It mystified her why Díaz did not dismiss Rafael Luna and send him back to Spain, but he was allowed to remain in the country and in the employ of the president. The switch of his allegiance from Lerdo to Díaz was immediate.

“You are a traitor,” she accused Luna, and he laughed.

“I prefer to think of myself as a chameleon, mi bella,” he had murmured, “able to change colors as needed. But then, is that not true of most men involved in politics? What of your father? Your husband?”

“Don’t you dare mention them to me! I know you know where Steve is. Why won’t you tell me?”

“Is it that important to you? But I had understood that it was a marriage of convenience, a union merely for appearances’ sake. You have both had many lovers, and the marriage is a farce. It is true, is it not?”

Biting her lip, Ginny stared at him in frustration. She could not deny the truth of the past, but it was the past, not the present. Not the future.

“Steve and I have not always been close, no,” she said at last. “But our children have brought us together.”

“Ah, the children. Of course. There are three, are there not?”

“Twins,” she replied stiffly, “but I refuse to discuss my children with you!”

“Only two?” Luna frowned, shaking his head at her. “Ah no, I could not be wrong. I was told there are three.”

“Not unless there’s another one I don’t know about,” Ginny said irritably, turning away to walk to the long window that looked out on the street.

Behind her, Luna’s laugh sounded rueful. “But, of course, that is it. I had forgotten. My apologies, señora, for forgetting that you are not the mother of the other child.”

Ginny turned slowly away from the window to stare at him. “That is a lie. There is no other child.”

“Ah, but you are mistaken. There is a child, a son, I believe, who lives in New Mexico Territory with his mother.”

Suddenly cold, Ginny began to shiver uncontrollably, and moved to stand in front of the fireplace where a low blaze cast a small pool of heat beyond brass firedogs. It wasn’t true, couldn’t be true! They had no more secrets between them, had told each other everything. But she recalled with a sudden sense of nausea that it had been she who had confessed, she who told Steve about all the others in her past. He had told her nothing.

Oh, she hadn’t wanted to hear about the women, for she knew there were many, but this was different. This was something important, something she should have been told. A child was not just a casual affair, a night or two in another woman’s bed. A child changed everything.