Raquel was sitting in Elena's drawing room for the first time all week. With her first ball approaching, she was very busy at home with the arrangements, and she didn't have much time to see her friend. When she came in, Elena had immediately told her that she was planning to move to her house in London in three days, in order to keep a closer eye on her charities there.

"Aren't you even staying for my ball?" Raquel had asked, disappointed.

Elena shook her head.

"No, I'm not. I don't mean to snub you, Raquel, but there are people who need my help."

Raquel nodded. "I understand."

And now Elena was looking at her in that candid way she had, and asked:

"Why don't you join me?"

"Join you?" Raquel frowned. "In London?"

"After your ball, of course", Elena said. "But you seem to enjoy the work and you're very good at it. I could use someone like you in town."

"I can't do that", Raquel said automatically. "I'm sure that Sergio wouldn't want to go to London for any extended period of time, and I have to stay with my husband."

"Why?" Elena said. "He doesn't need you."

Raquel swallowed – that stung, and she knew it stung because it was true.

Elena shook her head apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Raquel, I didn't mean to be so blunt. I simply meant that he got along fine with just a housekeeper for many years before you came along, so I'm sure he'd survive your absence for a few months. And you have no children to stay home for. That may not be true for much longer, so if I were you, I'd take advantage of this time before you become a mother."

Raquel reflected that that might take longer than Elena thought – Sergio had still not made a single move in that regard – but she felt like Elena didn't need to know that.

"I can't just go to London without my husband though, it wouldn't be proper."

"Women can travel alone in order to visit relatives or friends without anyone raising an eyebrow. If you stayed with me or your sister-in-law, it would be a perfectly proper arrangement."

Raquel had to admit that she was sorely tempted. She did enjoy her work with Elena – it gave her a lot of satisfaction to feel like she was being useful to society in some way, and she loved the challenges of the job. But she knew a wife's first duty was to her husband, and if she left Sergio for several months just when the social season in the country was ending and they would finally have some time alone together, she would never get any closer to him. So she shook her head regretfully.

"No, Elena. Thank you for the offer, but I can't accept."

Elena shrugged. "Suit yourself. Consider it a standing invitation. I probably won't return here until spring, so if you want to join me at any point during the autumn or winter – say, when you're dying of boredom – my door is always open."

Raquel felt a sudden pang of sadness. Autumn and winter were going to be very lonely, with Tatiana and Monica back in their respective houses, and a husband who barely talked.

"I'll miss you."

Elena didn't hold with such sentimentality, however.

"Nonsense, Raquel. Just come visit me in town as often as you can."

…

Raquel didn't have much time to miss her friend over the next few days, however. The day of the ball was approaching rapidly, and there was just so much to do. Monica had gone home, but Raquel was infinitely grateful for the presence of Tatiana, who directed the staff like a general and found a solution to every problem. Apart from the thousand little concerns that the ball brought with it, Raquel mostly worried about Sergio. Up until now when they'd had company, he had been able to withdraw to his study after a while without seeming too rude, but when a ball was thrown, the host would be expected to be in attendance from beginning to end, and he would be expected to dance as well – something she knew he disliked. Like every gentleman, he had been taught to dance when he was young, but he'd told her quite early on that it made him feel uncomfortable, and he hadn't danced with her once during the few balls they had attended together. She just hoped he would be able to dance with the ladies of rank without accidentally offending anyone – this ball was so important to establish her reputation as a hostess, and she wanted everything to go well.

The night of the ball was warm and clear. Raquel had been too nervous to sleep the night before, and she felt tired and overwrought from the weeks of preparation, but she had to admit that the house looked splendid. Every room had been cleaned meticulously – the floorboards scrubbed, the windows cleaned, the curtains washed and hung with extra care. Every single piece of brass and silver in the house had been polished until it shone, and a small army of gardeners had been hired to trim the hedges and hang lanterns in the trees. Raquel was proud of her home, proud that people would see that she managed her house competently and fulfilled her duties as the wife to a lord.

Sergio had been particularly withdrawn over the last couple of days, and Raquel knew he disliked the bustle in the house, the noise, the additional servants bumping into him in the hallways and cleaning rooms where he wanted to sit quietly and read. After weeks of preparations, she could see that he was reaching the limit of what he could endure, and she was glad that it was almost over. She knew he dreaded the ball itself as well, but at least that was only one night.

In the early evening, Raquel put on the white dress which she hadn't worn since the wedding, and Annie did her hair with utmost care. Then Raquel went downstairs to the ballroom, which would be used for the first time in years, to find Sergio dressed in his wedding clothes as well. He gave her a tentative smile, and she thought how handsome he was, and how he'd been smiling at her more often lately, how she sometimes turned to find him looking at her. She thought that was a good sign. And tonight, they would dance together and he would actually touch her, he would take her hand and put his arm around her waist and pull her close, and she hoped – she hoped so fervently – that he would discover that he felt comfortable touching her, and that it would be a first step towards more physical intimacy. But for now, they positioned themselves at the door of the ballroom so that, as the host and hostess, they could greet people as they came in, and soon, the first guests started to arrive. Raquel saw them come in with a sudden surge of nervousness, and she just prayed that everything would go well tonight.

…

Sergio felt awful. He had been shaking hands with people for what felt like hours, trying to remember the names of all of his neighbors, and still guests were streaming in. The ballroom was crowded and hot, and he was sweating in his suit, while the noise of people talking and laughing in combination with the music was giving him a splitting headache. Finally his wife turned to him and said:

"I think everyone is here."

He nodded in relief, though of course the night was far from over.

She smiled up at him. "Shall we join the dancers?"

He stared at her. Was she really expecting him to dance? He already felt exhausted.

"Can… can we wait an hour or so?"

"Of course", she said. "We can talk to our guests first."

She left his side, and he scanned the room, looking for people he would feel comfortable with, but before he could move, some neighbors had already come up to him and started a conversation. He tried to get away – he could see his brother on the other side of the room – but every time he moved, more people stopped him to congratulate him on the ball and on his wife. When she appeared at his side again after an hour, he felt even more exhausted than before.

She held out her hand with a smile.

"Shall we? I like this song."

His head was throbbing.

"Maybe later."

A slight frown appeared on her face.

"Sergio, you're the host, people expect you to dance."

"I'm sure nobody cares."

"I care. It will look bad if my own husband doesn't dance at the ball I'm throwing."

What if he did something wrong? He hadn't danced in years and years, what if he messed it up? What if he tripped – or worse, made his partner trip? Everybody would be looking at him. He didn't want to embarrass himself – but mostly, he didn't want to embarrass his wife.

"I'm sorry, I can't."

"Sergio…"

She looked disappointed, but it couldn't be helped. He wasn't risking it.

"I can't", he said, a little desperately. "I wish I could, but I really can't."

She observed him quietly for a moment, but then, to his relief, she nodded.

"I understand", she said gently. "If you don't want to dance, you don't have to."

She turned around, touched his brother on the arm, and soon she was dancing with him. All evening, Sergio suffered through the heat and the noise, the inane conversation, the headache which became worse and worse. A thousand times, he wished that he could just leave, go to his study and close the door and read, but he knew that would be humiliating for his wife, so he endured it all, for her sake.

…

Raquel divided her time between socializing with her guests and dancing with whoever asked her. She kept looking over at Sergio, who stood in the same spot next to the wall all evening, so desperately awkward, only speaking when someone went over to talk to him, and she felt torn between pity and annoyance. She could see that he was miserable and she felt for him, but this was one of the most important social events of her life. Couldn't he make a little more effort? She knew by now that he hadn't wanted to marry her, but was it too much to ask for him to perform his duties as a host, just this one night, for her sake? She'd put so much effort into this ball, yet now she was afraid that, tomorrow, people would mostly be talking about her husband's behavior.

The evening seemed to go on forever, but finally the guests started leaving. She looked for Sergio – they should take up position by the door again to say goodbye – but he'd disappeared. She looked for him everywhere in the room, but he was nowhere to be found, and finally she had to conclude that he had left and gone to his study, and she was faced with the embarrassing task of standing by the door alone to see off the guests, telling everyone her husband had become unwell. By the time the last people had gone, she was feeling thoroughly embarrassed and exhausted. She told the servants they could stop for the night and continue cleaning in the morning, then said goodnight to Andrés and Tatiana before they went upstairs.

"My dear Raquel", Tatiana said, kissing her on both cheeks. "This night was a triumph."

"Yes", Raquel said stiffly, "I suppose it could have gone worse."

"What are you talking about, everything went splendidly", Tatiana said, but Raquel could see that she was well aware of what was bothering her.

Andrés grinned at her.

"Don't be too mad at him, Raquel, he can't help it. He's always been like that."

She merely nodded.

"Are you going to bed?" Tatiana asked.

"In a minute", she said. "I need to talk to him."

…

He had tried to stick it out, he really had, but finally he just couldn't take it anymore. He'd never been so exhausted in his life, and the headache had become nearly unbearable, so when he thought the evening was winding to a close and he'd done his duty, he tactfully retreated to his study, where it was blessedly cool and quiet. He just sat behind his desk for a while, too tired even to read, just enjoying the absence of noise. In the distance, he heard the guests begin to leave, and he was glad that this awful day was almost over. Just a little longer, and he could go up to bed.

He was sunk in thought when there was a sudden knock on his door, then his wife came in without waiting for an answer. He could see immediately that something was wrong.

"Where have you been?" she said.

He got up and frowned. "Here."

"Are you ill?"

He hesitated. "Well, I'm not dying, but I do have a terrible headache."

She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"You really couldn't have stayed for one more hour, Sergio?"

"Why? People were starting to leave."

"Exactly!" she said. "You were supposed to be there with me to see them off!"

He blinked. Damn it, he'd completely forgotten about that – just when he thought he'd done everything he was supposed to do. He realized with a sinking feeling that, even though he'd tried so hard, he'd messed up after all, and now she was upset.

"Maybe you don't care about what other people think, but I do" she said quietly. "I don't ask much of you, Sergio, but could you really not have tried a little harder tonight?"

He felt guilty, but he had tried, he'd really tried! He'd been there almost from start to finish, he'd talked to everyone who had come to talk to him, he'd endured the heat and the noise and this blasted headache for hours – he'd tried his best.

"I did try", he said apologetically. "I'm really sorry I wasn't…"

"I had to stand by the door alone", she said, not listening to him, her cheeks getting red. "You embarrassed me in front of the entire neighborhood."

Oh, he was so tired. He felt so frustrated at everything – at himself and at this entire situation.

"Look", he said, "I'm sorry, I really did try, but I never wanted any of this!"

"Oh, I know", she said, and he could see that she was upset. "I know you never wanted any of this, you never wanted a social life, you never wanted a wife, you never wanted me."

He blinked. Where was this coming from?

She wasn't done.

"But you couldn't you have tried a little harder for me tonight?" There was a trace of bitterness in her voice as she continued. "I try so hard to be considerate towards you, the least you can do is return the favor, even if you did only marry me for my money."

Why was she saying that in such an accusatory tone?

"I was never anything but honest about that", he said defensively.

She gave him a bitter look.

"Oh, yes, you certainly were. I was just too stupid to understand."

He frowned. What did she mean? Something was bothering her, something that went beyond his behavior tonight, but what?

"Miss Murillo…" he started, but suddenly her eyes flashed with anger.

"Will you stop calling me that! I am your wife, Sergio! Do you even realize that? Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He stared at her, not knowing how to respond to that. Of course he knew that she was his wife, but he also understood why she was asking that – because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get fully used to the idea. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Why was she saying that? And then it hit him. Had she expected more from him than he had been giving her? Had their arrangement not been purely practical for her? The thought took him completely by surprise, and was immediately followed by another, more worrisome thought: was she unhappy? He had never considered that possibility… he'd genuinely thought that, as long as she could do whatever she wanted, she'd be happy… Had he been mistaken? It wouldn't be so strange if he'd misinterpreted things, really – he was terrible at reading other people – had he been wrong about what she wanted since the beginning? He looked at her more closely and realized with a feeling of alarm that she was, indeed, unhappy. Oh, this was terrible. How had this happened? How could he fix this? He didn't want her to be unhappy, he desperately wanted to make it right, but he didn't know what to do. He thought he knew what she wanted him to say, but… but he couldn't just lie to her? So he just kept looking at her, not knowing what in the world he should say.

…

She looked at him, and she saw realization dawn in his eyes as he suddenly understood why she was so upset. For a moment, she hoped that it would change things – she foolishly hoped that he might tell her he cared for her – but of course he didn't, and now she felt a terrible sense of doubt set in. He would never love her, would he? Not the way she wanted to be loved… she had been so naïve for thinking that she could make it happen if only she tried hard enough. She could see that he felt terribly sorry, and that made her realize that he did care for her… just not the way she wanted him to care. It hurt, but of course he couldn't help it if… if he didn't love her. Nevertheless, she couldn't bear his pity – she couldn't bear it. She suddenly realized that she couldn't stay here anymore now that he knew – it was too humiliating. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Elena invited me to join her in London", she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I think I'll go."

"If that would make you happy, you should", he said quietly.

She realized that he had always wanted what was best for her – that, even now, he was trying to be considerate. Knowing that he was trying to be kind made tears burn behind her eyes, and she decided to leave before he could see her cry.

"Goodbye, Sergio."

And she turned around, and walked out of the study and out of his life. He didn't try to stop her.

…

He watched her go with a feeling of total helplessness. He wanted to say something to stop her, but he knew he couldn't give her what he suspected she wanted from him, and if she would be happier in London… who was he to stop her? He knew himself – he didn't have anything to offer her in… in the way of love, and he had promised her absolute freedom – she had every right to go wherever she wanted to go to find better things. He supposed that, actually, her moving to London would be better for everyone involved… so why did he feel so empty? He sat down heavily in his desk chair and stared at the door, too exhausted to think clearly anymore. He heard people move around upstairs for a while, then noises on the stairs and in the front hall, and finally he heard the front door slam and the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel outside.

He slowly got up and wandered up the stairs. The door to her room was open, and he stepped inside and looked around. She had taken all of her belongings – she wasn't planning on coming back. She had left only two things. One was a book of chess strategies on her night stand. The other, lying ghostly white on the bed, was her wedding dress.