Señora Armijo was shaking her head, eyes reproachful, her words reproving when they finally paused. “Both of you should be more careful of your reputations,” she scolded, but there was a note of admiration in her tone. “You dance like gypsies!”

With a wicked smile, Steve said, “And how is Señor Sanchez these days? Does he still come and visit you?”

Señora Armijo flushed, her mouth pursing in disapproval at his teasing, but there was a light in her eyes that belied her denial. “No, no, Esteban, you are too wicked to even suggest such a thing!”

“Ah, no, you must admit that there are few who can dance as beautifully as the gypsies, especially the women.” He shot Ginny a swift, teasing glance. “If I did not see an old friend over there, I would stay and dance with you, Señora, but as Don Francisco’s host for the evening, my duty calls.”

Ginny ignored him. He was only trying to tease her, of course, to remind her of Concepciόn. But she refused to let him see how it stung, and said only, “I feel the need for more champagne. If you will excuse me?”

It was crowded, and older guests sat around tables that were set up beneath vine-shrouded galerias, drinking wine or aguardiente while keeping a sharp eye on the younger couples and their dueñas.

Ginny paused beside one of the columns that held up the second floor galeria. Inside, the long tables of food were piled high, and there was a steady stream of guests coming and going, laughing and talking, the women garbed in lovely gowns, their hair pinned up in elaborately decorated Spanish combs. It all seemed so festive, yet there was a strange undercurrent that she didn’t quite understand, evident only when she saw a man that she was convinced was Butch Casey meet with Steve at the fringe of the crowd.

That must be the old friend he had seen, his duty! Ginny frowned.

But if he was here, that meant her baggage had arrived. Or had it? Had he just arrived? If he was here, after all, then some of her worries were proven groundless. It should be a relief. So why did it leave her vaguely unsettled?

It was with a faint sense of shock that Ginny heard Steve tell his grandfather of their impending departure the next day after breakfast had ended.

Don Francisco frowned, brushing his mustache with one finger, a gesture that betrayed agitation. “But why must you leave so soon after arriving?”

“I apologize, sir, but I must get to Mexico City. The situation has escalated, and it’s only a matter of time before Díaz drives Lerdo out of Mexico.”

“What has this to do with you? Are you still involved with that Mr. Bishop? I sense his fine hand in this affair.”