He turned away, uncomfortable with her pleading. She’d done the same while trying to win her unworthy husband away from his mistress, and Gwen was better than that. She shouldn’t grovel for any man.

Footsteps pounded downstairs and a voice called up from below. “Gwen, it’s time for horseshoes!”

She made no move to leave, and they watched each other from opposite sides of the room. This was it. This was the end. This fleeting summer interlude was over, and he wished there was another way, but it was better to get out now before they hurt each other even more.

“I’ll be in touch with Liam to lead him through the July board meeting,” he said. “If you need me to show him the ropes in Manhattan, just holler. I’ll help however I can.”

“Is there anything I can say to make you stay?” she asked. “Tell me, and I’ll say it.”

His spirit sagged. “Don’t ever beg, Gwen. You’re too good for that.”

He left the room without saying anything else, but the pain on her face haunted him long after he left the estate.

Gwen was too ill to eat after Patrick’s departure. The ferry wouldn’t leave until tomorrow morning, but Mr. Smitty rented rooms over the general store where Patrick could stay the night.

She ignored the horseshoe game on the beach and joined Liam at the picnic table. It was amazing how quickly conversation returned to normal after Patrick left. Chester went back to discussing a racehorse he wanted to buy, and Bertie pestered Edwin about a pricey antique he’d ordered.

“When am I going to see it?” Bertie asked. “I paid six hundred dollars for it.”

Edwin preened as he described the rare find for the group. “It’s a fifteenth-century flask from the Ming dynasty. It’s made of jade and very rare.”

“When can I see it?” Bertie pressed.

“Come by my townhouse when we’re back in the city,” Edwin said. “Maybe I can interest you in a Han dynasty funerary urn.” Edwin launched into a monologue about Chinese antiquities, but Poppy was bored and pulled an exaggerated stretch as she rose from the table.

“I shall go for a little stroll,” she said, cradling her belly. “The doctor says I must walk for twenty minutes a day before the little one arrives. And, Edwin, if you say one more word about the Han dynasty or any other, we are all in danger of falling into a catatonic stupor.”

Everyone except Liam laughed at the comment. Poppy was an undiluted snob, but her influence in the family would only become stronger once she gave birth to Oscar’s long-awaited heir. If Patrick was ever to marry into the Blackstone family, Poppy needed to be neutralized.

Gwen stood and put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Liam, would you like to see the eggs of a nesting sandpiper I found yesterday?”