‘Looks like Señor Lacuna won’t get the chance to adore you.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, whirling round to him.

‘Well, how can he compete when you’re far too in love with yourself?’

‘Oh, stop it!’ she hushed, grabbing a cushion from the chair and throwing it at him.

Arlo laughed and braced as it landed on him. Like he could talk! He was dressed to the hilt too. All the Mendoza men were wearing new black trousers beribboned on the outer leg, elaborate black silk bowknots at their necks and immaculately cut cropped jackets. In fact it was a wonder to Nene her brother was able to move with such abandon, for he looked every bit as corseted as she.

‘Are you nervous?’ he asked, watching as she began fussing with her hair. The styling was fiddly, looping down to her neck in a net but leaving enough room for the angle of her hat.

‘Of course not. Indigo could do this in his sleep.’

‘He’s unpredictable.’

She tossed her head haughtily, securing the hairstyle with pins. ‘For you maybe. He and I understand one another. He won’t put a foot wrong tonight. We’ve been practising for months for this.’

‘I overheard Señor Martin telling father they can get a king’s ransom for him. They’re putting him out to stud, you know.’

Nene shrugged. ‘They can do what they like. Even his babies will be pale imitations of their father. There’ll never be another horse like him.’

‘No? Four legs, tail, black, bad-tempered, highly strung—’

She threw another cushion his way and he laughed again as it hit him square in the face. ‘What would you know? All you can think about are bulls. Bulky, stupid, plodding bulls.’

‘You wouldn’t call them that if they were running behind you.’

She put on the hat, fiddling to get the right angle, casting a nervous glance over her completed look, then turned to him. ‘What do you think?’ She bit her lip nervously. For all her and Arlo’s jokes about her marrying into the Lacunas, she knew that tonight was important to her parents and her showpiece with Indigo was the denouement before dinner and later, dancing: an embodiment of precision, grace, control, power and elegance, it was to represent everything the Mendozas were and wanted to be.

Arlo didn’t respond for a moment, pretending to look pained by the sight of her. ‘. . . Not bad for an ogre,’ he shrugged.

‘Beast!’ she laughed, reaching for another cushion to throw his way but she was all out. ‘Lucky for you!’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he scoffed. ‘Or else you’d have me running scared?’

‘You know I would,’ she said defiantly, a smile on her lips.

‘Little Nene, our baby, you are the toughest of us all,’ Arlo grinned, jumping up from the bed again. ‘Come on, I’ll escort you to the stables. I worry for your safety looking like that. Felix Lacuna will want to make passionate love to you as soon as he sets sight on you.’