William Brandon frowned slightly. “I agree it is unwise of her to go, especially now, with Díaz threatening to take over the presidency. Damn him, it could ruin everything I’ve worked for this past year if he does manage to overthrow Lerdo. Another revolution endangers my new investments.”

Sonya paused in brushing her hair, her arm still lifted and lamplight gleaming on the silver-backed hairbrush in one hand. “You have investments in Mexico as well?”

“Of course. It’s legal, and quite profitable. Since Congress passed laws allowing railroad access into Mexico, it’s smoothed the way to transport raw and smelted ore back into the United States. I stand to make more money than ever now that President Grant’s Specie Resumption Act has made greenbacks redeemable in gold or silver coin. Dr. Durant’s lobbying has paid off for all of us, it seems.”

In the sudden silence, he laughed wryly. “Don’t tell me you disapprove? But my dear, that would be so hypocritical of you. It’s the money I’ve made from Mexican mines that purchased the Delery plantation, and even that hairbrush you’re using.”

Sonya dropped the hairbrush as if burned, and whirled to face him, her pale face rigid with distaste. “Do you have any scruples at all, William?”

His tone hard, he said, “More than you at times, my dear. After all, it was you who slept with your son-in-law, wasn’t it?”

“Damn you! You know very well that was a long time ago, during the war when you were so far away and he…he was so persistent. And that was before he’d even met Ginny, so don’t pretend otherwise.” Hugging her arms around her body, clad in a silk peignoir that floated around her like soft ivory mist, Sonya turned away again and moved to the long windows that looked out on a small balcony. “Oh God, it seems that my penance for it is to be forever haunted by him. I wish he would go to Mexico and stay there! It would be better if I never had to see him again, hear him call me Belle-Mère in that drawling contemptible voice, and know that he remembers everything—”

Halting abruptly, she whirled back around to face her husband, still seated in a straight-backed chair near the fire. “You have no excuse, William. Whether you want to admit it or not, the world knows Ginny as your daughter. You still love her, I think, though at times I wonder what you really do love. Did you ever love me, I wonder….”

“You’re talking rubbish.” He stamped a foot irritably on the thick carpet spread near the hearth. “Plain rubbish.”

“Am I? I don’t think so.”