Patrick vaulted off his chair, trying to hold his temper in check. He was on the verge of winning this for Gwen. “Who do you think benefits from the medicine Blackstone College makes? My mother has worked all her life in a hot kitchen, getting up before dawn to make bread for the people of this city. She is who the college helped. With a little funding and God’s blessing, the next time a steelworker comes down with tetanus, the serum will be there for him too.”

Liam glowered at him from the chair. “Andrew Carnegie has been the face of everything I’ve despised all my life. My father burned his hand while slaving at Carnegie Steel, and he never got a dime in compensation. All we got were threats of eviction because my dad was out of work for two weeks and couldn’t make rent. And then there was the time—”

Patrick cut him off. “Andrew Carnegie doesn’t even know who you are. Right now we need his wife’s cooperation. If you lecture her on the wickedness of her husband, we’ll walk away from this with nothing. We need to fight smart. Fight hard. I’ll be with you the entire way, but don’t you dare embarrass your sister by showing contempt for the Carnegies.”

Now Liam was equally angry. He stood and started bellowing union platitudes, his voice echoing in the mostly empty mansion.

Gwen’s voice broke the rant. “I step away for a few minutes, and the two of you are at each other’s throats?” She stood in the open doorway, looking aghast as she held a tray of sandwiches.

Patrick closed the space between them and took the tray from her. “Never mind us. Did you get through to Mrs. Carnegie?”

Gwen nodded. “I spoke with her butler, and he said we can call on her tomorrow. Apparently, rumor of William Blackstone’s resurrection from the dead is already making the rounds in the city, so I think she’ll be willing to receive us. We should practice tea etiquette before heading over to see her.”

Gwen went on to say that Mrs. Carnegie was a delightful woman but that they would still need to comport themselves with the utmost formality.

“I have already sent for your new suits to be delivered from Queens by tomorrow morning,” she said to Liam. “And the macassar oil would be a good idea. I know you don’t like it, but it would be best to have you properly turned out.”

Patrick should probably swing back to the Five Points and get his own suit, because everything he had was grubby after traveling for the past two weeks.

They polished off the sandwiches, and when a maid pushed the tea cart into the room, Gwen coached Liam once again. “Back straight. Bring the teacup to your mouth, and don’t slurp.”