To go from the shelter and seclusion of an English boarding-school to the vastness and glitter of London, a beautiful estate in Westmorland and the dreaming palaces of Venice - and to be surrounded by every comfort that money can buy - what a transformation!

Yet everywhere Carol Inglis, who had been given so much, was haunted by the lack of something precious - the love of the man who had married her out of compassion, to save her from a life of poverty and hardship.

Legally and logically, Timothy Carrington had owed Carol nothing. He'd promised her father to take care of her, and Timothy spared no expense. He gave her everything, in fact, except the one thing she truly wanted. Her heart yearned to reach his; to convince him she was more than an object of charity, her response more than simple gratitude. She was a woman -- capable of loving and being loved.

What was she to do? How could she convince him that she was not a frail child but a woman capable of loving and being loved, of sharing his life and turning his house into a home?