Originally for 2013's Age of Edward contest, I withdrew it early on due to my lack of confidence! Here it is again.

Disclaimer: All publically recognisable characters etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Many thanks to my beta, A Jasper For Me, and to Lolo84 for pre-reading.

The Mayfair Mistress

England, 1925

I emptied my brandy glass, relishing the rich burn spreading through my chest. Our laughter and chatter had grown louder as the evening at the Whitlocks' Belgravia mansion progressed, and there were no signs of it stopping.

"It's a shame Bella couldn't be here tonight," Jasper said, pouring us more drinks. The ladies had left for coffee in the drawing room a while ago, leaving us four gentlemen around the mahogany dining table with our brandy and cigars. "She always brings something extra to our gatherings."

My heart flipped in my chest at just the mention of my love's name, even though to me she would always be Izzy.

"One has to love those Yanks," Benjamin said, swilling his glass around, "even if they do have some baffling ideas. Prohibition? Thank Goodness the House of Lords like their drink too much." He shook his head as we all chortled. "I know what you mean about Bella, though; she's not like most upper-class English girls. My Angela being an exception, of course."

Michael laughed. "Maybe it's because Bella does something else with her time other than spending money and gossiping. Even if I do find her work a bit too abstract for my taste."

I exhaled a plume of smoke, adding to the cloud already hovering above us. "I find her art very inspiring."

"I bet that's not the only thing about her that you find inspiring, Masen," Jasper said, grinning wryly.

"I wouldn't know what you mean, Whitlock."

There were snickers all around, thinking they knew the truth. They didn't, not really; no one knew the depth of our relationship.

Up-tempo jazz began playing from across the hall, a sign the party was kicking up a gear. It would be another late night.

"Gentlemen, shall we join the ladies?" Jasper suggested.

We murmured our agreement and I stubbed out my cigar, following the men through to the opulent drawing room. Sisters Alice and Angela, their dark bobs adorned with richly-beaded headbands were attempting to dance the quickstep around the furniture, a little squiffy from all the champagne. This is what we did, living a carefree life of luxury.

Although outwardly the best of friends, I knew from experience and observation that the ladies thrived on rivalry—who had the finest silk stockings or the most decadent frock, the most fashionable shoes or expensive perfume. And my wife always set out to impress.

I sat myself down on the arm of the deep blue, thickly-cushioned chair where Rosalie perched. Of course, she looked as immaculate as ever, with her lips a dark red and her short blonde hair crimped into a marcel wave. She wasn't smiling, though. Then again, that wasn't much of a surprise. Perhaps Michael was taking Jessie to Paris, or maybe Angela and Benjamin were to sail for New York for their honeymoon. Whatever the problem was, I was sure it would cost me.

I knew without doubt if I didn't indulge her sulking, I would never hear the end of it.

"Are you okay … darling?" I whispered, the false endearment bitter on my tongue.

"I'm fine, Edward," she snapped. "I've got a terrible headache from the champagne and the music isn't helping."

"Do you want to leave?"

Before she could respond, Alice's excitable voice filled the room. "Oh, what a good idea! Say everybody, why don't we head on to the Kit-Kat club?"

I shook my head while everyone else shouted their approval. "Rosalie isn't feeling too well. I think we'll have to pass."

"No, Edward, you should go," Rose said. "I'm only going to take one of my pills and go to sleep."

I frowned. "I'm not sending you home alone." I may not have liked my wife, but I was ever the gentleman.

"Ed, you can go with Rose in the taxi and then meet us there," Jasper said.

Secretly I was pleased with the idea. In fact, I was over the moon.

Rose was in a much better mood once we headed off from the Whitlocks', and I suspected Alice was part of the problem; unlike most of the society harpies, she was a lovely woman, but sometimes she could be a bit much.

I made sure Rose was safely inside our Mayfair mansion, letting our butler, Caius, know he need not wait up, before heading for the Kit-Kat club in the West End. As usual it was full of the cream of London society dancing and drinking under the ambient lights. It didn't take me long to spot our group, quaffing more champagne, and I took a quick turn on the floor with Alice, Angela and Jessie.

When it was nearing midnight, I made my excuses, saying I wanted to check on Rose. She wouldn't know when I came in as she was always dead to the world after taking one of her pills, so it bought me some time.

The journey to the Mayfair flat was filled with thoughts of Izzy. God, I loved that girl, and tonight had been torture without her. My trousers had tightened uncomfortably by the time the taxi pulled up outside, and I hurriedly passed the driver a crown from my wallet, the silver coin glinting in the moonlight.

I took the rain-slicked steps two at a time and rapped my knuckles on the midnight blue front door, leaning against the jamb. Even from outside I could hear the mellow jazz notes floating through the air from her beloved gramophone, and I smiled at the familiarity of our little love nest.

Her footsteps on the floorboards came closer, and as always, my heart skipped a beat when she opened the door. Unlike most women, she had kept her rich, chestnut waves long, instead opting for faux-bobs when the need arose. I loved that about her; running my fingers through the silky strands of her hair as we lay tangled up in bed sheets was pure heaven. Tonight she had her locks pinned atop her head with a deep blue headscarf, matching her paint-splattered bib-and-brace overalls. Her face was untouched by any cosmetics and she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She could compete with—and beat—all the other high-society girls when it came to dressing up, but at home she preferred to be comfortable.

"Izzy," I whispered reverently.

She hesitated only a minute before her eyes, rich like milky cocoa, looked nervously over my shoulder. "Quickly, come in."

I followed her inside and as soon as the door had closed, I had her pressed up against the wall, our mouths fused together in tantalising passion. She began pushing my dinner jacket off my shoulders, and I moved my lips to her neck, tasting her sweet, fragrant skin, like apple blossom and vanilla.

"Edward," she moaned, her head back against the wall.

"God, I missed you, Izzy." I pressed my erection into her centre. "I've been hard all night for you, sitting through all that damn politics and business talk, when all I wanted to do was come here and lose myself in you."

Without stopping our frantic kisses, we manoeuvred our way to her bedroom at the back of the flat, the sensual jazz notes filling the air with our kisses and groans of passion. In desperation for each other, we shed our clothes quickly. I swore under my breath when I saw what she was wearing underneath: a baby blue, silk brassiere trimmed with ivory lace, and short, matching knickers.

"Oh, I forgot," Izzy giggled, feigning innocence. "The Honourable Edward Anthony Masen has a thing for naughty lingerie."

I began pulling off said lingerie, growling, "Believe me, Izzy, there is nothing honourable about what I'm about to do to you."

Pushing her down on the bed, I began feasting on her dusky pink nipples, feeling her fingers tugging at my hair as she moaned and whimpered, driving me crazy. I slid one hand down, feeling how drenched she was for me, and pushed a finger inside her. So tight.

"Edward, please," she cried. I swelled even more at the sound of her begging; I loved how vocal and liberated she was.

"You want me, sweetheart?"

"I need you."

I rolled us over so Izzy was straddling me, her sex just inches from my tip. She sank down slowly upon my length, her slick, tight heat making me moan and throw my head back in pleasure.

"God, Izzy. Every time feels so damn good!" I placed my hands on her hips as she began to undulate sensually above me, setting a steady, long and deep rhythm, palming her own breasts. She quite simply left me breathless with her ethereal beauty as she moved, a sheen of sweat on her alabaster skin while her long, dark tresses tickled my thighs.

Our hands joined in mid-air as I thrust up inside her, causing her to cry out. "I love feeling you so deep inside me, Edward … ungh … oh yes!"

God, what her words did to me. I was immersed in pleasure with every movement and noise she made, never having enough, always wanting more.

I sat up, bringing us level, our eyes never breaking contact as we moved together. Her sweet, tight sex was driving me to the brink faster than I wanted, but that was always the case with Izzy. I wanted to stay inside her forever.

Unable to stand the slow pace anymore, I flipped us over so I lay between her thighs, both of us breathing heavily, as she uttered words that drove me crazy.

"Do it, Edward; take me hard."

I couldn't stop the growl in my throat, and I smashed my lips to hers. As we kissed frantically, my hips rolled and I began to pound into her. With every thrust I felt a tightening in my abdomen, my climax building higher and higher.

I sucked her earlobe, flicking it with my tongue, and whispered, as I often did, "Love you, Izzy."

That was all it took for her to clench around me, her cries of ecstasy filling the room. I thrust hard three more times before I withdrew, releasing on her stomach and breasts in a blinding flash of white-hot pleasure.

"Christ, Iz," I panted, my arms giving way.

We lay there for a minute, catching our breath. I didn't know how it was possible, but every time just got better and better, and I fell more in love with her.

With a tender kiss on her lips, I rolled over so as not to crush her. I heard her sniffle. This had happened a couple of times before and as usual, before I could pull her to me, she was out of bed wrapping a sheet around herself.

"Darling," I called, watching her walk through to the lounge.

"Don't call me that." Her words, so full of pain and anger, sent a knife through my heart. I never wanted to cause her pain, but it was all I seemed to do.

The soft jazz was cut off mid-note.

"Please, Izzy?"

After a few moments she appeared back in the doorway, clutching the sheet in one hand and a lit cigarette shakily in the other. "You should go, Edward. I shouldn't have even let you in; this was a mistake. It's always a mistake!"

"This could never be a mistake," I said fervently. "Just come here for a minute."

She took a drag on the cigarette. The way she bit her lip and frowned showed me she was warring with herself. Finally, she sat down beside me, pulling her knees to her chest.

"I mean it, Iz. I do love you."

She laughed, harshly. "You love me enough to use me as your whore. And I'm stupid enough to let you."

I grabbed her chin gently but firmly. "Never say that. You are the one I love."

"It's not enough, Edward. I thought it was, but … I need more. I can't stand loving you from afar anymore, watching you with her, and always seeing you leave. It's killing me." She shook her head. "I've been thinking about Jacob's proposal. I think I'm going to accept."

Her words were a kick in the stomach, as flames of ire licked my insides just thinking of her marrying that slick New Yorker. "Black?! You're going to marry him?"

"He's a good man, Edward, and he loves me."

I swallowed thickly. "Do you love him?"

"I could."

The thought of my Izzy loving another man, marrying him, round with his child, made me feel physically ill. I was filled with loathing for my father, who had arranged my match to Rosalie Hale while I was fighting in France. Fresh back from the Great War, our courtship was expected, and though neither of us was in a rush to get down the aisle while I was at Oxford, after four years we ended up marrying. Rose and I had no spark, no fire, and our initial indifference had turned into mutual dislike.

I had already been married a year when a twenty-year-old Izzy breezed into my life, the daughter of American banker Charles Swan. What started as a temporary visit to her ailing English mother turned into a permanent move, and her wealth and status meant she fell right in with our set. A breath of fresh air in a life of endless cocktail parties and stuffy dinners, Izzy knew how to light up a room without even trying. I knew how lucky I was to lead this life—I was lucky to still be alive at all—but the high-society politics and keeping up appearances did begin to take its toll after a while. Now, three years into my sham of a marriage, I had spent half of that time head over heels in love with another woman.

When we first met, Izzy was just a fascination, a fantasy, but as time went on I found myself hanging on her every word, marvelling at her vivacity, wit and intelligence. I knew she was attracted to me as well by the desire in her eyes, but we tried to fight it. However, after a year of stolen glances of longing, of lingering hand-kisses and shared jokes, we could fight no more.

Izzy was the only one in the world who really knew me. Yet I knew I could never have her.

The imposing Cullen Manor grew larger before my eyes as my beloved, cream Rolls-Royce Twenty raced along the mile-long driveway. The clear, warm summer's day meant the top was down and the gentle breeze was now whipping past us at speed.

"Edward!" Rose chided. "Would you slow down?!"

I rolled my eyes, easing up a jot on the accelerator, but determined not to let her spoil my good mood. My oldest friend and army comrade, Carlisle, was hosting a weekend for a big group of us at his Berkshire estate, and I absolutely loved being in the country. Not even Rosalie at her worst could damper my spirits, and besides, I was hopeful Izzy would be here.

It had been two weeks since I'd seen her that night at her flat. As usual we had resolved nothing, and I had left with promises to see her soon; promises I did not know I could keep.

I slowed the motor car as we pulled up outside the country mansion, lifting the handbrake and switching off the engine. Rose was busy taking her compact mirror from her handbag.

"Why we couldn't take the Phantom is beyond me," she grumbled as I went to open her door. "At least it's got a roof."

"We couldn't take the Phantom because then we wouldn't have been able to enjoy this!" I gestured to the expanse of cornflower-blue sky. "Come on, Rose, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I lost it back where I almost lost my hat." She sighed, giving up on the mirror. "I shall have to completely redo my hair now, thank you very much. Goodness knows what Esme will think."

Before I could think of a suitable retort, the front door opened and Carlisle came out to greet us, followed closely by Esme.

"Edward, Rose, how jolly good to see you!" he exclaimed.

"How are you keeping, Carlisle? Missing London life?" I shook his hand and kissed Esme's cheek.

"I can't complain," he said, "although I daresay a trip into the city is due soon. It's nice out here but things get old quickly. That's why we've been so looking forward to having you all here." He went over to greet my wife. "Rose, you look lovely as ever."

"That's very kind of you, Carlisle," she said, "though Edward's driving skills don't lend themselves to well-kempt hair."

Our host chuckled. "He always did like speed. Come, let Marcus show you to your room and then we'll have coffee on the sun terrace."

We followed the sober butler into the cavernous hallway and up the grand, winding staircase, the footmen carrying our luggage behind us. We stayed in our usual guest room in the east wing, full of sumptuous satin and silk bedclothes and velvet upholstery. Rose immediately called for her vanity case to be placed atop the dressing table and began adjusting her hair in the antique mirror.

"Rose, we really shouldn't keep Carlisle and Esme waiting." After fifteen minutes had passed my patience was wearing thin. As usual, Rosalie had no regard for anyone else, least of all our hosts, just as long as every hair was in place.

She continued to dab powder along her porcelain cheeks, flicking her eyes to mine in the mirror. "You should be glad your wife makes an effort to look nice."

"But you already looked nice!"

"Don't patronise me, Edward." She snapped her compact case shut. "I can't sit around with the ladies looking less than perfect. Don't you understand? It's a game, and I must win. Now, hand me my new Chanel."

"Your new …?"

"The salmon pink tea dress I ordered specially from Paris!" She pointed to the garment bag hanging up on the wardrobe door. "Jessie will just die when she sees this!"

It was almost noon by the time Rose deemed herself ready, and we found the Whitlocks, Newtons, Benjamin and Angela, and Carlisle's cousin, Emmett, all sitting on the sun terrace sipping from dainty porcelain cups.

"Oh, Rose, I do love your frock! Wherever did you get it?" Jessie asked, her voice tinged with jealousy, from where the ladies sat shading themselves with pastel-hued, lace parasols. They were soon immersed in chatter of haute-couture, and Rose wore a smug grin.

"What's on the agenda for today then, Carlisle?" Emmett asked, offering me a light for my cigarette.

"We thought this afternoon we could picnic by the lake. I've got a couple of new rowing boats, so we could take them out if it takes our fancy."

"As long as no one lets Edward take the oars." Emmett chuckled. "Do you remember the first summer we tried to race in a rowboat?"

I took a drag on my cigarette, flicking some ash in the tray a little too aggressively in his direction. Edward Sr., Lord Masen, had been friends with Carlisle's late father since they were schoolboys, so we often spent summers together either here or at Masen Hall. Emmett was from the wayward, comparatively impoverished side of the family, but he would often be sent to Cullen Manor with us, getting us into all sorts of japes that resulted in a rap across the knuckles or a box around the ears.

That particular summer I had just turned thirteen, and while my elder chums were filling out with muscle, I was still gangly. One afternoon on the lake, we decided it would be fun to try and race; unfortunately for my competitive self, I didn't have the strength to move the oars as fast as they did. Naturally, I got frustrated and in my attempts to catch up, ended up capsizing.

Carlisle chuckled as Emmett recounted the tale. "Our fathers were frightfully mad. We got a good tongue-lashing for that, didn't we?"

I smiled wryly. "I think he called us a 'bunch of irresponsible dunces' and Emmett a 'corruptive influence'."

Our conversation was interrupted by the purr of an engine and we spun around to see a sleek burgundy convertible speeding up the driveway.

"Who's that?" Benjamin asked. "That's never—"

"It's Bella!" Alice crowed. "Goodness, look at that car!"

We found ourselves meandering away from terrace to where the automobile now stopped outside the front entrance.

"Sorry, I'm late!" Izzy called, getting out to reveal her ensemble of a silky, red blouse and wide-legged white trousers. Her luscious chestnut tresses were styled in a faux-bob with a red headband, and her natural beauty had been enhanced by light touches of rouge to her cheeks and lips.

"Bella, darling!" Esme greeted her, kissing both cheeks. "Heavens, I thought you would get a lift with Jacob, not drive down by yourself."

My fist clenched instinctively at the mention of his name.

"His plans changed; he had to sail on the Delphina this morning for New York, but he sends his apologies."

Izzy went around the gang, greeting everyone with cheek kisses. She was much better friends with Alice and Angela than she was with Jessie and Rose, but they tolerated each other. I knew it was awkward for her being around my wife, but I honestly didn't know what to do anymore.

When Izzy got to me, I forced every sinew and muscle to stay still and not envelope her in my arms, keeping up a polite smile upon my face. I tried to catch her eye, but she quickly looked away.

Whilst her car was taken around to the garage and bags taken upstairs, we all slowly made our way back to the terrace to finish our coffee.

"What did she look like driving that car?" Jessie asked Rose cattily. "It's so very unfeminine. And look at the way she flirts to try and fit in. They're such gullible fools eating up that American accent; whatever is the matter with them?"

"Who knows, darling. Some men clearly don't appreciate the finer things in life." Unlike the idle cattiness of Jessie, who loved gossip for gossip's sake, Rose's voice was full of distaste and venom, no doubt envious of a girl younger, prettier and more popular than herself.

With picnic baskets over our arms, we strolled through the fields leading down to the sparkling, sapphire lake, the yellow, parched grass brushing our calves as we went. As the ladies skipped ahead, I couldn't take my eyes off of Izzy, now changed into an ivory lace sundress sitting above her knee. Her creamy white legs teased and taunted me, and I struggled to keep the desire from my face.

We spread the blankets under the heavy boughs of a large oak tree, taking shelter from the sun, we men even shedding our light jackets, rolling up our shirtsleeves and loosening our collars.

"Let's hope Mrs. Mallory still knows how to pack a picnic," Emmett said of the Cullens' cook as we opened the hampers. It was rather novel serving ourselves, a day away from all the formality of usual mealtimes.

We rifled through the baskets, discovering the delicious treasures packed within. From cold meats and lobster salad to scotch eggs and smoked salmon, the delicacies were numerous. And that was before Mrs. Mallory's famous sponge cake with homemade jam and thick cream filling.

"What do we have to drink?" Jessie asked, peering over the top of her lace fan. "I'm parched."

"Let's see," I said, taking each bottle and flask out. "Lemonade, iced tea, some ginger ale, and champagne."

Everyone opted for a glass of the latter, and Carlisle popped the cork, pouring glasses for all his guests.

"My friends, let me just say I am delighted you could all join myself and Esme this weekend. Let us eat, drink, and dance until dawn!"

"Hear, hear!" we chorused, clinking our glasses together.

We tucked into the delicious dishes before us, sharing jests and anecdotes as we ate and drank. After lunch, we began dispersing into groups and couples, with Michael and Jessie the first to go take the air. Carlisle lay dozing, his head in his wife's lap, and straw boater across his face, while Esme leant against the great tree trunk losing herself in a book.

Emmett stretched as he stood, pulling up the braces that hung by his sides. "Would any of you ladies care to accompany me on the lake?"

"I'll go with you," Rose said sweetly, a tone I hadn't heard from her before. "I fancy some sunshine." It was only then she gave pause, adding seemingly as an afterthought, "Are you coming, Edward?"

I shook my head. She merely shrugged and took Emmett's arm.

The rest of us stayed talking for a while, before Angela suggested a stroll in the woods to counter the slightly excessive lunch. Alice and Jasper waved us off, their heads close as they whispered to each other.

I offered Izzy my arm and she slowly, hesitantly, placed her hand in the crook.

"Thank you," I murmured.

She shook her head. "I was afraid if I sat any longer I would fall asleep also."

As we walked behind a giddy Angela and Benjamin, I could smell my love's floral perfume, not too sweet, mixed with her own natural scent. My heart thumped, and my whole body thrummed with electricity from the touch of her hand. I was consumed with love and lust. I wanted her hair between my fingers and my tongue on her skin, drinking her essence and feeling her come apart around me.

We followed the dry, cracked forest path in silence but for the birds chirping up above. Ahead of us, Angela rested her head on Benjamin's shoulder, and inside I was raging that Izzy and I had to keep our distance.

I watched Benjamin elicit a giggle as he whispered something in his fiancée's ear, and they took off at a jog, hands clasped. It didn't take a genius to know what they were up to, but I would not begrudge them their happiness.

"I can't stand this," I murmured, scuffing my shoe into the ground. "This is torture!"

We stepped a little way off the path and only then did Izzy break her silence. "I don't know what to do, Edward. I'm trying to forget you, but God, one look at you and I'm driven crazy."

I swallowed, feeling myself harden as our faces drew closer and closer. "How, Izzy? Tell me how I drive you crazy."

"Everything about you calls to me, makes me feel alive. Despite what we're doing, you're a good man. You're passionate and caring, protective, and so …" Her eyes grew darker. "…masculine and sexual."

I growled, pulling her deeper into the woods. Hidden behind a thick row of trees and against a majestic oak, I began pressing my lips along her jaw, until I kissed that sweet spot beneath her ear that sent her pulse racing. "I didn't like hearing you talk about Black earlier. Do I need to remind you who you belong to? You. Are. Mine."

I could see the war behind her eyes even as she whimpered, rubbing herself against me.

"Izzy, my Izzy, I'm so hard for you," I groaned, as we frantically pressed into each other, and she slid the braces off my shoulders, deftly unbuttoning my trousers.

I hiked up her frock and silky chemise, cupping my hand over her soaked pussy, and when she captured my lips, I buried myself to the hilt in one hard thrust. We swallowed each other's moans as our tongues danced, and I began pushing myself in and out.

The danger of getting caught made it all the more exciting, claiming my girl in the open air where anyone could stumble upon us. It was foolish, but so exhilarating I knew my orgasm would be explosive.

While our actions were quick and dirty, through our locked gaze we showed the depth of our emotion and love. Sometimes we made sweet, slow love, and others were like this. Hard and fast. With Izzy, I said and did things I would never even dream of, because we loved and trusted one another implicitly.

I could tell she was close by the way she was biting her lip and the fluttering of her walls around me, and I knew just what she liked.

"Feel me, Izzy," I groaned, tilting my hips to reach even deeper. "I'm the one pleasuring you, filling you; I'm the one about to come inside of you and mark you as mine."

The illicit nature of my words had the desired effect; she buried her face in my neck as her orgasm overtook her, setting off my own euphoric release.

This time, as we recovered, I didn't let her pull away. Instead, I held her as she shook in my arms.

Rosalie took my arm, and we began descending the stone steps to the rose garden terrace where people gathered below, enjoying the balmy summer's evening. Jazz music was emanating from a gramophone, a new record with vocals I didn't recognise; Izzy's father always brought her the very latest music from across the Atlantic, so I suspected she had lent it to Carlisle.

The maid stood at the bottom of the steps with a tray of cocktails, and we both took one, beginning to make our way around the terrace. It was halfway through one of Benjamin's anecdotes that I spotted her out of the corner of my eye, gracefully descending towards us.

Izzy was always beautiful, but tonight, she was a goddess. Her low-cut evening dress was a slinky, silvery-grey silk that moved like cascading water, with only the thinnest straps over her milky-white shoulders. A long string of pearls, knotted at the bottom, hung past her waist, and a feathered, shimmery headband adorned her finger-waved faux-bob.

I stood by and watched as Emmett went to offer her his arm, which she graciously took. Our eyes met and she gave me that twinkle I knew was just for me.

Even when I found myself in a conversation with the Whitlocks and Esme, I knew I had to be careful my eyes didn't linger too long or too hungrily on my brunette beauty. The desire on my face would have been all too clear.

When the gong sounded, alerting us to the start of dinner, I offered Esme my arm. We wended our way inside to their formal dining room, the walls covered in old portraits and landscape paintings, and the Cullen crest hanging centrally. The long, walnut table was elegantly set with white linen, and candelabras lit for ambience.

Once Marcus had served the wine, Carlisle stood and cleared his throat. "It is customary to say a few words, but I will keep it brief as I know some of you are ravenous." He smirked in Emmett's direction. "Let us drink his Majesty's health, for his leadership and constancy during times of upheaval and times of change has been of great comfort to us all. Our peace was hard fought, and it is our duty to live every day to the fullest in memory of those who gave their lives to protect the liberties we hold dear." He raised his glass. "The king!"

"The king!" we chorused, mimicking his toast.

As soon as Carlisle sat down, soup and bread rolls were served and the chatter began to pick up.

"Speaking of peace, Carlisle," Michael said, "rumour has it Dawes and Chamberlain are in the running for this year's Nobel Peace Prize."

Benjamin spluttered. "That's rich; the Dawes plan is perpetuating Anglo-German animosity if anything."

"It certainly has divided opinion," Carlisle said thoughtfully, fingering the stem of his wine glass. "Bella, it would be most interesting to invite your father to dinner when he is next in England. I would love to get his perspective as an American banker, seeing as though they are the ones loaning Germany the money."

"I'm sure he'd love to, Carlisle, but I can tell you he's certain the plan will fail. He keeps on about how the Allies have set the level for Germany's repayments too high."

"They should be high," Emmett chimed in, banging his fist on the table. "If it wasn't for those damn krauts there wouldn't have been a war."

"But it's unsustainable," Izzy pointed out. "Soon they won't be able to pay, and we'll get nothing out of the war at all."

"I think it's all pointless," Jasper said darkly. "Don't get me wrong, they should pay, but the Germans aren't going to just roll over. They won't forget the sting of defeat, and they'll rebuild. Strengthen."

An ominous silence fell over us all. I had no doubt that Jasper, ever the military strategist, was right. Few things scared me, but the prospect of another generation, or even the same one, going out to fight again filled me with dread. When I was sent to join the war effort at eighteen, the fighting was about to enter its fourth year, and soldiers no longer set sail with any illusions of the glory of war.

We men from the London set, most of us more sheltered than the average soldier, knew the oppressive atmosphere that hung over the battlefields of France. The fear of the men leaving for the Front and the horror of those returning from it, muddy and bloodied. And some never returned at all.

"You don't think there will be another war, do you?" Jessie asked shakily, breaking me from my dark thoughts. Her brother and our friend, Alec, had been one of the unlucky ones, killed at the Somme by German gunfire on his first mission into no man's land.

"Pay my husband no mind," Alice said kindly. "He was knocked unconscious by a piece of shrapnel and doesn't always think before he speaks."

That broke through the gloomy cloud that has descended upon the room and we all chortled.

After brandy and cigars for the gentlemen and coffee for the ladies, Esme suggested after-dinner cocktails and dancing in the ballroom. She even insisted on pouring them herself, so they were rather strong.

When a waltz started, I offered my wife my hand and we fell in amongst the couples gliding nimbly across the marble floor. I loved to dance, but with Rosalie it was somewhat awkward. It was probably one of the only times we touched these days, and the intimacy of the hold didn't sit well with either of us.

Only after dancing with Esme, Jessie, Angela and Alice did I finally approach Izzy. It would have looked more suspicious if I had not.

"Isabella, may I have this dance?"

She didn't meet my gaze, but put her hand in mine.

The record Alice had chosen began to play, and I sucked in a breath at the music: a tango. Done right, it was passionate and provocative. Izzy and I assumed our hold, our eyes finally meeting, as we began to move to the sensual rhythm.

With sharp head flicks and dramatic dips, spins and pauses, I guided my prey across the ballroom. No one else existed in those precious moments while we moved with a passion that could have set us all alight.

By the time the sultry music came to a close, I was mad for her, and her eyes told me she felt the same.

"Your room in an hour," I ordered, watching her eyes darken further.

The ladies said goodnight not long after, leaving we gentlemen with a nightcap in the game room. Benjamin and I played a game of billiards, and Carlisle brought out a pack of cards.

"Care to make the night interesting, gentlemen?" he asked, puffing on his cigar.

I heard Michael, Jasper and Emmett agree enthusiastically.

"You in, Masen?" Jasper asked.

"Actually, I'm going to turn in," I said. "A little too much of that scotch, I think."

We bid each other goodnight, and I left the five of them sitting around the table for a hand of poker. The entrance hall was lowly lit, and as I reached the top of the staircase, I checked there was no one around.

In the east wing I crept past my own room, trying to be as stealthy as possible, until I reached the door at the end of the corridor, knocking on it gently.

"Come in," she said softly.

Inside the dimly lit room, Izzy stood by the bed dressed in only a silky pink chemise. I was across the room in an instant, my tongue seeking entrance into her mouth in a searing kiss. As I slipped the straps down her creamy shoulders, caressing her soft skin, I could taste the flavour that was Izzy—sweet, fruity and with a hint of gin.

"Edward," she panted, breathless from our kiss. "We shouldn't … oh God ..."

I lifted her chemise over her head, my eyes drinking in her perfect, soft curves.

Laying her down on the bed, I hastily pulled down my braces, stripped off my shirt and took my hard length from the confines of my trousers.

"You've got to be quiet, Iz," I murmured. "Can you do that for me?"

She bit her lip, nodding.

"You turned me into a man possessed tonight. I have to have you." Leaning over her, I skimmed her hardened nipples with my fingers. "You're so exquisite, Izzy."

I felt her reach down, wrapping her hand around my arousal, making me drop my head to her shoulder as I thrust into her fist.

Using my fingers, I teased Izzy's wet centre, working her up into a frenzy before sinking them inside her. She clung to me as she climaxed, burying her face in my neck and sucking the skin. Slowly, I brought the fingers I had used to my mouth, licking her arousal from them.

Her chest was heaving, flushed a beautiful rose-pink, as she lay back, spreading her legs wider and showing her glistening lips in her womanly curls. Izzy locked her fingers behind my head, pulling my mouth to her, which, bearing in mind what I had just licked, drove me insane with lust.

I pushed into her, and we were soon lost in a frantic rhythm, hands grasping, lips sucking, nails scraping, teeth nipping. I gave her everything I had, and she gave me everything in return, our bodies in harmony. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my neck, my chest. My hips continued to roll, her walls quivered, and with a touch of my hand, she was there.

The second I felt her clench around me, I had to pull out. I would have exploded inside her otherwise, and we'd been getting careless. We both rode out our orgasms, before collapsing back on the bed, panting, spent and sated.

I lay there, catching my breath, whilst playing with slightly damp locks of her hair.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered sleepily.

"I don't want to go either, Izzy. I want to stay with you always."

But of course, I had to go. I quietly dressed again, pulling the sheets up around my sleeping angel's shoulders and dropping a kiss to her lips.

"Edward," she mumbled, "don't … leave …"

Her hopeless, heartbroken words took the air from my lungs. Like the cad that I was, I stole away into the night, leaving her all alone.

I tiptoed down the empty corridor to my bedroom, ever so carefully twisting the knob so as not to disturb my wife.

In the darkness I did my best to undress quickly and quietly, but I was a little heavy-footed from the drinks we had consumed and the post-coital exhaustion. I had just climbed into bed when suddenly everything was illuminated. I looked up to see Rose, in her silk nightgown and hairnet, pulling back from the bedside lamp.

"You were a long time, dear," she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I was beginning to worry."

"You don't usually."

Her nostrils flared, placing a blood-red fingernail on my neck. I frowned; Rose hated touching me.

"That's funny," she said, "I don't remember sinking my teeth into you."

"Really?" I barked out a laugh. "You did it seven years ago, along with your claws."

"I'm not a fool, Edward. You've got bite marks on your neck and you reek of—" she lowered her voice, "—sex. But to carry on here where any of our friends could see you? Have you no shame?"

"That's what this is about, isn't it? You only care what people will think!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Of course I care what people think! But not only that; that girl has had the audacity to touch what is mine. I don't share, Edward, so let me make one thing clear: you are my husband, and that is how it shall remain."

"We don't even like each other!" I hissed.

"As if that matters! I'd never live down the shame of being a—" she sniffed, "—divorcee."

"So, what? You want to stay married to a man that doesn't love you just to keep up appearances?"

"Of course," she said simply. "Doesn't everybody? Love doesn't come into marriage, you know that."

"It certainly doesn't come into ours."

"Well, since I am the only one who can petition for divorce—something I will not do—you might as well get used to it. We will smile and show people we are perfectly happy." She sneered. "And you will get rid of your little slut before you disgrace me!"

"Don't you dare call her that!"

"I will do what I like now, Edward, and you will listen to me."

I was raging. "You are my wife, Rosalie, you do not give me orders!"

"Well then, as your poor, wronged wife, I might just happen to mention your … indiscretions … to Jessie; we all know what a gossip she can be." She admired her scarlet nails. "Your precious Isabella will be shamed and shunned until she is left all alone … who knows, maybe she'll find herself getting homesick once she is made a social pariah."

The twisted smile on Rosalie's face showed me she found perverse enjoyment in destroying my happiness. We both knew she had me; I could not let Izzy be held up to public shame and become fodder for the gossiping harpies of London society. That pack of rabid wolves would tear her apart. And the possibility she could return to New York? Christ. I needed her around me in some capacity, even if it was just to admire her from afar.

I dropped my heavy head, nodding slowly.

"I'm glad you see it my way," Rose simpered. "Now, let's get some rest. If I don't sleep soon I shall have the most terrible dark circles tomorrow."

I turned over glumly, and with our backs to each other, Rose flicked the light switch. Soon she was breathing evenly, but sleep would not claim me. My mind and my heart were five doors down the hallway.

Rosalie was all sweetness and light the following morning, but the iciness in her eyes told me nothing had changed. We were the last down to breakfast and the moment we walked in, my eyes were drawn like magnets to Izzy, who stood helping herself from the buffet.

My wife clung to me like a limpet as we all wished each other a good morning, and I soon realised what her intentions were.

"Come along, darling," Rose said, guiding me over to the plethora of fine silver dishes, "I worked up quite the appetite last night."

My jaw dropped open that she would dare say something like that.

"Rose!" Jessie giggled. "For shame!"

"What? All that dancing really took it out of me." My wife sent an exaggerated wink across the room and began making up a plate for me.

In any other circumstances, the array of food—various forms of eggs, thick rashers of streaky bacon, toast and homemade preserves, creamy porridge and fresh fruit—would have been heavenly. As it was, I felt sick to my stomach.

"Alice and Jasper were just telling us about their winter holiday," Esme said as we took our seats at the antique walnut table.

"Oh?"

Alice nodded excitedly. "We're going skiing in Chamonix! Can you just picture it? Wrapped in furs in a winter wonderland, watching the stars around a lovely warm fire …"

"Oh it sounds lovely! So romantic." Rose turned to me, caressing my hand. "Perhaps we could consider it for next year, darling?"

I felt my nostrils flaring, and my fist clenched beneath the table. "Perhaps."

The look on Izzy's face as Rose fawned all over me splintered my heart into a thousand pieces; the hurt was plain to see in her downcast eyes and the small but sad smile on her perfectly imperfect lips.

Internally, I sighed. No matter how much I wanted her, it wasn't fair to keep her. She deserved someone who could be with her freely and openly, not in clandestine encounters and stolen moments.

I loved her. And because I loved her, I would let her go.

The weekend continued in much the same vein, with Rosalie barely giving me room to breathe, much less find time to speak to Izzy. She was staking her claim.

A fortnight passed under my wife's hawk-like eyes, and I hadn't been able to see my love. Izzy deserved to have me end things to her face, but Rose would not have it. She wanted Izzy crushed by my sudden indifference towards her.

The clock on the mantelpiece had just struck midday when my greying butler entered my study.

"Sir, you have a visitor," Caius said. "A Miss Isabella Swan."

I shot up and began pacing. I wasn't ready for this, but I also knew I couldn't put it off any longer. "Show her in."

Today was the first time Rosalie had dared venture out with her friends, no doubt to spend a fortune. My plan had been to go and see Izzy around when I knew Rose would be taking high tea, but it looked as if my love had beat me to it.

The moment she came in, I felt another weight press on my chest. She was a vision in a pastel green and cream sundress, with a matching little cloche hat, and ivory lace gloves held in her hands.

"Edward," she murmured, her voice gently caressing my name. I could tell she was nervous by the way she fidgeted with her hands. "I've missed you."

She only paused for a moment before she came forward, reaching for me. I took a step back.

"Edward?"

"I'm sorry, Izzy. I want to, God, how I want to …"

"But you can't." Her voice was the softest cry, sending another splinter through my shattering heart.

"No, I can't." I gestured for her to sit, swallowing a lump in my throat.

She took a seat, folding her hands in her lap. I tried to get the words out, but they kept getting stuck. It would break her; it would break me. Finally, I had no choice.

"We can't do this anymore, Iz," I said thickly. "We were fooling ourselves into thinking we could carry on."

"W-why now?" Her trembling voice almost broke me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Rose knows. She knows and she's adamant she won't petition for divorce. Worse, she's threatening to drag your name through the mud."

"And yours, too," Izzy added, taking a deep breath in. There was a long silence before she spoke again. "I don't care about my reputation, but I do about yours, so I understand. I couldn't let that happen to you either."

When I looked up, she was nodding slightly, more to herself than me. Her soulful brown eyes glistened with tears and she wiped one away as it spilled over.

"I want you to know," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "I love you more than anyone else in this world, even if you don't believe me. If things were different …"

"I know, but they're not." She got gracefully to her feet, clutching her lace gloves in one hand, and smoothed down her skirt.

"I'm so sorry, Izzy," I murmured. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Smiling sadly through her silent tears, she raised a hand to tenderly cup my cheek. "Love is a fool's game, darling; we can't all be winners."

She reached up on her tiptoes, her soft lips delicately brushing the corner of my mouth before she turned and fled out the door.

A month.

A month since I had last seen my Izzy, smelled her sweet fragrance, felt the touch of her lips on mine, and I was still in as much agony as I had been the moment she left me staring at the heavy door to my study.

She had not been to any of our dinner parties or dances or trips to the theatre, not even making an appearance at Royal Ascot or the Henley Royal Regatta. I did not dare ask anyone where she was, and in my presence no one brought her up in conversation. I needed to see she was okay, to know she would move on. If it wasn't for my vivid memories and the pain I felt in her absence, I would think she had been a dream.

The members' lawn at the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club was still rather empty as we emerged from the clubhouse, though given the fact play didn't commence for at least another three hours, I wasn't surprised.

Waitresses in their black dresses and white pinafores carried trays of Pimm's and champagne amongst those who had already gathered, and I took a glass of the latter, pleased for something to numb the ever-present ache in my chest.

The only upside to the day was that Rosalie had complained of a migraine and had opted out of coming to watch the men's semi-finals. Myself, the Newtons, Whitlocks, Cullens, Angela and Benjamin had also been joined by another couple of our acquaintance, Victoria and James, who had just returned from their holiday home in the French Riviera.

"James." I nodded, shaking his hand. "Victoria. Lovely to see you both again." My voice was flat even to my ears.

"Edward," Victoria greeted me. "It really has been too long. You and Rosalie must come to the villa soon. Where is she anyway?"

"She's at home with a migraine."

"Oh the poor love. We'll have to do lunch next week." She brought her cigarette holder to her lips, exhaling as she turned around. "Jessie, darling, there you are; I have the most scandalous news!"

Along with my wife and Jessie, fiery-haired Victoria was one of the most catty women I knew, and she soaked up gossip like a sponge. In that second, she had that look about her, the one Rosalie got when she was bursting with gossip, usually at someone's expense. Normally I tuned it out, but something told me I needed to hear whatever she had to say. So while Michael droned on about his father's business, I listened in.

"I saw that American girl, Isabella, before we left for France last month," Victoria said, a glint in her eye. "You'll never guess where!"

From the corner of my eye, I could see her audience was instantly captive. Alice, however, looked uncomfortable. Somehow she knew what Victoria was about to say.

Jessie was practically salivating, a hound on the scent of blood. "Well come on, tell us!"

Victoria smirked, sipping her champagne to draw out the suspense. "I was visiting Maggie."

"Your sister?" Jessie frowned. "Didn't she just have a baby?"

"Yes. I had just visited her and baby Fred, when I saw a rather upset Isabella coming out one of those side rooms."

There were gasps all around, but I stood stock still and silent. My heart, which had already been thumping, was trying to beat its way out of my chest. Heat all over my body, panic setting in, colour draining from my face.

Jessie was beside herself. "You never think she's ...?"

A month ago. The last time I saw her. I never did find out why she came to see me because I was too busy breaking off our affair. Oh God, my Izzy!

Victoria grinned gleefully. "Judging by the tears and the way she rested her hand on her stomach, I think Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes has been less than virtuous."

The women—Jessie, mainly—lapped it up, thrilled at the prospect of such a scandal. All I could think, however, was how I needed to go find her. Quickly. She must be so scared.

"More champagne, sir?"

I waved off the waitress, barely noticing what I was doing, and headed for the clubhouse. I didn't care if anyone saw me and thought it was odd. I needed to get to Izzy. We would find a way; she would not be alone.

"Edward!" I heard Alice say, loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough to be proper.

I spun around.

"Edward, can we talk privately for a minute?"

"I really must—"

"You cannot see her," she whispered.

How was I to respond to that? If I asked why, it would be confirmation of my affair.

"I won't betray your secret," Alice continued kindly, "but you can't see her."

My jaw dropped open. How did she know?

I gently led her to the side, lest anyone overhear us. "Why, Alice?"

"Because she's not there."

"Not there?" I asked in horror. "What do you mean? Where is she?"

"All I know is she leaves from Southampton today." She pulled a letter from her square handbag. "Here. She asked me to give this you today; she didn't want you to know until she was out of London."

I took the envelope in shaky hands, staring at Izzy's beautiful calligraphy. I didn't even realise Alice had left until I went to thank her.

I took a seat in the lounge area across the lobby, now filling up with members filing through in their suits and elegant frocks, laughing and joking. How was it possible for their worlds to go on when mine was in tumult?

Trying to keep my hands steady, I carefully opened the letter.

30th June 1925

My dearest Edward,

If you're reading this, you know I am no longer in London. I sail for New York on the 2ndJuly. Forgive me for being cowardly, but this was the only way I could think to tell you the news. I knew I could not handle seeing you again.

A month ago, I found out I was with child. Your child, my darling. While I know I may be vilified and ostracised for my choice, I want you to know I am keeping the baby; I could never have him or her adopted, for they are a part of you. It is of comfort to me that while we will be a vast ocean apart, I will have something of you with me.

Do not worry, though, we shall not disturb your life. I am hopeful Jacob will still accept me, baby and all. If we are married quickly, we can raise the child in a stable family, and I promise he or she will always be loved and looked after.

Despite the pain I am in since we parted, I will always be glad you came into my life. Be happy, my darling, and know that you will always be the one that owns my heart.

Yours eternally,

Izzy

If it weren't for the fact I was in a public place, I was not ashamed to admit I would have been crying. As it was, my eyes pricked and my throat was thick.

The pain in her words matched the pain in my heart and I simply couldn't let her leave. I had to be with her.

Instantly, I grabbed a newspaper from the table in front of me, flicking to the correct page, my eyes searching for the ship listings.

The RMS Juliana sets sail from Southampton for New York via Cherbourg at three o'clock in the afternoon, this Friday 2nd July, 1925.

I hastily pulled my pocket watch from my waistcoat, the hands reading a quarter to eleven.

Four hours was all I had.

I was up in a flash, racing out the front doors towards the main road, jostling people as I went. I didn't even stop to apologise; all I could think about was getting to Izzy.

It was just as I'd hailed a taxi to take me to Waterloo when I realised I didn't have my wallet on me, making me swear under my breath. I couldn't remember putting it in my pocket this morning, so I knew it was probably still in the safe.

I gave the driver my Mayfair address and told him I'd pay him handsomely if he could get me there quickly and wait for me. Judging by his driving, he'd certainly earned his fare, and I was soon hurtling up the front steps, knocking on the front door.

At first I was surprised to see Mary, our maid, answer, but as I rushed past her, it clicked. We had given Caius and the rest of the senior staff the day off since we were going to Wimbledon.

I took the stairs two at a time, bounding toward the bedroom door, flinging it open to a sight that rendered me speechless for a second, before I exploded in rage.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I yelled. In our grand, hand-carved four-poster bed, my wife lay with her legs spread, a thrusting Emmett in between them. Their moans turned to screams of shock at my entrance as they scrambled apart.

My nostrils flared and I charged across the room, incensed. I reared my fist back and punched my former friend square on the nose. He groaned, falling back against the pillows.

"Edward!" my wife yelled.

"Cover yourself up, Rosalie!" I ordered, stalking across the room to unlock the safe. Sure enough, my wallet sat inside. I grabbed it and headed for the door. "You were supposed to be my friend, Emmett!"

"You were supposed to be her husband!" he said, his voice muffled as he held his nose.

I shook my head. "I don't have time for this. I want you both gone by the time I get back; Rosalie, you can go stay with your mother."

Rose snarled. "Don't you dare run off to see your little tart!"

I growled in anger. "Do not sit there moralising with me, issuing me orders while you're still naked with another man in my bed!"

"What was I supposed to do?" Rose asked, feigning a sniffle as she tried a different tactic. I wasn't buying her sudden little-girl-lost act. "I needed comfort while my husband has been off in the arms of another woman."

"Spare me the sob story, Rose, you couldn't have cared less! All that mattered to you was a show of a perfect marriage." I shook my head. "Well, neither of us has to be unhappy any longer."

"This doesn't change anything, Edward!"

"Really? You're in no position to argue with me, Rose, unless you want the whole of London to know about your own … 'indiscretions'."

She was silent.

"I didn't think so," I said. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

And with that, I was out the door.

I spent the journey to Southampton reading and re-reading Izzy's letter. This time I noticed the blots of ink where her tears had stained the thick paper and the way her hand had clearly shaken on certain words.

As the steam engine hurtled along the tracks heading south, I found myself getting increasingly agitated, frequently pulling out my pocket watch to check how long I had left and urging the train to go faster.

When we finally pulled into the station, I was out the door the before we had even stopped moving. Clouds of steam from the train hung in the air as I weaved in and out of passengers, porters and luggage trolleys, the chugging of departing engines echoing under the glass roof. I was fortunate the station served the docks as the clock up above told me I had just fifteen minutes left.

In the distance, the looming figure of the Juliana cast a dark shadow across the docks. The throngs of travellers and relatives bidding each other goodbye, porters, and ship officials carrying out the standard checks from the passenger lists were thinning now as the great ship began emitting steam from the gargantuan funnels.

"Excuse me!" I exclaimed breathlessly, approaching a crew member about to embark.

He looked at his clipboard. "Are you a passenger, sir?"

"No, but—"

"Then I'll kindly ask you to move along. We are about to sail."

I stepped in front of the gangway. "You don't understand, someone very important to me is on board and I must speak with her!"

"We can't delay for a lovers' quarrel, sir. Now, please step aside."

I was not letting this ship leave without finding Izzy. I pulled a wad of notes from my wallet, thrusting them towards him. "Here, take this, just please. I need to speak with Miss Isabella Swan. I'm begging you; she's carrying my child. I can't let her go!"

He didn't take the money. "I'm very sorry, sir, but there is no time. If you don't step aside, I shall involve the police!"

The sound of the ship's horn reverberated around the docks, making me turn my head instinctively. The crew member took the opportunity to push past me, running up the gangway and through the iron door as the ship began to pull away.

I looked around frantically. Surely there was someone else left to ask, some other way onto the departing vessel? But all I could see were relatives and friends waving to the passengers now on deck, the gap between the gangway and bolted doors growing wider.

Kicking the ground in anger, I locked my hands behind my head and began pacing. I would go after her. I didn't care what ship I had to sail on. I'd go in a cargo ship if I had to, just as long as I got to New York as quickly as possible.

I turned, deciding to head for the little information kiosk. They would know.

It was then that I saw it. Really, it was hard to miss. Suitcase upon suitcase, the fine leather luggage surrounded a bench. Tingles shot along my spine as my eyes fell upon the figure sitting in the middle. Up past the Mary-Jane shoes, the nude stockings, hands clasped across her torso, clad in a white and lilac dress. Her rich, chestnut hair in its finger-waved faux-bob, partially hidden beneath a cloche hat. And finally, I lost myself in those expressive pools. Joy, trepidation, uncertainty, love, all swimming within as she stared back.

"Izzy," I murmured, momentarily stunned.

The second a tear fell from her eyes, I was in motion. I swept her up from that bench, lifting her into my arms. She buried her face in my neck as I rubbed circles on her back, whispering words of love and affection.

When she pulled back, I looked down between us, and sure enough a small but definite bump protruded from her stomach.

I placed my hand over her belly, not caring if anyone saw.

"I couldn't go," she whispered. "It felt wrong. You deserved the choice whether or not to be in our child's life." She lowered her eyes. "Did you mean it? You couldn't let me leave?"

I tilted her chin up. "Yes, I meant it. I would have followed you as soon as the next ship left."

"But I thought …"

I pressed a finger to her soft lips. "I know and I'm so, so sorry for everything. I've been miserable, Izzy. My heart hurts every minute of the day. I can't sleep, can't eat, can barely breathe. I realised today we would have to find a way somehow, because I can't lead a life without you in it."

"What about Rose?"

"I'll explain everything, but I don't think it will be hard to get her to petition for divorce. We'll just have to ride out the scandal."

Doubt lingered in her eyes. I didn't blame her.

"Izzy, if you still want to go to America, I'll come with you. Or we can stay here, or go anywhere in the world if that's what you want; just please give me one more chance to show you I'm not going anywhere."

"You mean it? We can be t-together?"

I smiled. "Yes, darling. You, me and our little one."

A strangled sob came from her as she flung her arms around my neck again. I hugged her to me like a life preserver, basking in her scent and her light weight in my arms.

"God, I love you, Izzy," I said, my voice thick.

She pulled back, her beatific smile full of emotion. "I love you, too."

Tenderly I brought my lips to hers in a sensual but respectable kiss. The sensations and emotions were more powerful than ever before, knowing what it was like to be without her. We pulled apart, both longing for more, but knowing here wasn't the place. We had much to talk about, but that could wait until we were somewhere more private.

I beckoned a porter over to load the luggage onto a trolley and wrapped an arm around Izzy. Clinging to each other, we walked out towards the taxi rank, towards a new life that awaited us, together, as we should have been from the start.

Well then, didn't that end nicely? :) I'd love to hear your thoughts!

I'm back on Facebook /loulew87 :)

I also have a Facebook group, just search 'Louise Lewin's Fic Corner.'