She’d boxed me into a corner, and she knew it. If I didn’t answer her question, that would only make Lily more suspicious.

“Ana was my mother’s friend,” I reiterated, “and I wanted to know what happened to her, because last anyone heard of her, twenty years ago, she was pregnant.”

I couldn’t risk looking away from the “road” long enough to ascertain which one of them had the more marked reaction to that statement, but Victoria was the one who recovered first.

“That explains some things. Knowing all six of my much-older brothers, not to mention my father, if the family knew she was pregnant, there was probably a lot of blustering about convents—they’re very fond of hypothetical convents.”

“Are they fond of kicking people out of the family?” I asked pointedly.

“Your mama had a friend who was pregnant twenty years ago?” Lily grabbed my arm, then seemed to realize I was still driving and let go of it.

“Yes,” I said.

Victoria countered that question with one of her own. “Back at the gala, why did you step outside alone with Davis Ames?”

“I thought we were playing Truth or Dare,” I said pointedly. “Doesn’t that mean it’s my turn now?”

“If we were taking turns,” Victoria said, her voice low and silky, “I’d pick dare. There’s nothing I won’t do, with proper motivation.”

I wanted to ask her what she was doing with Walker—what her father’s motivation in approaching Davis Ames had been. But she hadn’t chosen truth, and even if she had, Lily was right beside me.

“What if I dared you to jump off this cart?” I threw out the question, allowing the pedal to creep back to the floor.

“Is that a hypothetical dare… or a real one?” Victoria asked.

“Sawyer!” Lily yelled beside me.

I realized too late that we were going too fast. The cart hit what I thought was a bump, but when we went airborne, I realized that it wasn’t a bump.

It was a ledge.

CHAPTER 22

Everything hurt.

The cart must have flipped. That was my first thought. It felt immediate, like less than a second had passed since we’d gone over the ledge, but that couldn’t have been true, because, somehow, I was lying on muddy, damp grass, sticks and rocks digging into the flesh bared by my vintage dress.

“Lily?” That was my second thought as I pushed up to my elbows, my entire body objecting. The lights on the golf cart had gone out. I couldn’t see either of my companions. “Lily, are you okay?”

That question was greeted by a moan. I crawled toward the sound until I hit a figure lying prone. Not Lily, I realized belatedly. Victoria.

“I’m fine,” she said before I could ask.