Diego slept for a few hours despite not planning to, and woke in the softer light of late afternoon. He hated to admit it, but he had needed the rest. He sighed, as he examined his ankle.

The ankle was still weak, and he bandaged it every day as though it had been broken. The sprain had righted itself within a few days, just through his stubborn refusal to succumb. It was weak though, and he had to watch that he treated it wisely.

He glanced out the window, and remembered with a shock that he had planned to ride and practice fencing with the teenagers in his care. He hurried out of the room, determined to not disappoint, but discovered that no one was at home at all. Venturing out to the stables, he was told that Alejandro had taken the boys.

Diego was tempted to feel angry about the interference again, but he managed to deflect the emotion. His father was worried about him. They had been close once, but not now. Alejandro wanted to help him, but had no idea how to do so. A father was bound to worry if his son was not looking after himself.

He sighed, and went back into the hacienda. He glanced down at his clothes, and decided to change into something fresh. He really should have a bath, he thought, but the effort was too much, and he pushed it into the impossible realm of tomorrow. He shaved though, realising that the stumble made him look like a bandit, and neatened his moustache. He ran a brush through his hair, and stood in front of the full length mirror in his room to contemplate his appearance properly.

His suit was ill fitting, he decided with a shock. He was not one to lose or gain weight rapidly, but he had lost enough weight to make his suit jacket swim on him. He sighed. It was not like him at all to disregard his general appearance. It was all about an impression, a show. The character of the self obsessed caballero was failing him badly right now. He was obsessed with justice and the newspaper, and that could lead to more people asking questions than just his father.

In the last conversation he'd had with Francisco, his friend had been drilling into his head to tell his father. He had smiled and nodded, and let it wash over his head, but the man had a point. It was one of his last wishes as well, and surely it wasn't so hard to actually tell Alejandro the truth.

Diego shook his head at himself, and sighed again. How could he tell anyone the truth? He had been lying for far too long…it would be terribly uncomfortable…everyone would hate him and berate him for lying. Not to mention the dangers that would surface somehow. His father was not normally a calm man. He was not as young, or as fit as he once was. If he became involved on any level it would be a risk too great. No, the man must never know anything about it at all.

Diego delved into forgotten chests, that he had been storing for Felipe. Hand me downs of old suits made for a more slender Diego may fit better until he managed to put the weight back on. He managed to find a royal blue suit almost the same as his usual one, and it fitted perfectly. He had been eighteen, and a little taller than Felipe when he had last worn it. It smelled of lavender and cedar, but was completely well preserved.

The trousers had been taken up by Maria, but it was a simple enough matter to break stitches and lower the length to the appropriate size.

Zzz

Diego took it upon himself to make sure he was more available to his father. Neither of them apologised for the outburst the following day, but they sat at breakfast together as if nothing had happened.

Alejandro noticed with satisfaction that his son was taking more of an interest in his appearance. The teenage boys were busy gobbling down eggs and bacon to their heart's content, and required a little prompting to remember their manners. When they were excused, Alejandro glanced up at his son.

"The newspaper is very informative today…as always…"

"Yes," Diego said softly, biting into a bread roll, and chewing, giving him a chance to avoid conversation for a moment.

"The boys are very advanced riders, Diego. I didn't realise you were such a good teacher."

"Well, Felipe is a natural. Stefano has been taught the basics already. They are teenage boys…they like adventure."

"The fencing…All that came from a book, Diego?"

Diego glanced at him, and took a sip of the hot coffee, nodding. "It's amazing what you can find out in books. The masters of the sword convey so much information in those publications, Father. It's like being in the same room sometimes."

Alejandro stared at him for a few minutes and nodded strangely, making Diego nervous.

"Diego, if you ever need to talk to me about anything, I promise I will make time. You can talk to me about anything…anything at all. You are my son, and whatever you need to tell me, I will try to understand."

"Father, there is nothing…nothing at all."

"I have grieved over many people…you have grieved over just a few," Alejandro said softly. "Losing someone you care about suddenly can affect you terribly. I speak from experience."

"I know. When I have something to say…I will find you."

Zzz

The party was boring, immensely boring. At least it was to Diego. Many parties were incredibly boring, but this was one of the worst. He smiled, and nodded, and talked to extremely dull and uneducated rich ladies. He couldn't even admire their beauty, because if they were beautiful he was reminded immediately of Victoria. Some of them wore makeup to extremes, and he had to swallow laughter many times to keep a straight face.

His host rose to his feet, to give a toast. "To Maximillian Destara, may he live a long and happy life!" The gentlemen rose and repeated the toast, but Diego didn't, going through the motions as far as propriety called for. His father nudged him, startling him out of a stiff numbness, and he murmured the toast under his breath for Alejandro's benefit.

The men watched as the ladies left the table to wander off to the parlour or wherever, Diego was never quite sure where ladies went to when the men had their liquors and coffees and cigars. The air became thick with cigar smoke, and Diego had to control a cough reflex, remembering his manners in time.

"Tell us, Destara, about life on the front line…" One of the young dons asked. Diego regarded him with a slight interest. Don Raoul was seventeen, about the same age as Felipe and Stefano. Why he had been allowed to attend his father's party was a mystery to Diego, but he wasn't one to criticise another's parenting. It was merely a curiosity.

Destara rattled off story after story, some increasing in drama to the extent that Diego could see the inklings of truth in amongst the exaggerations and lies. Diego yawned, and his father kicked him lightly under the table.

"How has your life been, here in Los Angeles, Diego?" Destara asked, surprising Diego out of his lethargy.

"Well, personally my life is pretty uneventful, Destara. Apart from the newspaper that I set up, there is not much for a caballero such as myself to do out here."

"The ranch must take up a great deal of time," Destara said, trying to ease up on him.

"Diego? Ha!" An older don responded, and Diego glanced down. "All Diego is good for is nonsensical poetry and science experiments…" The familiar laughter hurt a little as usual, but it was normal for the dons to respond to any mention of Diego with ridicule.

Destara frowned, and waited for Diego to speak.

"The ranch is indeed very busy," Diego murmured. "I have many pursuits as well. I believe that a man is meant to keep learning all his life."

"That's interesting, Diego. I find that fascinating. You do realise the advancement of weaponry in Europe relies on scientific endeavour. You may become very useful in Madrid, if you keep experimenting."

"Oh, I dislike bloodshed. I avoid any experiments with potential to harm."

Destara looked a little confused, and sighed. "Diego," he said quietly. "What has happened to you?"

Diego ignored him, and diverted his attention to the old don seated next to him, who began telling him all about his treasured pet dogs. He found himself nodding, and agreeing to things he wasn't even sure of.

Diego was aware that Destara regarded him with confusion.