Much. Lets go to the copy machine together, shall we? she said.

Just in case I need help.

My pleasure, William drawled.

You know, Sutton said more dimly, as she led the way out of the office, you shouldnt smoke. That stuff will kill you.

Edward closed his eyes.

Oh, the lights, Sutton murmured. Here, allow me. Once we get the copies, we should return to the party.

So eager to enjoy better bourbon than you produce?

Everything went dark. Yes, William. Of course.

As the pair of them went off together, Edward listened to the prattle of their talk" and prayed, for his fathers sake, that the man kept his hands off Sutton. Watching that little show by the desk had required a kind of disci-pline he had not been connected to for quite a while.

What the hell kind of business deal were the pair of them execut- ing?

God, he never thought hed think like this, but he hoped Sutton wasnt making any investment in the BBC" or trying to acquire it. She could well be pouring good money into a black hole.

Because, yes, even before he had started to get into those most re- cent files, Edward had suspected what his father was doing. He had never understood the why of it . . . but he did know where to look and exactly what he was going to find.

Some moments later, he heard Sutton say, Well, I think this bene- fits us both. Ill execute the wire transfer first thing on Monday morn- ing.

Care to seal this with a kiss?

Edward curled up a fist and thought of what his brother had said about Chantal.

Thank you, but a handshake is more than sufficient" and even that, I dont require. Ill let myself out.

A door opened and closed.

And then his father came back, the heavy footfalls striding in Ed- wards direction making him wish hed brought his own gun.

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Lane knew where he was, however. If he didnt make it out of here alive, Lane . . . would know.

Closer . . .

Closer . . .

Except his father just walked right by the desk and into his own office" where he turned on a light, pulled open a drawer and put the papers that had been signed back inside. Then he closed things up and took a number of puffs on his cigar, as if he were lost in thought.

When a coughing fit ensued, Edward rolled his eyes. His father had been an asthmatic all his life. Why anyone with that condition, even if it was just a mild case as William had, would ever smoke anything was a mystery.

As the man took out a handkerchief and covered his mouth, he also retrieved his inhaler and briefly replaced the cigar butt with the drugs.

After a quick huff, he put the cigar back in place, turned off the light, and . . .

. . . proceeded by his assistants desk.

Edward didnt move. Continued to hold his breath. Waited for the sound of one of the French doors opening and closing.

None of that came.

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THIRT Y- SIX.

A s Lizzie stood before him looking shaken, Lane wanted to take it all back. He wanted to return to the time when it was only his familys wealth and social position . . . along with his lying, baby- killing, adulterous, soon- to- be ex- wife . . . who came between them.

Ah, yes, the good ol days.

Not.

Im sorry, he whispered. And that was true about so damned much.

Thats all right.

Not really.

When they fell silent, he found that the sound of the party annoyed the crap out of him" especially as he thought about all that money that his father had borrowed. He had no idea exactly what the costs of the brunch were, but he could do the math. Six or seven hundred people, top- shelf liquor, even if they got it wholesale, food that was out of a Mi-chelin three- star restaurant? With enough parkers and waiters to take care of the entire city of Charlemont?

A quarter of a million, at least. And that didnt include the boxes at { 310 }.

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the track. The tables in the private rooms at Steeplehill Downs. The ball that his family sponsored afterward.

It was a million- dollar event that lasted less than twenty- four hours.

Listen, you better go. He didnt want her to see Edward. Mostly because he was guessing Edward wouldnt want to be seen. Ill come to your place, even if I cant spend the whole night.

Id like that. Im worried about you. Lot going on.

You have no idea, he thought.

He leaned in to kiss her, but she ducked away" which was probably the right thing to do. A couple of groundsmen in a golf cart were coming up the lane from the lower part of the estate, and no one needed to see that.

Ill get there when I can, he said. Then he leaned in. Know that Im kissing you right now. Even if its only in my mind.

She blushed. I . . . Ill see you. Tonight. Ill leave the door unlocked if you go late.

I love you.

As she turned away, he didnt like the look on her face. And it was impossible to hide the fact that he desperately wanted her to say those words back" and not because she was being polite, but because she meant them.

Because her heart was on the line . . . just as his was.

With his world so off- balance, Lizzie King certainly seemed like the only secure, steady thing on his horizon"

The sound of the door opening behind him ripped his head around.

Not Edward.

Not. Even. Close.

His father, not his brother, came out of the rear door of the business center, and Lane froze.

The first thing he did was look at the mans hands" and he expected to find blood there. But no. In fact, the only thing on them, or in one of them, rather, was a white handkerchief that was pressed to his mouth as if he were discreetly covering a cough.

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His father did not look over, but didnt appear stressed. Preoccupied, yes. Stressed? No.

And the bastard walked right by the back end of the old truck, the lack of social position associated with such a vehicle putting the F-150 and whatever owner or passenger might be standing with it beneath his radar.

I know what you did.

Lane wasnt aware of speaking until the words came out of his mouth. And his father stopped and turned around immediately.

As one of the garage doors began to trundle up in the background, Williams eyes narrowed and he tucked the handkerchief inside his jacket.

I beg your pardon, the man said.

Lane crossed the distance between them and met his father eye to eye. Keeping his voice low, he said, You heard me. I know exactly what you did.

It was eerie how much that face looked so like his own. Also eerie that nothing in it moved . . . Williams expression didnt change in the slightest.

Youll have to be more specific. Son.

The cold tone suggested that last word could have been replaced by waste of my time or perhaps the more colloquial asshole.

Lane gritted his teeth. He wanted to lay it all out, but the reality that his brother was still inside that business center" or at least, hopefully remained in there alive" coupled with the fact that his father would just redouble efforts to cover his tracks, stopped him.

Chantal told me, Lane whispered.

William rolled his eyes. About what? Her demand that her rooms be redecorated for the third time? Or is it that trip to New York she wanted to take" again? Shes your wife. If she wants these things, she needs to discuss them with you.

Lane narrowed his stare, tracing every one of those features.

Now, if youll excuse me, Lane, Im going to"

You dont know, do you.

His father indicated an elegant hand to the Rolls- Royce being pulled { 312 }.

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out of the garage. Im going to be late" and I dont play guessing games. Good day"

Shes pregnant. As his father frowned, Lane made sure that he enun- ciated his words clearly. Chantal is pregnant, and she says its yours.

He waited for the tell, waited for that single pinpoint of weakness to show . . . used all his experience in poker to read the man in front of him.

And suddenly there it was, the admission spoken in the subtle twitch- ing under the left eye.

Im divorcing her, Lane said softly. So shes all yours, if you want her. But that bastard child is not living under my mothers roof, do you understand? You will not disrespect Mother like that. I will not have it.

William coughed a couple of times, and re- outed the handkerchief.

A piece of advice for you, son. Women like Chantal are as truthful as they are faithful. I have never been with your wife. For godsakes.

Women like her arent the only ones who lie.

Ah, yes, a double entendre. The conversational harbor for the pas- sive aggressive.

Fuck it, Lane thought.

Fine, I know about your affair with Rosalinda, too, and Im very sure she killed herself because of you. Considering you have refused to speak to the police, Im assuming you know that fact as well and are waiting for your attorneys to tell you what to say.

The flush of rage that rose up from the French collar of his fathers pressed and monogrammed shirt was a red stain that turned his skin ruddy as a tarp. You better realign your thinking, boy.

And I know what you did to Edward. At that point, his voice cracked. I know you refused to pay the ransom, and Im pretty sure you had him kidnapped. Steering away from anything further about the fi- nancial issues, Lane continued, You always hated him. I dont know why, but you always went after him. Im only guessing you finally got bored toying with him and decided to end the game on your terms, once and for all.

Funny, over the years, he had often pictured himself confronting his { 313 }.

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father" had played out all kinds of different scenarios, tried on all sorts of righteous speeches and violent yelling.

The reality was so much more quiet than he would have imagined.

And so much more devastating.

The Rolls- Royce came to a stop beside them, and the familys uni- formed chauffeur got out. Sir?

William coughed into that handkerchief, his gold signet ring gleam- ing in the sunlight. Good day, son. I hope you enjoy your fiction. It is easier to contend with than reality" for the weak.

Lane grabbed the mans arm and yanked him around. You are a bastard.