The store owner passed his notebook over, and Gwen scribbled a basic procedure for how to distill the essence of the berries and then combine the oil with an infusion of alcohol. Natalia sent the perfume recipe, giving complete credit to her cousin Gwen. She finished the message by trying to veer the conversation back on track.

Please consider it a gesture of goodwill in exchange for your vote to continue funding the college.

Instead of agreeing, Count Sokolov’s return message was disheartening.

Gwen. Is that short for Gwendolyn?

When Natalia replied that it was, the telegraph nearly exploded with a cascade of clicks that took Mr. Smitty several minutes to decode. When he finished, Mr. Smitty cleared his throat and looked nervously at Natalia. “I don’t think this message is relevant. Perhaps I should throw it away.”

He started balling up the scrap of paper, but Patrick grabbed it. “I need to know exactly what Count Sokolov said. Legal negotiations depend on precise wording, even if it seems irrelevant.”

Gwen watched Patrick as he read the message, his face darkening. He was scowling when he finally looked up.

“Mr. Smitty is correct,” he said, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “This is rambling silliness and should be thrown away.”

Natalia disagreed and snatched the message to read it aloud.

Natalia. Please tell your cousin that I disapprove of her nickname. Gwendolyn is a beautiful name that is feminine, poetic, and charming. Gwen is a savagely blunt syllable that is devoid of the lyricism of her true name. Why do American women do this? Life is too short to opt for crude practicality over beauty and elegance. Please advise your cousin to reconsider how she presents herself to the world.

Liam snickered. “If the count is worried about how Gwen presents herself, I wonder what he’d think of those shapeless gowns she wears.”

“They’re not shapeless,” Gwen defended. “These gowns are very fashionable in Europe.”

“They make you look like you should be eating for two,” Liam said.

Gwen looked heavenward. “Imagine . . . all these years I missed having an older brother to torment me.” She turned her attention back to Natalia. “Is that man ever going to let us discuss the vote?”

“Eventually,” Natalia said. “I warned you that he always does this before he lets me get down to business. I think he’s just terribly lonely.”

Minutes stretched into hours as the message exchange continued. It was almost midnight before they got the message they had been waiting for.

You know I trust your judgment, Natalia. Of course you may vote my bank shares however you wish.

“Glory hallelujah,” Patrick said in exhaustion, but Natalia threw a bucket of cold water on their jubilation.