Searching the shrubbery for another glimpse of the girl, Jiyong remained frozen, one foot resting on the bottom step of the Parks’ porch. The thickness of the greenery foiled him. A soft panting sound drifted to him, and the bushes swayed. Leaning his weight backward, he saw a flash of white. The next second, she burst from the foliage, her slender shape seemingly afloat on a cloud of zephyr.

“I won’t hurt you, Dara! Don’t be afraid.” Before his words could die away , she had disappeared into a thick stand of trees that bordered the yard. “Damn.”

Convinced that it wasn’t safe for her to be alone out in the woods at night, Jiyong nearly went after her. Then he thought better of it.

She clearly believed him to be YongDeuk, and her terror of him would lend her speed. Even if he could catch her, he doubted he could make her understand that he meant her no harm. Poor little thing. Her lot in life had been cross enough to bear without YongDeuk adding to her woes. Jiyong didn’t want to compound her troubles by scaring her half to death. She probably couldn’t comprehend what had happened to her today or understand that it was unlikely to occur again.

He shook his head and continued up the steps. Dear God. Just the thought that the poor little creature believed he was her made Jiyong want to rush back home and give YongDeuk the beating of his young life. The unleashed anger made him rap his fist against the Park’ door with more force than he might have otherwise.

Blood was thicker than water, and for that reason Jiyong didn’t want to see his brother dancing at the end of a rope. But, on the other hand, if YongDeuk was caught, he had whatev er he got coming to him, in spades.

Park Minyoung, the judge’s wife, answered Jiyong’s knock. He was mildly surprised not to be let in by a servant, but then he realized tonight was extraordinary for this family , a time for discretion and hushed whispers. Having a mentally retarded child was undoubtedly difficult enough. If word got out that the girl had been , the gossips would nev er let the Park hear the end of it. The staff had undoubtedly been giv en the ev ening off to make sure that didn’t occur.

Jiyong thought it was a pity that the Park had to be concerned with such matters at a time like this. But he couldn’t really blame them, either. As accepting as the majority of people were of handicaps, there were always those few narrow-minded individuals. Even though Dara was never taken to town and her parents reputedly kept her out of sight when they had callers, Jiyong had heard that Minyoung had still been snubbed more than once by other ladies of her station because of her daughter. Rumor also had it that the Park’ other three daughters v isited home infrequently , not because of the distance, as the Park maintained, but because their husbands felt uncomfortable being around Dara.

Though impeccably turned out in a green alpaca shirtwaist, her graying sable hair swept up and twisted into a tidy knot atop her head, Minyoung looked exhausted. Her blue eyes were puffy from weeping, and her delicately sculpted face was pale, the skin drawn tautly across her high cheekbones, her finely drawn mouth pursed and bracketed by deep crevices. She was startled to see him but managed to hide it fairly well, the only telltale sign a nervous plucking of her fingers at her skirt.

“Mr. Kwon .” She inclined her head as she addressed him, her manner stiff and formal. “To what do we owe this … honor?’’

That last word sounded as though it nearly gagged her to utter it. Not that he blamed her. The Kwons couldn’t be at the top of her list right now. He imagined it was her fondest wish to claw his eyes out. If Dara were his daughter, that was how he’d feel.

Enraged. Violent. Wanting his pound of flesh.

“I came to speak with your husband,” Jiyong managed. “I trust he’s at home?”

She nodded and opened the door more widely , beckoning him into the foyer, albeit with obvious reluctance. Feeling like a weevil in the flour sack, Jiyong turned his hat in his hands, wishing to God he were any where but there. What did one say to the parents of a girl his brother had violated? I’ve come to make amends? As if he could. An apology wouldn’t begin to undo the damage that had been wrought. He’d felt ashamed a few times in his life, but this took the prize.

Usually self-assured and obliv ious to what others might think of him, Jiyong regarded the fine cut of Park Minyoung’s gown and found himself wishing he had taken the time to dress a bit more formally . Bad enough to be the brother of a without appearing tasteless, to boot.

Ah, well. It was too late now. Though blessed with substantial amounts of money and a home that could encompass this one on its first floor, Jiyong spent most of his time with the hired hands, working his horses or the fields. When he socialized, which was rarely , he preferred the company of common people who eked their livings from the soil. Unless he planned a trip to town, he usually dressed in blue denims and a sensible shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled back to the elbows. Before coming here, he had washed up, shaved, thrown on knee breeches, and a suit jacket, and called himself presentable. With all else that had been on his mind, he’d forgotten that Park was a man who placed a lot of importance on appearances. After having been a judge for over thirty years, he didn’t even keep livestock on his place, let alone stoop to getting his hands dirty .

“The judge is in his study ,” Mrs. Park informed him, her manner faultlessly gracious but frosty .

Acutely aware that she hadn’t offered to take his hat, Jiyong followed her from the foyer into a long, door-lined hallway .

Halfway down the corridor, she paused and tapped lightly on gleaming oak. “Judge? You have a caller.”

An indiscernible grumble came from within. Mrs. Park opened the door and mov ed back to let Jiyong enter. As he stepped into the room, some of his tension eased. It was a study very like his own, with large, comfortably stuffed chairs positioned strategically around colorful tapestry rugs. A room where a man could relax and feel at home. Leather-bound books lined gleaming oak shelves along three walls, the fourth boasting a river-rock fireplace. Firelight flickered cheerily in the grate, the only other illumination that of two gas jets above the mantel.

The judge sat behind his desk, his white court shirt rumpled, the collar open, his crimson tie loosened. A tendril of smoke drifted up from an ashtray near his elbow, the smell of it sharp. Jiyong settled his gaze on the cigar. Even after fourteen years, just the sight of one made him think of his father and filled him with sadness.

“Jiyong,” Park said wearily . “I take it you’v e spoken with your brother?”

It didn’t take clairvoy ance to realize the judge expected him to launch into a tirade, denying YongDeuk’s involvement in the attack on his daughter. Jiyong only wished that were the case. “Yes.”

Gazing at the books along one wall, he tried to make out the titles.

The gold lettering blurred and danced in his vision, as jumbled as his thoughts. He didn’t know where to start, or what to say . “I, um…” He swallowed and scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he slapped his pant leg with his hat. “YongDeuk did it,” he finally blurted. “I’v e come to offer my abject apologies for the injury he has done your daughter and make amends in any way I possibly can.”

In response to that, the judge said nothing.

Jiyong rushed on. “If you intend to prosecute, I won’t stand in your way . But you’d better be quick about notifying the sheriff. I’ve kicked my brother out of the house, and he’s probably hightailing it for parts unknown about now.”

Resting both elbows on his desk blotter, the judge rubbed at his temples. “Prosecute?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Ah, yes, one would think so. It seems the natural thing to do, doesn’t it? But in situations like this, matters of right and wrong become blurred.”

At that admission, he laughed again, but there was no humor in the sound. “A judge for over half my life, and for the first time in my memory , there seems to be a very wide area of gray between the black and white.”

The pain in the judge’s voice made Jiyong fix his gaze on the floor.

Safe territory , that. No accusing eyes stared back at him. He could think of nothing he might say , so he took refuge in silence.

Finally , the judge resumed speaking. “I appreciate your offer not to interfere. He is your brother, after all. But I’m not sure restraint on your part will prove necessary .”

Forcing himself to look up, Jiyong said, “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

Park lowered his hands and met Jiyong’s gaze. “I know it may sound heartless, but there is far more to be considered here than the injury done to Dara.” The judge shoved back his chair and came to his feet. For a man of small stature, he had a large presence, his eyes a piercing sapphire-blue, his features a striking blend of character and strength. Jiyong had always admired him and applauded the fairness of his decisions on the bench. He was a hard man, but just, a person people instinctively trusted.

“Scandal, Jiyong, a politician’s nightmare,” he said softly . “If what happened today gets out, the backlash could be extreme.” Looking a little shamefaced, he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and studied the toes of his highly polished black shoes. “Not just to Dara, but to me and the rest of my family .”

Jiyong was still confused but refrained from saying so.

With a sigh, the older man took a turn before the crackling fire, his gaze fixed on the stone hearth, his manner dejected. “YongDeuk should be hanged for what he did to my little girl today . There’s no question in my mind about that. But to what gain? Dara has been violated, and I can’t undo that. For that reason, I’m inclined to do nothing. As I’m sure you know, I’v e retired from the bench to try my luck at local politics and possibly go on from there to serve in some capacity at a state level. A scandal of any sort could ruin me.”

It seemed to Jiyong that the scandal would besmirch the Kwon name, not Park’s. “Your daughter has been . You can’t be blamed for that or in any way held accountable. If any thing, public sympathy will be aroused.”

“Ordinarily , yes. But our Dara isn’t normal. She’s fetched, no question about it, an affliction brought on by a high fever in early childhood. Unfortunately , people being given to gossip as they are, there have been those who have speculated about her idiocy , hinting that it could be inherited.” He pinned Jiyong with a direct, intense gaze. “How many mad politicians hav e you voted for recently ?’’

There was nothing Jiyong could say to that. No one could question the judge’s sanity , but if gossips painted him as having madness in his family , the voters’ faith in him might be shaken. All it would take to ruin hi