The doors opened, and two hundred people came streaming out. She had to battle the crowd to keep moving toward the doors, determined to intercept the man with the pale eyes and the scar that split his eyebrow.

He wasn’t hard to spot. He was a few inches taller than most of the triumphant and jeering spectators. She pushed through the crowd and managed to grab his elbow.

“Please,” she said. “We need to talk to you.”

He glanced at her through narrowed eyes. “Who is ‘we’?” he asked in a challenging tone.

“My grandfather and I would like to speak to you.”

Frederick was already by her side. Edwin stood a few yards away, watching from a distance. The crowd thinned as the courtroom emptied quickly, and they gestured for the man to follow them a few yards away where it wasn’t so crowded.

“I’m Gwen Blackstone Kellerman, and this is my grandfather, Frederick Blackstone,” she said. “May I ask your name?”

He stared at her grandfather. His demeanor was suspicious and hostile, without an ounce of the deferential respect people usually afforded her grandfather. “Liam,” he finally said. “Liam Malone.”

She sucked in a quick breath. “Are you related to Mick Malone?”

“Yeah, he’s sort of an uncle.”

“Sort of?”

“Yeah, sort of,” he said impatiently. “Look, what’s your business with me?”

Heavens above, what if Mick had snatched her brother and smuggled him away to be raised by someone in his family? William was so young when he was taken that he might have no memory of his early years. The possibility that she could be looking at her long-lost brother was too preposterous to believe, but she couldn’t entirely dismiss it either.

“Exactly how are you related to Mick Malone?”

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s none of your business, lady.”

“You don’t need to be so rude,” she said. “All I did was ask a polite question.”

The hint of a sneer darkened Liam Malone’s face. “Blackstones aren’t polite. You stand on the throat of the working people so you can slurp up ill-gotten gains.” He glanced at the sapphire on her hand. “That pretty blue rock on your finger could choke a horse. How many children went hungry so you could walk around with that vulgar ring?”

“That’s enough,” Frederick warned. “You are to treat my granddaughter with respect.”

“I’d respect her a lot more if she yanked that ring off her finger and dropped it in the nearest collection basket for the poor.”

“This is my wedding ring,” she defended, cradling it against her chest.