Over the next few days, Raquel received countless invitations – to tea, to dinner, to soirees and music evenings and balls. As a noble lady new to the neighborhood, it seemed that every good family for miles around wanted to get to know her, and Raquel was pleased about that, eager to get to know her neighbors. She enjoyed dressing up and going out, meeting new people and having stimulating conversations. There was only one thing that bothered her: all of the invitations, in combination with the charity work she was now doing with Elena, meant that she was rarely home anymore, and she barely got to spend any time with Sergio. They exchanged a few words over breakfast, and then he disappeared into his study while she went over to the village or to Elena's house, where she usually had lunch. In the afternoon, there were countless social calls, then dinners and entertainment. It was all a little overwhelming, but Raquel knew this was a crucial period to establish herself socially in the neighborhood, and she didn't dare refuse a single invitation because that would risk offending someone. She knew things would quiet down again after a few weeks, once she'd met everyone, but in the meantime, she was starting to despair of ever getting to know her new husband.

Of course, some of the invitations included Lord Marquina as well, and he often accompanied her, especially to the dinners. He'd seemed surprised when she first asked him – apparently the neighbors had stopped inviting him to things years ago – but he seemed to understand how bad it would look if she showed up without him, so he bought a few new suits and went with her when she asked. He never complained, but after a few of these events, she could see that they made him truly miserable – he merely sat quietly, not engaging with anyone, only speaking when spoken to, discomfort evident in every line of his body. So she started going places without him, making excuses for his absence, calculating how many events she could show up to alone before people would start to talk. She tried to spare him as much as possible, though she didn't think he realized it, as there were still plenty of engagements he simply couldn't miss.

What few interactions they had remained stiff and awkward. They simply didn't have the time or opportunity to move beyond some superficial questions about their day or discussions about the running of the household. She kept looking for ways to connect to him, and she kept hoping that he would join her in the bedroom once he felt more at ease around her, but he never did. After a few days, she tried talking to him about it, but the moment she brought up their wedding night, he hastily got up, made an excuse, and left. After that, she didn't bring it up again – she was afraid that, if she pressured him too much, he would start avoiding her altogether, and then it would never happen. As she gradually got to know him better over the weeks, she started to suspect that he would never be comfortable with physical intimacy before they had built an emotional connection first. She realized that it would take time and effort to get to that point, and because of her current busy schedule, she had to resign herself to the fact that it would have to wait until after things calmed down. It frustrated her, but she didn't feel discouraged – after all, they had a lifetime to find their way to each other. A few weeks of waiting wouldn't make the difference.

…

Sergio wondered how he had come to this. When he'd agreed to marry, he'd thought having a wife wouldn't make that much of a difference to his life – he'd thought it would merely mean another person in the house and some conversation over dinner. From what Miss Murillo had told him before he proposed, he'd assumed that she would spend a lot of her time out of the house and he would barely notice she was there. That's what he'd believed, that's what he'd counted on. He hadn't for a moment considered the stream of invitations that would suddenly arrive for his wife, and he'd considered even less that many of those invitations would include him as well, and that he'd have to accompany her for the sake of propriety. He suffered through the many social events as best he could, trying not to embarrass his wife too much and longing for the days when things would quiet down again.

But then something horrible happened. After several weeks of visiting neighbors, his wife declared that they would now have to return the favor and invite all of the neighbors to visit them, and suddenly his house was flooded with people – guests for tea and for dinner, soirees afterwards. Overnight, an army of new servants manifested itself out of nowhere to take on all the work this caused. He hated all of it – his house, his sanctuary, overrun with strangers, and no way to escape. His wife assured him that this was only temporary – once they had invited everyone once, their social obligations would significantly reduce again, but in the meantime, he fled to his study as often as he reasonably could without being too rude, and deeply regretted marrying. Perhaps it would have been preferable to have Tatiana and the children in the house after all – but it was too late for that now. He would just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

…

Six weeks after their wedding, just when things began to calm down again, Tatiana and the children arrived for their yearly visit. It was customary for London families to spend the summer with their relatives in the country, and they would stay for two months, so Tatiana could help Raquel with the organization of her first ball, which was an important event in the life of any newly-married lady of rank. Raquel was apprehensive about this visit beforehand, because she dreaded that Andrés would also become a permanent fixture in her house – but her brother-in-law only flitted in and out for sporadic visits, and Raquel liked Tatiana and the children. Her sister-in-law spent quite a bit of time complaining about her husband, but Raquel felt that that was entirely warranted, and the rest of the time Tatiana was pleasant company. Raquel had the sense that some of her spirit had been crushed by nine years of marriage to Andrés and by the care for seven children, but underneath it all, Tatiana was still an intelligent and lively woman. She was an excellent pianist, she had great taste in jewelry, and she always remained calm under pressure, even when seven children were clamoring for her attention all at once. After several weeks, Monica and her children joined them for a two-week visit as well, and the three women got along very well.

The only problem, once again, was Sergio. Now that they had guests in the house all of the time, and since he still showed no interest in joining her in the bedroom, they didn't have a single moment alone together. Raquel observed him with his family, and she noticed the comfortable way he talked to his brother and the relative ease with which he spoke with Tatiana, and her observations caused a complicated mix of feelings. On the one hand, it hurt her that he still made no effort whatsoever to talk to her, but on the other hand it was encouraging to see that he did talk, even to Tatiana, and it gave her hope for the future. Patience – she repeated the word over and over again like a mantra – she knew she should have patience, but it was hard, because even though she couldn't really connect to him, that didn't stop her from liking him. He was kind and considerate in his own way, and once she observed him with Delia, she started to really appreciate the hidden aspects of his character.

Sergio spent a lot of time with his goddaughter, and Raquel often saw them with their heads together, talking quietly, looking at the pictures in his encyclopedia or studying the globe. They spent hours behind the piano, and Raquel marveled at the infinite patience her husband showed when it came to teaching Delia to play, while Tatiana complained that her daughter had never shown any interest in the instrument when she had tried to teach her. Delia took to asking Uncle Sergio to read her bedtime stories, and he always obliged her. Raquel loved to watch them together, because it showed how gentle he was, how caring – it showed that the distant and purely cerebral façade he presented to her was just that – a façade. She hoped that, sooner or later, he would drop it, and be himself around her.

…

Sergio liked it when Tatiana and the children visited him in the summer. Granted, it was always a relief when they left again, too, but while they were here, he tried to make the most of it. It helped that it was summer and the children spent most of their time outside, limiting the noise in the house, and though he often felt tired from having constant company, there were many aspects of these visits that he enjoyed too. He liked it that his brother dropped by regularly, he liked that Tatiana played the piano in the evenings, and most of all he liked to spend time with his goddaughter. This summer, for some reason, was even more pleasant than usual, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. He just knew that his life was finally settling down again, and he was in a better mood than he had been since the wedding.

He was gradually becoming used to the idea of having a wife, and somehow, as the weeks passed, he began to notice her more, and he realized that, perhaps, he didn't mind her so much. She was a cheerful and lively presence in the house, brightening every room she entered, and always kind and considerate towards him, always careful not to ask too much of him, which he appreciated. He was glad to see that she got along well with Tatiana, and when her best friend Monica arrived a few weeks later, he got the sense that she was finally starting to feel at home. Her laughter often resonated through the rooms of the house, and after a while he noticed that it always involuntarily made him smile. During meals or at tea time on the terrace, his eyes often turned to her automatically, and he sometimes caught himself observing her for several minutes at a time. He still didn't know what to say to her, but her presence in his house had stopped feeling so jarring. He thought that, over time, he might come to feel as comfortable around her as he felt around Tatiana.

One evening, he went upstairs to read to Delia at bedtime. The girl was already in bed, tucked in under a crisp white sheet, and he carefully sat down beside her.

"Uncle Sergio?"

"Yes, Delia?"

The girl held out a blue hair ribbon.

"Do you like my new ribbon?"

"Uhm… yes, it's… quite pretty."

"Aunt Raquel gave it to me."

"Did you thank her properly?"

"Yes. I like Aunt Raquel."

He blinked, surprised. Delia usually needed a lot of time to warm up to strangers.

"You do?"

"Yes. She's nice."

Yes, he thought, that did seem to be the prevailing opinion about his wife. If he really thought about it, he was inclined to agree. But anyway, he was here for a specific purpose.

"What story will it be tonight, Delia?"

"The White Cat", she whispered, and he picked up the book of fairytales and leafed through to the correct page. Before he could start reading, however, he suppressed a yawn – he had stayed up late reading yesterday, and he hadn't gotten much sleep. Delia noticed.

"Are you tired?"

"Yes, a little."

"Then you should lie down", she said.

He hesitated, but when she shifted over to make room for him, he couldn't resist. He kicked off his shoes and lay down, though he stayed on top of the sheets. Delia wriggled over to him and settled herself against his chest, like she had done when she was a toddler. He smiled and wrapped a careful arm around her, then he started to read. He wasn't even halfway through the story when he glanced down and saw that Delia had fallen asleep, and he was now presented with a conundrum: how to get off the bed without waking her. He decided he should wait a few more minutes until she was properly asleep, and try to leave then, so he let the book drop to his chest and closed his eyes for just a minute.

…

He had gone up to read to Delia and he stayed away for so long that Raquel went looking for him. She found him fast asleep on Delia's bed, a book open on his chest, the girl sleeping in the curve of his arm. She stood looking at them for a while, and gradually she became aware of a deep, aching longing in her chest. Why wasn't he like this with her? He was clearly capable of affection, of tenderness, of love – why not with her? What was she doing wrong? She watched him lying next to Delia, his arm protectively around her, and she wondered desperately if he would ever sleep next to her like that, if he would ever come to her bed. Seeing him with the girl made her realize that she wanted that, she wanted a family with him – but how, if he refused to come to her room? She wasn't too clear on the process of making babies, but she knew it couldn't happen without that – and it was starting to feel like that would never happen.

She decided not to wake him and went downstairs again to join Monica and Tatiana out on the terrace, where they were enjoying an evening cup of tea and some well-deserved peace and quiet now that their children were in bed.

"He fell asleep reading to Delia", Raquel said, sitting down and pouring herself a cup of tea. "I let him sleep, they looked so sweet."

"He clearly adores her", Monica said with a smile.

Tatiana nodded. "Yes, they've always had a special bond, ever since she started talking. I don't know why, he's never shown that kind of interest in the other children."

"I think they're rather similar", Monica ventured thoughtfully. "I think perhaps he sees himself in her."

"Yes", Raquel said, "I agree."

"I think he'll be a good father", Tatiana mused. "Better than his brother, anyway."

Monica turned to Raquel with shining eyes.

"Raquel… do you think you might be…?"

"No", Raquel said shortly, looking down.

"That's alright", Tatiana said. "You haven't been married that long, I'm sure it will happen soon enough. Just try not to end up with seven, Raquel, it's too much. Though if he's anything like his brother, he probably won't be able to keep his hands off you."

Raquel said nothing, her eyes on the table, and Monica put a concerned hand on her arm.

"Raquel", she said softly, "what's wrong?"

Raquel looked up at her best friend – she hadn't told her anything about this in her letters, but now that she was here, she felt all of her frustration and sadness rise up at once, and she just had to tell her.

"He hasn't touched me", she whispered. "Not once, not even on our wedding night."

The women stared at her.

"You mean…" Monica said, "you haven't…?"

"No", Raquel breathed, feeling tears burn behind her eyes.

"Oh Raquel", Monica said, her voice full of sympathy.

Tatiana had a thoughtful look in her eyes. "You know, it doesn't really surprise me."

"What do you mean?" Raquel said. "I thought… I thought men liked doing that."

Tatiana nodded slowly. "Most men do. But Sergio is not a physical person at all – he still rubs his cheek every time I greet him with a kiss, and we've known each other for a decade. I think… I think perhaps he just doesn't like to be touched."

Raquel looked at her in horror.

"So… so you don't think he just needs time to get used to me?"

"It's possible", Tatiana said quickly, but there was something in her expression that made Raquel go cold.

"You think he might never get used to me?"

"I don't know, Raquel", Tatiana said, giving her a rather helpless look. "He talks to me now, but it took him years to even get to that point."

"Years?" Raquel said, horrified.

"Yes. I'm sorry", Tatiana said, and she looked it. "I'm not saying it's impossible that it will ever happen, but I think you may have to start thinking about the possibility that he might never… be interested in you that way."

Raquel didn't know what to say. She'd realized by now that it wouldn't be easy to form a connection with her husband, but she'd never considered the possibility that it might never happen. Would they live next to each other for years, barely speaking? Would she forever sleep alone, never kissed, never touched – childless? She'd been told since she was a little girl that having a family was a woman's purpose in life, and though she had always hoped that her life would amount to more than that, she had still always counted on being a mother one day. Would she… would she really never have a family?

Tatiana seemed to regret speaking so candidly. She leaned forward and patted Raquel's hand.

"But I'm sure he'll grow fond of you in time, Raquel. He's very slow to bestow his affections, but he cares deeply about his family, and you'll become part of his family in time."

Raquel nodded, feeling numb, and Tatiana continued:

"And I'm very happy to have you in the family! And not just because you saved us."

Raquel looked up, confused, but Monica asked the question before she could:

"She saved you?"

Tatiana looked surprised. "Yes – hasn't Raquel told you? Well, it's a little embarrassing, but I don't mind you knowing. You see, my husband had a substantial debt – gambling, I know, he's virtue incarnate – the kind of debt neither he nor Sergio could pay off. If Sergio hadn't married Raquel right in time, and brought in her dowry, we would have had to sell our house and come live here."

Raquel was staring at her.

"I thought the debt wasn't that high?"

"Oh no", Tatiana said, "it was. But most of it was with an illegal moneylender, so it wasn't visible from the outside."

She frowned at Raquel.

"Why are you looking so surprised? Sergio said he told you all about this when he proposed."

Raquel suddenly remembered – yes, he had talked about his brother's debt when he proposed to her, he had told her explicitly that it was bigger than she might think, but she had waved it away – she hadn't taken him seriously. She remembered too that he'd mentioned a moneylender, but she hadn't realized what that meant, she hadn't realized that her parents wouldn't have been able to see that debt. She felt sick.

"So… so he married me… only for my dowry?" she whispered.

Tatiana was looking very uncomfortable now.

"I… I thought you knew, Raquel. Sergio told me he'd been upfront about needing the money, he said you had openly discussed it and that you'd said it wasn't a problem."

Yes, yes she had said that, and looking back on it now, she realized that he had thought that he had indeed been completely honest with her, not realizing that she didn't fully grasp the situation.

"But I'm sure he likes you as well!" Tatiana hastened to say.

"No", Raquel murmured through numb lips. "Clearly he doesn't."

"He just needs some time…" Monica tried, but Raquel wasn't listening. She looked up at Tatiana.

"Why did he think I wanted to marry him?"

"Because… because you wanted to be free to live your own life, and he would allow you to do that. And… and because you and your family wanted the aristocratic connection."

Yes, Raquel thought, yes, of course. If he was making the match for purely practical reasons, why wouldn't he expect the same of her as well? After all, she had accepted his proposal after only a week and a half.

Tatiana looked like she wanted to sink through the floor.

"You… you really didn't know?"

Raquel shook her head, and Tatiana quickly leaned forward in her chair.

"Please don't blame Sergio for this. I swear he thought he was being honest with you. He… he thought you had an arrangement – you got your freedom and your title, and we got the money we needed to pay off the debt. If he'd realized you didn't know, he never would have gone through with it!"

And now it was too late, Raquel realized with a growing sense of despair. They were married, married, and he was stuck with her for life.

"Raquel", Monica said softly, "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "No… this is my own fault. I didn't see what was right in front of me because I didn't want to see it. I wanted to believe in… in romance. But you're right, Tatiana, he was completely honest with me."

She took a deep breath, then looked straight at her sister-in-law.

"Don't tell him. It would upset him and there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Don't… don't you think it might be better to make him realize that… that you went into this marriage with very different expectations?" Monica suggested carefully.

Raquel hesitated, but the very thought of letting him know that she'd expected… that she'd expected love when he had no feelings for her whatsoever made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. And what would happen if he knew? He'd feel even more awkward around her, he'd feel obligated to spend time with her out of guilt. Was that how she wanted her marriage? He wouldn't magically start loving her that way, so why make him uncomfortable – even more uncomfortable – around her?

"No", she said firmly. "I don't want you to tell him."

She abruptly stood up.

"I'm sorry, but I need to be alone now."

"Yes", Monica nodded, looking desperately sorry for her. "We understand."

"I'm so sorry I said anything", Tatiana said, her cheeks red. "I could kick myself."

"No", Raquel said quietly. "It's better that I know. At least now I won't… I won't expect anything from him anymore."

She left her friends on the terrace and made her way up to her room. In the hallway, she almost bumped into Sergio, who immediately took three steps back. Yes, she thought bitterly, he wouldn't want to accidentally touch her.

"I fell asleep reading to Delia", he explained quickly.

She merely nodded.

"I'll let you go to bed", he said, giving her a slight bow. "Goodnight, Miss Murillo."

'Miss Murillo' – it was like a slap to the face. He still didn't see her as his wife – maybe he never would. She watched him go and her throat felt tight. Then she turned and went into her bedroom, where she let herself fall onto her bed and stared up at the canopy with unseeing eyes.

Oh, it all made so much sense now – why he'd proposed so soon, why he barely talked to her, why he didn't seem to want to spend any time with her. She also finally understood why he hadn't slept with her – he simply wasn't attracted to her. He didn't want to sleep with her, he didn't want their marriage to be a proper marriage, with companionship and intimacy and children. He didn't want her in his house – he merely tolerated her. She couldn't believe that she hadn't realized it sooner, because he couldn't have been any more obvious about it. She now saw that she had projected qualities and feelings onto him that she wanted him to have, making assumptions about his personality from observing mere glimpses of it. She felt tears sting as she realized… she'd never been more than a business deal to him. In his mind, she hadn't been a real person – she still wasn't a real person – she was just a piece in the game of chess he was playing.

How had this happened to her? She had been so careful about not wanting to marry someone who was only interested in her money, and now that was exactly what had happened. One stupid misunderstanding, and her entire life was ruined – the unfairness of it was staggering, and she felt a wave of tears rise up inside her. She turned her face into the pillow at the first sob, and it was a long time before she had cried herself to sleep.

…

In the early morning light, she woke from a broken sleep with a headache and aching eyes. She'd hovered at the edge of consciousness all night, the terrible realization of the evening not allowing her to sink into a proper sleep. In spite of that, she felt calmer as she opened her eyes, and she thought she'd be able to think more clearly now, no longer overwhelmed with emotion.

She turned onto her back and considered her options – only to come to the conclusion that she had no options. She'd married him, a contract which was unbreakable and which lasted for life. She'd heard of couples who separated, living completely separate lives in different parts of the country, but she knew that sort of thing caused a scandal and would bring shame on her family. No, she could never do that… and there was something else. Yesterday she had thought that she had only seen in him what she had wanted to see, that she had fallen for the man she wanted him to be instead of the man he really was… but was that really true?

At their first meetings, she had made an assessment of his personality from the glimpses she had seen of it, and she realized that over the past few weeks, with his family, he had been proving her right over and over again. He had shown that he was indeed a kind, sincere, honest and honorable man, just as she had suspected: considerate and caring towards his family, patient and gentle with Delia, quietly humorous with Andrés and the children. He simply wasn't capable of being that person with her yet, but she knew he could be one day, and in spite of what she'd heard yesterday, she still hoped that he might open up to her if she gave him enough time.

She suddenly realized with a stab of feeling that she wasn't ready to give up on him. She'd made a promise to be his wife and she took that seriously. And she likedhim. God help her, but she did. Oh, why did she have to like him? This would all be so much easier if it had indeed been a rational agreement, if she could just live her life and ignore him like he was ignoring her… but the image of him sleeping next to Delia rose before her eyes and she felt that aching longing again. She wanted that, she wanted that with him. If… if there was even the slightest chance that they could have that, at some point, even if it was years into the future… shouldn't she try?

She heard Tatiana: He talks to me now, but it took him years to get to that point. Well – well, she'd known from the start that she would have to be patient with him… she'd just have to be more patient than she'd thought. And he only saw Tatiana a few times a year – wouldn't he get used to her much more quickly, since they saw each other every day? In a few weeks, the summer would end, his family would move back to town, and they would be alone in the house again. Once autumn began, they would have little to no social obligations anymore. She took a deep breath, and a firm feeling of resolve settled over her as she reached her decision. It might take time, it might take years, but damn it, she would make him love her.