"How could you, Sergio?"

Tatiana was being very repetitive this morning. Sergio rubbed a hand over his eyes – he hadn't slept and his headache still wasn't gone, and Tatiana berating him wasn't helping.

"I told you", he said curtly, "she wanted to leave. What was I supposed to do?"

"Stop her!"

"How?"

"All you had to do was say that you wanted her to stay."

"I think she wanted to hear more than that", Sergio said quietly.

"Then you should have said more!"

"I wasn't going to lie to her, Tatiana."

She gave him an uncomprehending look.

"But… but she's such a lovely person. Do you really feel nothing for her?"

He sighed in frustration.

"I can't help that I'm the way I am! I've never been in love and I never will be. I thought when I proposed that that wouldn't be an issue."

"But don't you think…"

"Tatiana", Andrés said. "Let it go."

"But…"

"Let it go."

"So he's just… what? Never going to see his wife again?"

"There are plenty of married people who live separate lives."

"Do you really think that's fair to her?"

"What else can he do?"

Tatiana hesitated, then steeled herself.

"He could annul the marriage."

Andrés frowned. "How? The marriage would have to be unconsummated."

Tatiana raised her eyebrows, and his brother gave him a look of absolute incredulity.

"My god, Sergio, don't tell me you haven't slept with her."

Sergio looked down and didn't reply, and his brother let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Are you serious? Well, in that case, yes, annul the marriage and set the girl free so she can find someone else."

He shook his head.

"That's a common misconception."

"What is?"

"That an unconsummated marriage can just be annulled. It's more complicated than that: an independent doctor would have to certify that… that I'm not… physically capable of consummating the marriage. Ever."

Andrés frowned.

"So… you'd have to prove to a doctor that you're…"

"Impotent, yes."

"Well… are you?"

Sergio turned red.

"No."

"Then why the hell haven't you just…"

This time it was Tatiana who intervened:

"Andrés, leave him be."

His brother sighed. "So an annulment is out of the question?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"The only thing I can do", he said quietly. "Live without her."

He tried to tell himself that that would not be a problem. In fact, wasn't it better that she'd left for London? This way, he could finally return to his normal life – no more social events, no more hosting, no more awkwardness from having a strange woman living in his house. Peace and quiet, the way he'd always wanted it. He was sure the sinking feeling in his stomach would disappear in time.

…

"Alright. Tell me everything."

Raquel had just sat down to breakfast, and Elena lost no time in getting to the point. Raquel felt herself go red.

"There's nothing to tell. You said I could join you in London if I wanted to, so here I am."

"Please, Raquel, I'm not stupid. You show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, on the evening of your first ball, and you expect me to believe that nothing happened?"

Raquel hesitated, and Elena's expression softened.

"I won't think any less of you, Raquel. I'm sure it wasn't your fault. What did he do?"

"Nothing", Raquel said quietly.

Elena regarded her closely.

"Ah. And that's the problem, isn't it? You expected something from him and he didn't deliver."

Raquel swallowed, and Elena nodded.

"Say no more. You can stay here as long as you want."

"People will talk", Raquel whispered.

"Not for a while", Elena assured her. "Nobody needs to know you've separated – for all they know, you're just visiting and helping out a friend. Do you think the situation might be temporary?"

"No", she said in a low voice. "No, I don't think anything will change in the future."

"And you want to keep up appearances?"

Raquel nodded. "I don't want anyone to know. I couldn't do that to my family… The scandal would affect all of them, and I know my mother would suffer if she knew."

"I understand. Well, there are ways to make it work. Perhaps in time, when you've had a chance to calm down, you and Lord Marquina can work out an arrangement. If you can bear his company, you could spend just enough time with him each year to keep people from suspecting the truth, and the rest of the year you would be free to go wherever you wanted."

Raquel looked up.

"Do you really think that would work?"

"I have several friends who live that way."

"Then yes, I'd like to see if we can come to… to an arrangement. But I… I really can't bear to see him for a while."

"Not to worry. For the first, say, three months or so, you're perfectly fine staying with me. After that, you can write to him and discuss your options."

"Thank you", Raquel murmured.

"Don't mention it. In the meantime, I'd be grateful for your help with the charities."

"Of course. I'll do anything I can to help."

…

Tatiana and the children left to return to London, and Sergio seamlessly returned to his normal routine. It felt safe, it felt comfortable, and yet… there was something… something that bothered him, something that nagged at him, quietly but insistently, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. His old routine, which he'd so often longed for when it had been disrupted by her social events, now seemed to have lost a little of its luster. After Tatiana and the children left, a deep silence settled over the house, and as the weeks passed and the first autumn rains came down, his feeling of discomfort grew until he finally realized what it was: for the first time in his life, he felt lonely. He dismissed the feeling at first – he'd lived alone for years, he was used to this – but after a while, he grudgingly had to face the fact that he'd gotten used to having her in the house. They hadn't interacted much, but he still found himself missing the sound of her voice, her laughter, her sheer presence. There was nothing he could do about that, however – she was gone, and he had no way of bringing her back without promising her things he couldn't give her. There was nothing he could do. He would just have to live his life, and try to forget her.

…

It took Raquel some time to get used to her new life in London. For the second time in six months, she'd had to leave behind everything she knew to start over in a new place with new people, and it was hard – she had expected to live her entire life in Sergio's house, and it wasn't easy to wrap her head around the sudden turn things had taken. After a few days, she felt significantly calmer than she had before, and she started regretting leaving so suddenly, in a fit of emotion – a thousand times, she almost sat down to write him a letter to ask him if they could at least talk, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, it was too mortifying – she couldn't bear to see him until her feelings for him were gone.

Slowly but surely, she adjusted the expectations she had had for her future, and tried to resign herself to her new reality: she would never know the companionship of a happy marriage. She would never have children. She would never be loved. She spent many evenings wrestling with the thought that, even though she was married, she would lead the life of a spinster, something that had always seemed like a dreadful existence to her – but she saw no way out. Sergio was often on her mind, and in her weaker moments, she kept hoping that he would send her a letter, ask her to come back to him, show her that he did care, even just a little… But day after day passed without a word from him, and she learned to push away any thought of him the moment it arose.

She was infinitely grateful for Elena. For one thing, her friend had chosen her spinsterhood voluntarily, and it gave Raquel hope to see that Elena was perfectly happy on her own, and that she lived a full and satisfying life. For another, Elena didn't allow Raquel to drown in self-pity all day – she took her out of the house every day from the moment breakfast was over, and soon Raquel was too busy to feel sorry for herself. Elena owned a second house in town, where she took in women of all classes who needed help, or who desperately needed some time away from their often abusive husbands. Raquel spent a large portion of each day there, helping out with household duties, learning to cook and do laundry for the first time in her life, and spending long hours in conversation with the women. The stories she heard shocked and horrified her – she soon realized that she had led a privileged and sheltered life so far, and she gradually came to see her own troubles in a completely different light. The new perspective didn't heal her broken heart, but it did kindle a new sense of purpose in her – a desire to help these women, and to assist Elena in her work in whatever way she could.

After a while, when she was starting to feel better, Elena asked if she would be willing to accompany her to social events around town. What they needed most was money, so Elena spent many evenings socializing, trying to make connections and get people interested in donating, and she said she would like a companion. Raquel agreed, and she soon found out that she liked it. She enjoyed meeting new people and telling them about their work, and she found great satisfaction in thinking of ways to convince people to part with their money. It was a delicate sort of negotiation, and she discovered that she was very good at it.

Several weeks passed, and as autumn set in, wet and chilly, Raquel and Elena went out almost every evening, attending soirees and balls and the opera, getting to know the people who mattered, forging connections with those who could be useful to them. One evening, they were invited to a soiree at the house of Viscount Nelson – a golden opportunity, since it was rumored that many a person of rank would be there. There was a long line of carriages at the curb already when they arrived, and they had to walk past them on their way to the door. Raquel had been familiarizing herself with the various coats of arms, so when she saw one she didn't recognize, she asked Elena about it.

"What family does that belong to?" she said, pointing to the door of a particularly expensive-looking carriage, where a black knight on a horse was painted on a red and yellow field.

"I'm not sure", Elena said. "But I've heard there might be a Spanish Count in attendance tonight. Perhaps the carriage is his."

When they entered the drawing room, it was immediately apparent that the Spanish Count was, indeed, here – everyone was talking about him. An acquaintance of Elena's pointed him out to them: a tall man in his mid-thirties with black hair and eyes, wearing a bright red coat that made him stand out among the crowd. He was surrounded by a small group of people who were laughing at a story he was telling. Raquel observed him for a moment, then turned her attention to a Baron she had talked to at a ball a few days ago, and who had seemed interested in their charity work. She spent a while talking to him, until a figure in a red coat passed by them, and the Baron put out a hand to stop him.

"Milady, have you met the Count?"

"No", she said, "I haven't had the pleasure."

The Count turned to her with a charming smile and said, in slightly accented English:

"The pleasure is all mine."

"Do you have a name?" Raquel smiled, "Or do I just call you 'the Count'?"

He laughed and bowed.

"Alberto", he said. "Alberto Vicuña."

"Raquel Marquina", she offered her name in return.

He straightened up with a look of surprise.

"But that's a Spanish name!"

"Yes, my family has Spanish ancestry."

"That's wonderful! What part of Spain? When did your family move, and why?"

He gestured to two chairs.

"Please. You must tell me everything."

…

They talked for an hour. Talk about her family turned into talk of his family, then a discussion of the turbulent political situation in Spain, which turned the conversation to travel.

"I would love to travel", she said eagerly. "But I've never left England."

"Why not?"

"What with the war on the continent, it wasn't safe to travel in Europe."

"Then you must go beyond Europe, of course."

She laughed at how easy he made it sound.

"Yes, of course. Really, I would love to, but I've never had the chance."

He glanced at her wedding ring.

"Not even on your honeymoon?"

"We didn't have a honeymoon."

"Why not?"

"We… we weren't very familiar with each other when we married. It seemed best to wait a while, get to know each other before leaving on a trip together. And then we just… never discussed it again."

He shook his head.

"A woman like you should be shown the world. She should be taken to see the pyramids along the Nile, to admire the night sky in the middle of the ocean, and to dance at the colorful festivals of India."

She could almost see the things he was describing.

"Have… have you been to all these places?"

"I have", he nodded.

"You're a well-traveled man, then."

He shrugged. "The world is big and full of beauty. I have seen only a fraction of it…" He turned his eyes on her. "And sometimes, the most beautiful things are found right at home."

She blushed – she wasn't used to such flattery. But he knew she was married, so a little compliment like this was completely harmless.

"It's warm in here", he observed idly. "Would you like to get a breath of fresh air?"

They went out onto the balcony together. The night was cool but dry, and a full moon was shining down on the London street outside. When he turned to her, the moonlight made something flash underneath his coat. He saw her questioning look, and pushed his coat aside to reveal two silver pistols at his belt. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You're carrying guns at a soiree?"

"It's customary in Spain – a Spaniard will never leave his house unarmed. The English don't carry guns because they are too complacent."

She snorted. "Or because England is safe. There's a difference. Our men don't have to swagger around with guns."

He shot her an amused look.

"You think I swagger?"

She turned red. "Oh, no… I was making a generalization, I didn't mean to cause offense."

"No offense", he assured her, smiling. "Please know that you can always speak your mind with me."

"Thank you."

He shook his head. "Englishmen crush all the spirit out of their women."

Not all of them, she thought, thinking of Sergio, but she immediately pushed the thought away.

"Can I see them?" she asked. "Your pistols?"

"Of course", he said, and he unhooked one from his belt and handed it to her. It was a lovely piece of shining silver with delicate engravings along the barrel. She held it carefully.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes", he said quietly. "I love beautiful things."

She glanced up to see that he was looking at her instead of the gun, and she blushed again. She knew it was only empty flattery, but it was nice to know that at least some men thought she was attractive.

He suddenly smiled.

"Lady Marquina… have you ever fired a gun?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"No sir, of course not."

His smile broadened.

"Would you like to?"

She glanced over her shoulder through the French doors into the drawing room.

"It… it wouldn't be proper. And especially not in the middle of the city, and in front of a room full of people."

"Nobody's paying attention", he said softly, stepping closer to her. "How about I just show you how to hold it?"

She swallowed as he took the gun from her, then placed it in her hand in the proper way.

"The first thing you need to do, is cock the gun. If you don't, you can't fire it."

He showed her how, and the gun made a satisfying 'click'.

The next moment, he came to stand close behind her, and her heart started beating fast as he took her hand in his and lifted it straight forward.

"A steady aim", he murmured in her ear. "See the weather vane on the roof of the house across the street? Aim for that. Look along the barrel."

She was surprised at how much she liked the feeling of the gun in her hand – how steady it made her feel, how powerful.

"Now put your finger on the trigger", he said quietly. "Yes, just like that."

She curled her finger around the trigger, and felt a calm sense of focus as she aimed at the weather vane.

"Now fire", he breathed, and without thinking about it, she pulled the trigger.

The 'bang!' it made was shockingly loud, and the recoil threw her backwards against the Count's chest, where he caught her in strong arms.

"Well done", he laughed, steadying her carefully, then quickly taking the gun from her as alarmed shouts came from the drawing room and people came crowding out onto the balcony.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about!" the Count said loudly, holding up his gun. "I was merely showing Lady Marquina my pistol when it accidentally went off."

Suddenly Elena was at her side.

"Raquel, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes", the Count said airily. "She's fine."

"I am, Elena", Raquel smiled, trying not to show how exhilarated she felt. "Don't worry."

"Really, sir", Elena said coolly, "do you think it's appropriate to wave around pistols in the middle of London?"

He bowed, a contrite expression on his face.

"My apologies, milady. It won't happen again."

"Well", Elena said, throwing the Count a dark look, "let's go inside before anyone gets hurt."

Raquel was trying not to smile as she followed Elena inside – oh, that had been absolutely thrilling, and it took quite a while before the adrenaline wore off and the flush faded from her cheeks. She spent the rest of the evening in a significantly more boring manner, talking to the people she had come here to talk to. Several of them showed an interest in donating to one or more of their charities, so all in all, Raquel was very satisfied with the evening. By midnight, she was feeling hot and tired and ready to go home, but she saw that Elena was still in the middle of a conversation, so she stepped out onto the balcony again for a breath of fresh air. She looked across the street and noticed to her surprise that the weather vane was gone.

"You hit it", a voice said in her ear, and she turned, smiling, to see the Count again. "I can't believe you hit it. That was a tough shot."

The admiration in his eyes was very clear, and Raquel felt herself blush again.

"Well", she demurred. "You were guiding me."

"Still", he smiled. "You're a natural. You should go hunt with me someday."

"Ladies aren't supposed to hunt", she said automatically.

His eyes were still on her as he murmured:

"There are too many things ladies aren't supposed to do, don't you think? I think it's nonsense. Too many rules like that make you miss out on so many things… they make you miss out on life. And I think, Lady Marquina, that you would like to experience life to the fullest."

She didn't know what to say to that. No man had ever spoken to her like that, and she felt confused and flattered at the same time.

He tilted his head. "May I call on you tomorrow?"

She hesitated. "I'm… I'm not sure."

He smiled. "It wouldn't be a social call. I heard tonight that you do great work with some local charities, and I am interested in contributing. But it's late now. Can I call tomorrow to discuss this?"

"Oh", she said, "yes, of course, that would be fine."

She gave him Elena's address, and he inclined his head.

"Thank you. I will call tomorrow at two."

Then he took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Marquina."

She felt a little breathless as he looked into her eyes, still holding her hand.

"And… and you, Count Vicuña."

He released her hand, bowed, and gave her one last smile.

"I will see you tomorrow."

"Yes", she said. "Tomorrow."