staring out at the fog.

When he spoke, his voice was as bleak as the hazy sky. “Do you promise not to tell anyone? Not to breathe a word of it to a single soul?”

Patrick was trained as a priest and a lawyer. He knew how to keep a secret. “I won’t tell anyone.”

For a while Liam didn’t say anything. He just kept clenching and unclenching his fists. “I don’t know what to do about my ma. I told her that I’d love her no matter what, but the more I think about what she did . . .” His voice trailed off, and his face darkened as he rubbed his jaw. “When I was a kid, I never went a week without getting punched. My dad once knocked out two of my molars, and he thought it was funny. My ma was there for all of it. She sometimes tried to make things better, but she was usually too afraid to do anything. She could have gotten me out of there. She could have told someone who I was. The more I think about what she did, the more I hate her for it. I feel guilty, but there it is.”

Liam glanced out the window, where Gwen was heading back to the house. “I’m jealous of her,” he said. “When she thinks of her mother, she remembers soft hugs and orange blossoms.” He gave a twisted laugh but looked almost ready to weep. “Can you believe it? Orange blossoms! My memories of being a kid are full of slamming doors and swinging fists and the taste of blood in my mouth.”

The whispery sound of water rolling ashore was in stark contrast to Liam’s ragged breathing. It would be best for his wounds to be lanced and purged, so Patrick said nothing and waited as Liam struggled with a lifetime of bitter memories.