“Lumpkin County, Georgia. And you, Mr. Jannison?”

“Boston. You came by ship, I assume?”

“No, sir. Wagon train.”

His eyes widen. “But you’re so . . .”

“I’m not at all a proper lady, and don’t you dare imply that I am.” I say it with a smile, hoping he understands my mood.

“I wouldn’t dream of making such a gauche insinuation!” he declares with mock affront. “Did you arrive with your parents?”

“I came alone. But I’m not alone anymore.”

“But you said you are unmarried.”

Beside us, Henry is now dancing with a strange man, chatting at him with as much comfort and animation as I’ve ever seen.

“I have many friends,” I say, smiling.

“I see.” But I can tell he doesn’t, and this conversation is growing tiresome.

“Mr. Jannison,” I say, “do you happen to know a Mr. James Henry Hardwick? He’s a business partner of my uncle’s, and I’d dearly love to make his acquaintance.”

Mr. Jannison’s cheeks are already bright red with the exertion of dancing. “All of Sacramento knows Mr. Hardwick!” he says. “He’s a member of the city council, and he owns more acreage than—”

“Oh, I’d be so delighted if you could introduce me!”

“Of course! He is a personal friend, you know. Right this way, my dear.”

Well, that was easy. I allow him to lead me away, but I quickly cast around the ballroom for my friends. Henry sees me first, and when I nod to him, he makes apologies to his dancing partner and moves to follow. Jefferson stands beside one of the food tables, staring glumly into a cup full of punch as if trying to augur something. My gesture to get his attention is less than subtle, and he sets down his cup and follows too.

I sense the two of them falling in line behind me as we make our way to a curved stair with a shiny banister wrapped in garlands. I don’t see Tom anywhere nearby, but hopefully he’ll notice us and join soon.

Several smartly dressed men cluster together on the steps. It seems as though they are deep in counsel, purposely posed in a spot from which they can survey their domain—and easily be seen, as well. I feel my hackles go up, and I’m not sure why, except maybe that they remind me of my uncle. Even the way they stand, the way they talk and carry themselves, speaks of power and a deep sense of their personal place in the world.

“Excuse me, good sirs,” Mr. Jannison says. “Please forgive the interruption.”

The men cease their discussion to turn as one and stare at us.

“This young lady would like to make the acquaintance of Councilman Hardwick,” he continues blithely. “Naturally I thought to bring her over before her dance card filled.”

“How gracious of you,” a man with white hair says dryly. He has harsh cheekbones and sideburns as fluffy as rabbit cottontails.

Mr. Jannison beams, but it occurs to me that Mr. Jannison’s assertion of personal friendship might be much exaggerated.

“You are Miss Westfall, I presume?” the white-haired man says. “I heard you announced as you entered.”

“Yes. Are you Mr. Hardwick?”

“I am he.”

“Then I believe we have some business to attend to.”

He smiles down at me as though I’m a favorite hound. “I’m attending to business right now, with these gentleman. I can make some time for you tomorrow.”

The gazes of his companions are apprising rather than friendly; calculated and prim. They are so like my uncle that I almost walk away, defeated.

“You will treat with me now, sir,” I say in as firm a voice as I can muster. “I’m in Sacramento today only. Surely these gentlemen would not begrudge a lady in need this small bit of your time?”

One of the other men laughs. “We’ll continue this later, James,” he says, placing a companionable hand on Hardwick’s shoulder.

Hardwick frowns. “Thank you, Governor Burnett.”

My eyes widen. The governor?

Governor Burnett turns to me. “It’s nice to finally see you in the flesh. Though you are markedly less golden than advertised.”

I force a smile and wave nonchalantly. “You know these miners and their tall tales.”

“Indeed.” And with a look of dismissal, the governor steps down the stairs and onto the dance floor, the other men following in his wake.

Now it’s just me and a flustered Mr. Jannison, Jefferson and Henry at our backs, gazing up at my uncle’s patron. I don’t like having him look down on me from the stairs, so I step up beside him, bringing us closer to eye level. He frowns.

“I understand you blew up my mine,” he says for an opening sally.

“My uncle told me it was his mine,” I say. “And it collapsed in a bad storm.”

Mr. Jannison looks back and forth between us, eyes wide, then beats a hasty retreat. Were I a betting woman, I’d lay odds he’ll never invite me to dance again.

“With the help of a little gunpowder, they say,” Hardwick insists. I don’t contradict him. Better for everyone to blame gunpowder than magic. “I could have you jailed for the destruction of my property. I’ve been considering it.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Jefferson mutters.

“I have a much better idea,” I say quickly, before Jefferson gets us in trouble.

Hardwick raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I understand my uncle still owed you four thousand dollars.”

“He did. But he’ll be unable to pay. Apparently your sabotage has ruined him. Besides that, I’m not certain he’s in his right mind anymore.”

I guess that means he survived Wilhelm’s laudanum. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“He was never in his right mind,” Tom says, and I’m so relieved that he has finally joined us. “Hiram Westfall is a thief and a murderer. I’m sorry you got taken in by such a wicked fellow.”

Hardwick glares. “And who are you?”

“Thomas Bigler, attorney, of Illinois College,” he says proudly. It’s the first time I’ve heard him own up to being a real lawyer, and I can’t help my smile.

“I see,” Hardwick says. “Well, I must say I’m not surprised to hear that. He seemed polished and intelligent when we met, and he claimed a great deal of mining experience. But he was in terrible shape when I fetched him.”