It was an uncomfortable ride to the little house near the corner of Royal and Hospital Street, but thankfully brief. A single gas lamp illuminated the narrow street, and a light rain had begun to fall, glistening on cobblestones and misting the air when the brougham rolled to a smooth halt before the house. Ginny was reminded once again of a layered cake, the house’s pink brick walls and delicate iron balconies like ornate frosting decorating the second story.

As the coachman leaped down and came to open the door, the vehicle dipped slightly. Ginny paused with her hand still clinging to the leather strap that dangled from the frame. Her father said, “I hope that my unpleasant conversation with your husband did not cause you any trouble, Virginia.”

Awkwardly, she half turned. “I was unaware there was any unpleasantness until now.”

“Ah, well, I would not quite call it unpleasantness, perhaps, though he and I certainly do not agree on the tense situation in Mexico. There will be another revolution unless it’s prevented. This time it could affect all the landowners there. As you are one of them, I would think you would be a bit more concerned about your holdings.”

There was a note of censure in his voice.

“William…” Sonya put a hand on his arm. “I do not think this is the right time or place—”

“My dear, there is always a right time or place for a discussion that may well affect Virginia’s future and even her well-being.” Beneath his mild tone lurked an icy rebuke, and Sonya’s hand dropped from his arm as if burned.

“It is not necessary to worry about me,” Ginny said to him firmly. “Steve is more than capable of seeing to my safety and the security of our holdings. After all, Don Francisco is still an influential man in Mexico, and is well-acquainted with both Sebastián Lerdo de Tejada and Porfirio Díaz. For that matter, so am I.”

“While I admire Señor Alvarado’s political connections, I do not think Steve’s grandfather has as much influence as you presume. He is an old man now, and has kept out of the political fray as much as possible. If I remember correctly, he was unable to keep you safe from that French Colonel Devereaux. Or am I mistaken?”

Sonya swallowed a gasp, and Ginny shuddered at the memory of the events that had changed her life so radically. Nightmares still haunted her sleep on occasion, snatches of painful memories that came only when she was powerless to hold them at bay.

Her chin came up and her gaze was direct. “No, you are quite correct. But that was not Don Francisco’s fault. It was mine alone. I made the choice. At the time I thought it was the right one.”