Raquel woke up with a slight headache – she didn't think she'd gotten enough sleep. She spent the morning at Elena's second house, helping the women there with cooking and cleaning, but her thoughts weren't on the tasks at hand and she gave only vague replies when the women talked to her. She kept thinking about last night and Count Vicuña. Shooting that gun with him had been one of the most exhilarating moments of her life, and she had to admit that she was looking forward to seeing the Count again that afternoon, even if it was only to discuss the charities. At five minutes to two, she installed herself in Elena's drawing room, alone – Elena had said she trusted Raquel to handle this visit on her own, and she had gone out. Raquel just wished her headache would go away, but it had gotten worse throughout the morning, and she massaged her temples as she waited for the Count to arrive.

He rang the bell at a quarter past two and was shown up to the drawing room. He smiled when he entered, and she couldn't help but smile back as he took her hand and kissed it.

"It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, Lady Marquina."

"And you, Count Vicuña."

He shook his head.

"Ah, those English formalities. In Spain, we would address each other by our first names, but I understand that's not proper here?"

She hesitated.

"Well… it would certainly be unusual at this stage of our acquaintance."

His eyes gleamed.

"And do you care about that? When it's just the two of us here?"

"I… I don't know."

"You have such a beautiful name…" he murmured, not taking his eyes off of her. "It would be a pity not to use it. Please… allow me to call you Raquel."

She could see no polite way to refuse him, and he was right that it was just the two of them… perhaps it couldn't hurt.

"Alright", she said, feeling a little thrill of excitement at this breach of propriety. "Then shall I call you Alberto?"

He smiled broadly. "Of course. Thank you… Raquel."

She felt a shiver run down her spine – the way he said her name felt very intimate. She quickly sat down and gestured for him to sit as well.

"So… Alberto…" Oh, this felt weird, but she rather liked it. "You said yesterday that you are interested in our charity work?"

"Yes", he said. "Please, tell me all about it."

She spent some time explaining their work to him, and he seemed genuinely interested. He listened attentively and asked intelligent questions, and in the end he said he was willing to donate. When he mentioned the sum, Raquel's eyes went wide.

"That's… that's incredibly generous of you, Count."

He raised his eyebrows, and she quickly amended:

"I mean… Alberto. Thank you. Thank you so much!"

He inclined his head.

"Don't mention it. I'm glad I can contribute, you seem to do such excellent work. Your husband must be proud."

She hesitated, then merely nodded.

"Is your husband at home, by the way?" the Count continued idly. "I would like to congratulate him."

"Congratulate him?" Raquel asked, surprised. "What for?"

"For being the luckiest man in the world", the Count smiled.

Raquel blushed, but she was rather pleased, nonetheless. She knew that she shouldn't take him seriously, but she wouldn't mind it if English men talked like this every once in a while. Still, she wasn't used to it, and it flustered her a little.

"No… no, my husband is not here, he's at our house in the country."

"You mean, he's not in town?"

"No."

"When will he be?"

"I… I don't know", Raquel said, feeling herself go red. "Probably not anytime soon."

The Count shook his head in disbelief.

"Now, Raquel, I truly can't understand that. If I had a wife like you, I wouldn't want to be apart from her for a single day."

She felt a sudden stab of sadness – if only Sergio had felt that way about her. She pushed the thought away, and gave the Count an amused look.

"You flatter me entirely too much, sir."

"Nonsense", the Count smiled. "It's not flattery if it's true."

She chuckled and shook her head, but that made her headache worse, so she quickly stopped and rubbed her temples again.

"Are you alright?" the Count said, frowning in concern.

"Yes", she said, "just a slight headache."

He drew a little bottle out of his coat pocket.

"I have just the thing for that, if you'd like."

"What is it?"

"Laudanum. It's a great medicine for any kind of pain. It's also wonderful to relieve nervous tension."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to her.

"I think my aunt used to take that for her back pain."

He nodded. "Doctors prescribe it all the time, and you can get it at any apothecary."

"Alright", she said. "I admit I wouldn't mind getting rid of this headache."

He opened the bottle and poured several drops into her tea.

"That should do it."

He handed her the cup, and as she sipped the tea, he watched her with an encouraging smile. She grimaced.

"It's very bitter."

"I know, but it really does help."

"Thank you."

He observed her closely, then said:

"Raquel… would you like to accompany me to the opera tonight? I have a friend whom I think would be very interested in your work, I could introduce you."

When she hesitated, he smiled.

"You should bring your friend Lady Godfrey, of course."

Well, if Elena was there too, there would be nothing improper about it. She smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I would like that. That's very kind of you."

"Not at all. I'll come by at eight to fetch you."

They talked about other things for a while, then he got up to leave.

"I should go. How is your headache?"

"Gone", she realized suddenly, to her surprise. "Completely gone."

"Good", he smiled. "I'll leave the bottle here, so you can take another dose if you should need it."

He put the laudanum down on the table, then bowed.

"I will see you tonight, Raquel."

She smiled.

"Yes… Alberto. I look forward to it."

…

Dear Miss Murillo

He started over.

Dear Raquel,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

I am writing to you to apologize. It appears that we began our marriage with very different expectations. I truly thought – please, believe me! – that you were aware of the reason behind my proposal. In hindsight, I now realize I could have explained the matter more fully, and I deeply regret not doing so. It was never my intention to deceive you. If I had known that you were unaware of the true nature of the situation, I would never have gone through with the marriage. Please believe that I honestly thought that our agreement would be mutually beneficial, and that it was what you wanted. I hoped, and believed, that you would be happy. It grieved me to find out that you were not – though I blame myself entirely for not having seen it sooner. I hope you can forgive me for my inattention.

I am truly sorry that I cannot offer you the marriage you desire and deserve. I think you know me well enough by now to know that romantic love is not in my nature. However, I do realize that I have not been a good companion to you even apart from that, and if you should decide at any point to return here, I believe I can do better. I have come to realize over these past weeks that, over the summer, I came to enjoy your presence, and I would be pleased if you should choose to visit me to see if there might be a way you could possibly be happy here. I know I am not the most sociable person, but I think that, in time, we could live well together in true companionship. I hope you will consider –

What was he doing? Did he really think this would make her come back? He put down his pen and rubbed a hand over his eyes. This was not enough – he knew it was not enough – but he couldn't bring himself to be dishonest and promise her more – that would only lead to more disappointment in the future. He grimaced as he reread what he had written, and shook his head – she didn't want to read this, it would only insult her, it would only hurt her more. He picked up the letter, crumpled it, and threw it away.

…

They arrived at the opera in the Count's carriage, and he helped both her and Elena out with the utmost courtesy. Raquel loved going to the opera – she loved the beautiful architecture, the plush carpets, and of course, she loved the performances themselves. They walked into the lobby with the Count, and it was already filled with people dressed in their finery, greeting friends and discussing the latest gossip. Suddenly, a woman spotted them and came over to them – she was about Raquel's age, wearing a nice dress and gloves, and she came up to the Count and smiled at him.

"Alberto", she greeted him, putting a hand on his arm.

He looked uncomfortable as he shook her off.

"Mary", he said coolly.

She looked taken aback by his response. The Count quickly turned to Raquel and Elena.

"Will you excuse me for a moment, ladies?"

They nodded, and he and the woman walked away until they were out of earshot, but even if Raquel couldn't hear what they were saying, it was clear that they were arguing. The Count had his back to them, but Mary was visibly getting upset.

"Well", Elena said drily, "that doesn't look very pleasant."

"We shouldn't judge, we don't know what it's about", Raquel said, but she also had an uneasy feeling.

"There's something about him", Elena said, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the Count. "I can't put my finger on it, but I don't like him."

"Nonsense", Raquel said. "You just don't like him because of that business with the gun yesterday. He's a perfect gentleman."

Suddenly, they saw Mary burst into tears and hurry off, and Elena raised her eyebrows at Raquel.

"Hmm. Quite the gentleman."

The Count came back to them with an apologetic expression on his face.

"My apologies, ladies. I really didn't wish to make a scene."

Raquel and Elena both looked at him. It would be impolite to enquire further into what was clearly a private matter, but they were both very curious. The Count sighed.

"I… I don't mean to gossip, but I do feel like I owe you an explanation. You see, Mary – Mrs. Blackhill – is an acquaintance of mine and… well, there's no delicate way of saying this, but she… she's been in love with me for a while. I've tried to let her down easy, I really have, but she's been very insistent."

He really looked very uncomfortable, Raquel thought. She felt a pang of empathy for the woman – she knew how it felt – but she sympathized with the Count as well. What an awkward situation to find yourself in, especially with a married woman.

"I decided I had to tell her once and for all that she should leave me alone, so… so that's what I did. I'm sorry it had to happen in such a public setting, but I just couldn't let this drag on any longer."

Elena didn't look entirely convinced by his explanation, but Raquel nodded.

"I'm sorry, Count. That must have been awkward for you."

"Yes", he said. "I feel so sorry for the poor woman, but what else could I do?"

He really did look sorry, and Raquel felt sorry for him in return.

"You did the right thing", she said, and he gave her a sad smile.

The next moment, the bell rang to announce the beginning of the performance, and everyone started moving into the concert hall.

"Well", the Count said, smiling and offering his arms to the ladies. "Shall we?"

All in all, the night at the opera was a great success. After the performance, the Count introduced her and Elena to several new potential patrons, and Raquel truly liked his company. He was dashing, courteous and daring, and he liberally sprinkled compliments throughout the conversation, which Raquel had to admit she enjoyed. It was so nice to be around a man who seemed to appreciate her, who clearly wanted to talk to her and spend time with her. When he invited her to a dinner party he was throwing, she was happy to accept the invitation – with Elena, of course. Elena wasn't eager, but she accompanied Raquel anyway, and Raquel enjoyed herself immensely. From that point onwards, she and Alberto saw each other almost every day, always properly in the company of others, but spending a lot of time talking only to each other. He asked for her opinion on everything, listened to every word she had to say, and never failed to compliment her whenever the opportunity arose – and it arose often. Perhaps he was flattering her too much, perhaps he was paying her more attention than a single man should pay a married woman, but with every passing day, slowly but surely, he was driving Sergio from her mind, and she was grateful for that.

…

My dear Sergio,

I am in good health, as are the children. Delia sends her love. I cannot tell you how your brother is, since I have barely seen him all week.

You asked me to write to you if I talked to Raquel, and I have – I sent her an invitation to tea and she accepted. I'm glad to tell you that she seems reasonably well. She complained of frequent headaches, but apart from that, she said she was in good health. Personally, I think she's working too hard, but she dismissed my concern and wouldn't hear of taking things at a quieter pace.

We talked about your situation, and she says she does not blame you, as it was all an unfortunate misunderstanding and you did try to be honest with her. I'm sorry, Sergio, but I think she has no intention of returning home. She says she is happy in London and that any feelings she may have had for you have disappeared. I'm not sure I believe her though – I'm almost certain I could see sadness in her eyes when she spoke of you.

Sergio, I feel like you need to know that she has frequently been seen around town in the company of a certain Spanish nobleman: Count Alberto Vicuña. Nothing improper, of course, but I feel like there is potential for trouble there. When I asked her about him, she became evasive and I thought I could see her blush. I'm afraid she could fall in love with him over time, if she hasn't done so already. My dear brother, I know you said you can't love her the way she wants you to, but if time and distance should have made you come to your senses, I urge you to write to her immediately and ask her to come home. I still believe that she would choose to honor her marriage vows over anything else, if only you would give her the slightest encouragement.

You're a smart man, Sergio, but I feel like you're being immeasurably stupid now. Please reflect on your choices before it's too late.

With love,

Tatiana

…

If only her head wouldn't hurt so much. She was taking the laudanum Alberto had given her several times a day now, but every time, the pain came back. She started taking a higher dose, and that helped for a while, until she had to increase it again, and again. It always made her feel so much better – her pain was gone, and she felt relaxed and happy, all her worries melting away like snow in the spring. Alberto brought her new bottles every time she finished one, which she appreciated, and he urged her to take as much of the medicine as she needed. She was still seeing him every day, and apart from seeing him often in public, she was now also spending time with him alone. They went to the opera together, sitting in his private box, they took walks and carriage rides in the park, and they had long conversations in Elena's drawing room. He made it very clear how much he admired her, and really, that was just what she needed right now. She knew it was not entirely proper to spend so much time with him, she knew people were starting to talk, but every time she took a dose of laudanum, she stopped worrying about it.

…

Dear Miss Murillo,

I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you won't mind that I come straight to the point.

It has been brought to my attention that you are spending a lot of time in the company of a Spanish nobleman. Please do not think I mean to berate you – you are perfectly free to spend your time as you wish. I am writing to you because, by marrying you for purely practical reasons, I have robbed you of the chance of happiness and a family, and I mean to set things right by offering you the option of annulling our marriage. In order for the marriage to be annulled, I would have to prove to a doctor that I am physically incapable of consummating – please excuse me for speaking of such indelicate matters, but I don't know how else to explain it. If you should wish it, I will see if I can find a doctor who might be willing to write that certificate for me (in return for payment), and then our marriage could be dissolved.

I have caused you pain in the past, for which I apologize. The least I can do now is set you free, so you can find happiness in whatever way you see fit.

Please let me know by return letter if you would like to pursue this course of action.

I truly wish you all the best.

Lord Sergio Marquina

He spent hours staring at the letter, reading it over and over and over again. He knew he should send it. He knew it was the right thing to do. A certificate like that would be public and would cause him a lot of embarrassment, but he didn't care about that – he only cared about making right what he had done wrong, he only cared about her happiness. And for her to be happy, he had to send that letter – and yet he didn't. He wasn't sure why, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. This had never happened to him before – he believed himself to have a strong moral compass, and he had always been capable of following a course of action if he believed it to be right. And yet the letter sat on his desk, day after day, untouched, while he tried to convince himself that he could do it – that he could send it – that he could let her go. He had never felt so conflicted.

…

"Come away with me."

She stared at him.

"What?"

He was kneeling in front of her chair, her hand in his, such an earnest look in his eyes.

"Come away with me, Raquel. You know I love you, I have made no secret of that. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. Please… let me make you my wife."

She was shaking her head – it felt so fuzzy – what was he saying?

"Alberto, you know I'm already married."

"To a husband you never see! He hasn't come into the city once since you got here. He doesn't deserve you. Tell me, Raquel… does he love you like I do?"

No… no, he didn't, she knew that. But still…

"I can't marry you when I'm already married."

"Then come with me to Spain. Nobody will know who you are. You could change your name, start over, start a new life… with me."

Her head was spinning. Would that… would that really be possible? She wished she could think more clearly. He was gazing up at her and leaned in closer, still holding her hand.

"I want to marry you, Raquel. I want to live every day with you by my side. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing before I fall asleep at night. I want to build a life with you, share a home… have a family."

His words struck her deeply. She thought she had resigned herself to never having any of those things, but as he was talking, she felt hope rekindle in her chest. Did she really have another chance at a proper marriage, a proper husband? Someone she could really share her life with? Could she really have a family?

"Raquel", he said softly, "please say that you'll be my wife. I can't live without you anymore."

Oh, the way he was looking at her… like she was everything to him, like she was the center of the world. What she would have given for Sergio to look at her like that… but she knew he never would.

He got up and bent his head close to hers.

"Think about it. I'll return tonight for your answer."

Then he bowed and left, leaving her dazed and confused and more conflicted than she had ever felt in her life.