After the kidnapping and the ransom demand, his father, William, had tried so hard to get him free, negotiating with the kidnappers, working with the US Embassy. Everything had failed until, eventually, a special team had been sent in and had rescued Edward.

She couldnt imagine what had been done to him.

And this was the anniversary of when hed gotten ambushed while traveling.

Such a shame, the whole thing. South America was one of the most beautiful places in the world with delicious food, fantastic landscapes, and an amazing history" she and Edward had always joked that they would retire down there on side- by- side estates. The kidnapping and ransoming of business executives was one of the travel advisories for certain areas, but that was no different than someone being told not to go through Central Park at three in the morning: Bad elements could be found wherever you were, and there was no reason to condemn an entire continent because of a minority of bad actors.

Unfortunately, Edward had become one of the victims.

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After all this time, she just wanted to see him with her own eyes.

There had been a couple of blurry photos that had been in the press, and they had certainly not set her mind at ease. He had appeared so much thinner, his body hunched over, his face always turned down and away from the cameras.

To her, he would still be beautiful, however.

Miss Smythe, were ready if you are?

Shaking herself into focus, Sutton saw that the one thousand person crowd was seated, picking at their salads, and ready to hear her speak"

Without warning, a sudden roar of dreadful energy pounded through her, bringing sweat out across her chest, over her forehead, under her arms. As her heart leaped into a snare- drum rhythm, waves of light- headedness caused her to reach out and steady herself on the wall.

What was wrong with her"

Miss Smythe?

I cant, she heard herself say.

Im sorry?

She pressed the index cards shed so carefully written out into the hands of the assistant. Someone else needs to"

What? Wait, where are you"

She put her palms up and backed away. " give the speech.

Miss Smythe, youre the only one who"

Ill call you on Monday, Im sorry, I cant do this"

Sutton had no idea where she was going as her high heels clipped a retreat over the marble floor. In fact, it wasnt until a wave of heat hit her that she realized shed left the building via a fire exit and had emerged on the west side of the complex, out in the humid night air.

Far from the parking lot where her chauffeur was waiting.

Collapsing against the museums stuccoed wall, she took deep breaths that did nothing to relieve a crushing sense of suffocation.

She couldnt stay out here all night. More to the point, she wanted to run fast and far away, run until this feeling of ambient terror worked its way out of her system. But that was crazy . . . right?

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God, she was losing her mind. Finally, the pressure of everything was getting to her.

Or maybe it was, once again and always, Edward Baldwine.

Time to get moving. This was ridiculous.

Shucking her stilettos and holding them by the ankle straps, she started out over the grass, staying close to the pools of illumination thrown by the security lights. After what seemed like forever, the park- ing lot she was in search of appeared when she turned yet another corner" except then she was confounded by the number of cars and limousines parked in the open- air space.

Where was her"

By some stroke of luck, the black Mercedes C63 found her, the large sedan drawing up in front of her, its passenger- side window going down soundlessly.

Maam? her chauffeur said in alarm. Maam, are you all right?

I need the car. Sutton walked around to him, the headlights flar- ing brilliant white against her silver gown and her diamonds. I need the car, I need . . .

Maam? The uniformed man got out from behind the wheel. Ill drive you wherever you have to go"

She took a hundred- dollar bill out of her tiny evening bag. Here. Please get a cab, or call someone, Im sorry. Im so sorry, I need to . . . go"

He shook his head at the cash. Maam, I can take you anywhere"

Please. I need the car.

There was a short pause. All right. Do you know how to drive this"

Ill figure it out. She put the money against his palm and curled his hand into a fist. Keep this. Ill be fine.

Id rather drive you myself.

I appreciate the kindness, I truly do. She shut herself in, put the window up, and looked around for the gear shift or the"

At the knock on the tinted glass, she put the thing back down.

Its there" to the side of the wheel, the chauffeur said. Thats where your drive and reverse are. There you go. And the directional { 229 }.

23494.

signal is" yup, thats right. You shouldnt need the windshield wipers, and the headlights are already on as you can see. Good luck.

He stepped back, kind of like youd do if someone were about to put a match to fireworks. Or a bomb.

Sutton hit the gas, and the powerful sedan lurched forward as if there were a jet engine under the hood. In the back of her mind, she did a quick calculation on how many years it had been since shed actually driven herself anywhere" and the answer was not encouraging.

But just like everything else in her life, she was going to figure it out" or die trying.

M ind if I have some more?

As Lizzie gave him an Oh, please, do, Lane got up and headed back for the fridge. The food was helping clear his head" or maybe it was her company.

Probably more just being in her presence.

This is really good, he said as he broke open the ice box and took out another serving.

Her soft laugh made him pause and close his eyes, so the sound could sink into him even more deeply.

Youre just being nice, she murmured.

Gods honest.

Putting his plate into the microwave, he hit six minutes and watched as the frozen block went around and around.

So Im going to have to talk to Edward, he heard himself say.

When was the last time you saw him?

He cleared his throat. Felt that itch for a little drink. It was . . .

For a moment, he got lost in wondering how he could ask her if she had any booze in the house. Wow.

That long?

Actually, I was thinking about something else. Namely, that it was entirely possible that he had a drinking problem. But come on, after a day like today, who wouldnt be an alcoholic?

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23494.

What?

Oh, shit, had he spoken out loud? Sorry, my brains a mess.

I wish there was something I could do to help.

You are.

So when did you see Edward last?

Lane closed his eyes again. But instead of doing some mental calcu- lation that would reveal the sum of how much he sucked as a brother, he went back in time to that New Years night when Edward had gotten beaten for the rest of them.

He and Maxwell had stayed in the ballroom, silent and trem- bling, as their father had forced Edward upstairs. As the two sets of footfalls had ascended the grand staircase, Lane had screamed at the top of his lungs" but only internally.

He was too much of a coward to jump out and stop the lie that had saved him and his brother.

I should go up there, he said as time passed.

But what can you do? Max whispered. Nothing will stop Father.

I could . . .

Except Max was right. Edward had lied, and their father was making him pay for a transgression that was not his own. If Lane told the truth now . . . their father would simply beat them all. At least if he and Maxwell stayed put here, they could avoid . . .

No, this was wrong. This was dishonorable.

Im going up there. Before Maxwell could say anything, Lane grabbed his brothers arm. And youre coming with me.

Maxs conscience must have been bothering him as well, because instead of arguing like he always did with everything, he followed mutely up the front stairs.

When they got to the top, the grand hallway was empty save for the fancy moldings, the oil paintings, and the bouquets sitting on antique tables or bureaus.

Weve got to stop this, Lane hissed.

One after the other, they moved quickly over the carpeted runner . . . to their fathers door.

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On the other side of the panels, the sounds of the whipping were sharp and loud, from the slaps of leather hitting bare skin to the grunts as their father put strength into it.

Edward was silent.

And meanwhile, the two of them just stood there, silent and stupid. All Lane could think about was how neither he nor Max would be even half as strong. They would both have ended up crying.

The drive to be righteous and honest grew weaker with each of those hits . . . until Lanes nerve was totally lost.

Lets go, he choked out with shame.

Once again, Max did not put up a fight. He was obviously too much of a coward as well.

The room they shared was down farther, and Lane was the one who opened the door. There were plenty of bedrooms to spare for them to sleep separately, but when Maxwell had started getting night terrors a couple of years before, they had become roommates by default: Max had started sneaking into Lanes room and waking up there in the morning. Eventually, Miss Aurora had moved another bed in, and that was that.

Their bathroom was a Jack and Jill" and the room on the far side of the long, thin space was Edwards.

Max got in his bed and stared straight ahead. We shouldnt have gone down there. Its my fault.

Its both our fault. He glanced down at Max. You stay there. Im going to go wait for him to come back in.

As he went into the loo, he closed the door behind himself and prayed Max followed orders. He had a bad feeling about what kind of condition Edward was going to be in when their father was done with him.

Oh, how Lane wanted to go back to earlier and redo the decision to go to the parlor.

Putting the toilet seat down, he sat and listened to the pounding of his heart. Even though he couldnt hear the whipping anymore, it didnt matter.