This chapter took much longer than I wanted to write but here we are. I'd like to thank the few of you who have reviewed this story so far, it's very much appreciated. The next update is a bit uncertain as I'm currently in the middle of writing another story for a different fandom, so I'll be going back and forth between the two for a while. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!
Chapter Two
It was nearly midnight by the time Cora entered the Levinson's rented townhouse on Berkley Square. The butler who greeted her made no indication of his curiosity at the sight of her ruined dress as he held the front door open.
"I'll head straight to bed," Cora instructed him. "Please have Andrews meet me in my room."
The butler nodded. "Certainly, miss." He watched her climb the stairs before retreating to the servants' hall.
Though she would normally wait for her maid, Cora began undoing her hair, pulling out the many pins that were used to hold the design together. Once free, she ran her fingers through the waves and curls of her long hair, finding that a few blades of grass came free. She flicked them away towards the small wastepaper basket next to her vanity, thinking back to her horrible confrontation with the Duke.
She hadn't meant to lead him on as strongly as she did. She liked him, at first, for he was quite handsome and polite. They'd danced beautifully together, and Cora thought maybe she had found the gentleman her mother was so desperately searching for, until he suggested that they retire somewhere private, to a place devoid of prying eyes and listening ears. Without thinking, she had agreed.
Cora looked down at her dress, fingering the delicate, silk material that wasn't damaged. She had refused the Duke's demanding kiss and instead of an apology he'd become angry, violent even. No, as grand as the title of Duchess would be to her and her family, marriage to a man with a heated temper would never be worth it.
She sighed and carefully pulled out her dangling diamond earrings, stowing them away in the small jewelry box her father gave her for her fifteenth birthday. He told her he'd found it in an antiques shop during one of his visits to New York City. She admired the elegance of the carved, wooden box. It was stained and polished in a deep red-brown with ornate edges and a sterling-topped lid, a soft, red velvet inside to keep her most valuable jewels safe from damage.
But the thought of her father made Cora miss him even more. He stayed behind in America with her younger brother, Harold, to manage the family business and its investments. They wrote often, sometimes several times a week, but the letters never came chronologically. She didn't mind. Just seeing her father's or her brother's handwriting was enough to brighten even the most dreary of English afternoons.
A light knock sounded on her door and Cora turned around, seeing her maid, Andrews, step in. "You're back early, miss," the young woman said, moving to stand in front of Cora. "I was expecting to be woken in the middle of the night."
Cora smiled. Elizabeth Andrews was her maid of three years now, and though they were roughly the same age, Cora thought of her more as a sister than a maid. They enjoyed gossiping on the latest news Elizabeth heard from the other servants and Cora often swapped stories about the juiciest scandals and upcoming nuptials she overheard her mother discussing. Both were beyond excited at the prospect of exploring a new country together, but the two hardly had time for gallivanting around London like schoolgirls. Cora was constantly under her mother's scrutiny in preparation for the ceremony where she was to be presented at court. She'd done well enough, as Martha told her often, but she needed to dazzle if she wanted to gain the attention of an eligible bachelor with a title.
"I'd just like to be out of this dress," Cora said, standing from the chair at her vanity.
Elizabeth gasped at the sight of her mistress's gown. "Cora!" She shook her head, momentarily forgetting her place. "I mean, Miss Cora, what happened to your dress?"
Cora ignored her maid's imploring question. "Do you think you can fix it without letting my mother know?"
Elizabeth bent down and picked up the torn hem to examine it. "I can't promise much, but I'll see what I can do." She wondered about the stains but knew better than to ask.
Cora smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." She turned around to allow her maid to undo the buttons at the back.
"So how was it?" Elizabeth asked.
Cora kept her gaze trained on a painting hung just above her vanity. "Hmm?"
"The ball?"
"Oh, of course. It was . . ." Cora tried not to think of the Duke. "It was very eye-opening."
Elizabeth finished with the last button and then carefully began peeling the short sleeves of Cora's dress down. "Does that mean you've found someone?"
"What?" Cora spun around quickly, almost tripping over her dress as it slid down her thin frame.
"Careful!" Elizabeth reached out to steady her. "You know, one of those wealthy, handsome princes or whatever they call them here."
Cora straightened herself, as much as she could with her restricting corset. "Oh, not really." But she blushed as she thought of Robert—Lord Downton to be more precise.
Elizabeth giggled, seeing her friend's face turn red. "There is someone, then."
"No!" Cora shook her head. "I mean, I did meet someone, yes. He was very kind—we danced, of course."
"And?"
Cora turned her head slightly to look back at her maid. "And I may have agreed to let him call on me tomorrow."
"Will we be seeing him often, then?"
Cora let out a breath as she was finally freed from her corset. She slipped on her dressing gown and turned around to face Elizabeth. "I like him, but I don't know."
"Only time will tell, I suppose."
"Yes, quite right."
Elizabeth scooped up her mistress's soiled gown, allowing it to drape over both of her arms. "If there isn't anything else . . ."
Cora sat down on the edge of her bed. "No, thank you, Elizabeth. Goodnight."
Elizabeth bowed her head. "Goodnight, Cora."
Once her maid had left, Cora shrugged out of her dressing gown and climbed into bed. She smoothed the bedsheets out then reached for her book on the bedside table. As much as she wanted to read, her mind kept drifting to the handsome face of Lord Downton—Robert, as he preferred to be called.
She didn't know what to think of his sudden interest in her. For all she knew, he was just being polite on account of her distress. But there was something strange in the way he held her as they danced. They'd been so close to one another it was deemed inappropriate by most of society. But Cora felt comfortable with Robert, not at all worried that he would take advantage of her like the Duke.
She closed her book and slipped it back on her nightstand, deciding that she couldn't concentrate enough to read. She turned down the gas lamp and rolled over onto her side, remembering what it was like to be held in the arms of a gentleman. Her mother was bound to give her a lecture in the morning, but Cora tried not to dwell on it.
She was tired of being pulled like a puppet and dressed like a doll to fit the English standards of society. Perhaps that's why she missed America and her father so much. It was a whole different world here in England. She didn't understand. She could have just as elegant of a life and marriage to one of the boys who was keen on her from back home. But her dear mother wanted more than just wealth and comfort; she wanted a daughter who was noble, and Cora didn't think she could picture herself as such.
But Mr. Crawley—she liked the sound of that rather than his title—apparently found her charming enough to want to see her again. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Cora turned over onto her other side, feeling too stressed to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and pictured his handsome face, those blue eyes that were bright and full of life, his prominent chin that looked as if it had been sculpted by an artist, and that head of dark hair. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Her heart thumped faster, recalling how soft his lips felt when he kissed her hand.
Her eyes popped open, realizing that her breathing had gone heavy and that she felt rather warm. She thought of ringing Elizabeth for a glass of water, but didn't want to disturb her. She already thrust enough work on her with the damaged dress it hardly seemed worth it to wake her maid.
Bound to put him to the back of her mind, Cora once again tried to sleep, thinking back to her life in America. Instead of the bustle of New York and the beaches of Newport, the handsome young man in white tie and tails somehow managed to invade her dreams.
. . .
The following morning, Robert spent most of breakfast ignoring his sister, Rosamund, who kept asking questions about his sudden disappearance at the ball the previous night.
"Please, Robert," Rosamund begged, staring across the table at her brother, "stop keeping us in suspense."
"What's this, then?" asked Patrick Crawley, the present Earl of Grantham. He turned in his chair to face his son, his brow furrowed.
Robert shook his head. "It's nothing, Papa. Rosamund exaggerates when all I needed was some fresh air. You know how stuffy those ballrooms can be, all the fumes from those gaslights can be quite stifling."
Patrick frowned. "Ah, yes. Of course."
"He's evading the truth," Rosamund continued, rolling her eyes.
"Oh, will you shut up!" Robert finally snapped, throwing down his cloth napkin with such force his silverware rattled against his breakfast plate. He stood up from his chair, not caring that their family butler, Barrington, was witness to such a spectacle.
"Robert!" his father roared. "Sit back down this instant! You will apologize to your sister at once for your tawdry language!"
Robert balled his hands into fists at his sides. He spoke through clenched teeth, "I apologize, Rosamund, for my tawdry language." He adjusted the cuffs of his cream-colored linen suit, still glaring at his sister. "Now I must go. I have an important meeting and I mustn't be late."
Patrick huffed out a deep breath once his son made his exit. "I swear, what's gotten into him? He was perfectly fine yesterday."
Rosamund pushed around the remains of her breakfast, feeling chastised. "I suspect it has to do with last night's ball."
"Hmm, I see."
Rosamund looked up at her father, who turned back to reading the morning paper. She knew her brother was under pressure to find a wealthy girl to marry, but it unnerved her how her parents didn't seem to care one bit about Robert's happiness. It was all for the good of the estate, they said. But she wanted to know what did happen at that ball the previous night to make him so tetchy the following morning. And knowing her brother, Rosamund was going to have to wheedle it out of him until he squirmed.
Robert left Grantham House as fast as he could. He hardly slept at the prospect of seeing Cora again. It had taken some time to find her exact address, but he thanked the footman who had sent the mother home. The Levinsons, as he found out, were renting a modest townhouse in Berkley Square. It was on the opposite end of Green Park and Robert felt the walk, though not a short one, would be refreshing, despite the heat of mid-July.
He stopped briefly on the corner of Piccadilly and Berkley Street to check his pocket watch. It was nearly noon and the heat seemed to be insufferable already. Replacing his watch, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He couldn't very well show up on Miss Levinson's doorstep looking like a hard-worked farmer. Perhaps he should have taken a carriage instead? He shook his head, taking in a breath, and continued up the street.
Robert found the house easily enough. He rang the bell and less than a minute later the door opened, revealing the wrinkled face of the family's butler.
"May I help you, sir?" the butler asked, his voice deep and gravelly.
"Yes, I'm Robert Crawley. I've come for Miss Levinson," Robert said. "Is she in?" The butler's hardened expression made Robert uncomfortable at first, but he let out a relieved breath when the man finally stepped aside, holding the door open further to allow him entrance.
"I believe she's in the sitting room, sir. I'll let her know of your arrival."
"Thank you." Stepping inside to the foyer, Robert removed his hat, feeling relief from the slightly cool temperature of the house. It wasn't as grand as Grantham House, but still elegant none the less. He gazed up at the high ceiling, which reminded him of some of the rooms at Downton. He turned at the sound of growing voices emanating from an adjacent room.
"Mother, I already explained what happened," he heard Cora's voice, sounding somewhat irritated.
"Cora, darling, I thought I taught you better." That must be the mother, Robert discerned. "You do not accept an invitation from a man unless I say it's acceptable."
"It always has to be acceptable, doesn't it, Mother? Why can't I explore the city? Oh, because it isn't sensible for proper young ladies."
"Cora Levinson—oh dear, excuse me!" Martha exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest at the sight of the strange gentleman standing in the foyer.
Robert glanced first at Cora, noting how lovely she looked in her pale blue dress with white lace, then to her mother. He stepped forward to introduce himself. "I'm Robert Crawley. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Levinson."
Martha raised an eyebrow at the young man's etiquette. She extended a hand for him to take, which he politely did, leaving a gentle kiss to the back of it. "Heavens! Quite the gentleman."
Cora crossed her arms over her chest. "I told you he was a gentleman, Mother."
"Don't be smart, Cora. You know it doesn't suit you," Martha said, giving her daughter a chastising look. "And uncross your arms. We have a guest."
Robert fingered the rim of his hat, uncertain how to navigate the waters of the Levinson women. "I apologize, Mrs. Levinson, for such short notice."
"Please, call me Martha."
"Of course. You see, your daughter and I shared a dance at last night's ball," Robert explained, "and I suggested to show Cora around London. That is, if it's acceptable?"
Martha grew quiet all of a sudden, looking Robert up and down, deciding whether to let her daughter run about the city with a stranger. "I'll agree to let Cora go," she decided, "as long as her maid follows along with you."
Cora let out an exasperated sigh. Could her mother further embarrass her? "I don't think bringing Andrews is necessary, Mother."
"Certainly it is," Martha said. "An unmarried young woman is never seen out in public without a chaperone."
"That's perfectly acceptable, Mrs. Levinson—erm, Martha," Robert intervened, sensing the tension between mother and daughter. "I don't mind if Cora's maid comes along."
"You see, Cora." Martha turned to look at her daughter. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I'll ring for Andrews then," Cora sighed as she slipped past her mother, giving Robert a somewhat shy smile, and made for the grand staircase.
"Now, Robert, was it?" Martha asked him. "You must tell me which part of England you're from." Without hesitation, she took Robert's arm and led him to the sitting room.
Feeling flustered, Robert let the loud, unusual red-haired woman guide him away. He couldn't help but gaze back at Cora, admiring her backside as she stiffly ascended the stairs. No matter the conditions, there was nothing that would stop him from seeing her. The mother might be a little brash and over-bearing, but then again, so was his own mother. Perhaps their families just might get along?
"How were you able to dodge your maid?" Robert asked Cora once they began their walk down Berkley Street.
"Andrews and I are rather close, you could say," Cora replied, giving him a smirk and a sideways glance.
"Surely your mother will discover you've been out with a man unaccompanied."
Cora flicked her wrist. "She won't talk. Anyway, I hardly know anyone in London." She pointed to a man standing outside a shop on the other side of the street. "For all we know that man over there probably thinks we're siblings."
"Or a young couple."
Cora turned her head sharply to look at him, not quite believing what she just heard.
Robert cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I just seem to say whatever's on my mind lately. I'm not sure why . . ."
Cora twisted her parasol in her hand, focusing on the park that was ahead. "It's quite all right. I'm guilty of the same thing myself sometimes, usually around Andrews."
"Your maid?" She nodded and Robert smiled. "I think that's a wonderful thing—having someone close you can talk to."
Cora hesitated a moment before asking, "What about you, Robert? Do you have someone close you can talk to?"
As they entered Green Park, Robert centered his attention on his walking stick. "I believe so," he finally replied. "Though I wouldn't say we're as close as you are with your maid."
"I suppose it's different between men than it is with women."
Robert turned his head to look at her. Her cream-colored and embroidered parasol covered much of the left half of her face, but what he could see from under the brim of her sun hat looked radiant. Her chestnut hair he remembered had a reddish tint now that they were outside and seemed to shine under the summer sun. Her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue from the heat and he felt his heart racing to catch up with the many thoughts that swam through his head. He couldn't take his eyes off her and by now she could probably sense that he was staring.
"Yes, I suppose you could say so," he said, though she must not have understood what he meant earlier about confiding in someone close. He already felt connected to her, if you could call it that. It would only sound foolish if he said so out loud.
"Are you an only child?" Cora asked, finding herself curious to know more about him.
Robert felt a bit surprised by her question. But he felt it was appropriate, especially if he planned on courting her. "I have an older sister actually—Rosamund." He chuckled. "We usually don't see eye to eye. You're more likely to find us arguing than anything else."
Cora smiled. "It's like that with my brother as well."
"Is he also in England with your family?"
"No. Harold—my brother—and my father stayed behind in America so they could keep the family business running."
"Where in America are you from? I've never been there, but I've heard it's a vast place."
"Oh, it is!" In her excitement over his question, Cora reached over to touch his arm. "I'm originally from Cincinnati—that's the Midwest—but when my father's business grew we moved east to New York and now we have a summer home in Newport as well."
Robert remained captivated by the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of her home country. He imagined rugged hills and plains and industrial cities. It sounded like a dream—a dream he might like to explore one day. "Newport? That's on the coast, correct?"
"Yes. I just love the ocean and its beaches."
Robert felt himself getting bold, but he couldn't help it. Everything about her seemed to mesmerize him: the accent, her beauty, even her exotic tales of America. He just hoped she wasn't already attached to someone.
"The southern coasts of England are quite beautiful," Robert said. He extended an arm. "Beaches that stretch on for miles and not a house to be seen. It's rather quiet down there, but I always loved our family visits, as rare as they were."
"Now that you've mentioned it, I should like to venture there myself."
Robert turned to face her again. "Would you?"
They passed a stone fountain and Cora let her fingers skim across the surface of the water, imagining the beaches and the ocean Robert described for her. "Oh, yes. I've never traveled this far before, let alone set foot in a foreign country. I'd very much enjoy the possibility of exploring it."
Robert couldn't contain himself. His heart was beating twice as fast and he could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck, saturating the stiff collar of his white shirt. If only he wasn't tied to an estate he would take Cora that very instant. He could picture the two of them walking down the beaches of Dorset, paddling through the ocean as the waves lapped at their bare ankles, helping each other scale the many towering cliffs that lined the coast. Maybe someday, he thought, letting out a wistful sigh. Maybe someday.
"As I promised I would, I shall be your guide, Miss Levinson," Robert said, returning to the present.
"And you've done a fabulous job thus far, Lord Downton."
They both chuckled at the formalities. Neither worried about the familial pressures surrounding them; they could remain free . . . for a time.
As the heat seemed to rise and their clothes continued to grow slick with their sweat, Robert steered them towards the exit of the park. "I know a place I think you'll enjoy."
A playful smirk spread across Cora's lips. "Are you that certain, Lord Downton?"
He turned his head to look at her. "Yes, Miss Levinson, I am."
In a matter of minutes they left Green Park and crossed the street to Hyde Park. They followed the footpaths, Robert leading the way as Cora talked more about her younger years growing up in the Midwest.
They came to a stop at the edge of the Serpentine, a forty acre lake situated in the middle of the park. Gaggles of geese littered the walkways and grass, scavenging for signs of food. Cora smiled, delighted at the sight of swans floating elegantly on the surface of the water, some of them stopping at the edge where children gathered to feed them.
"Would you like to feed them?" Robert asked, taking note of how wide her smile stretched.
Cora nodded emphatically. She was used to geese and seagulls back home in America, but the sight of a white swan up close was incredible. "I would, very much so."
Robert walked over to the man selling bags of bread crumbs and wheat. He gestured for Cora to join him next to the small group of children. He poured the food onto the palm of his hand and held it out to the swarming swans.
"Does it hurt?" Cora said, now a bit hesitant at feeding them.
Robert chuckled, watching the swan pecking at his hand. "Not really. It just tickles. Here, you try it."
Cora let Robert pour a small amount of food onto her hand. She held it out and in seconds two swans battled for the rights to the bread crumbs. Cora laughed lightly, the sensation of the orange beaks tickling her palm and fingers. "You're right. It does tickle."
They fed the swans what was left in the leather pouch Robert purchased then retired to an iron bench that overlooked the lake.
"It's so beautiful here in the summer," Cora commented, folding her parasol down and adjusting the brim of her tan sun hat.
"It is," Robert replied, "at least when it isn't raining."
Cora laughed. "Yes. I've been here for all of two months and already I'm starting to tire of it."
Robert laughed along with her, enjoying how easy it was to be around her. He pointed at the lake. "You know a friend of mine from Eton participates in the swimming competition they have here every Christmas morning."
"Isn't it rather cold for swimming outdoors?"
"Extremely, which is why you have to be an excellent swimmer."
"I'm sure."
They grew quiet and Robert took the time to observe Cora more closely. He noticed details he hadn't seen when they were together last night in the garden at the ball. She had a few freckles spotting her cheeks, most likely from summers spent in Newport, and thick, elegant eyelashes framing those captivating blue eyes of hers. He glanced down at her hands, which were holding the curled end of her parasol. He left his walking stick to lean against the arm of the bench. He wanted desperately to hold her hand again, but knew better than to risk such a display in a public park. He wasn't formally courting Cora yet, but he could easily imagine spending his days away from his family to be with her.
"Cora?" Robert said, fully intending to ask her permission to court her.
She turned to face him, squinting against the sun. "Yes, Robert?"
He licked his dry lips, silently cursing the terrible heat. He could feel himself sweating again, now nervous that she might decline his offer. His fingers twitched and fidgeted as he tried in vain to form the words. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I know we've only just met, but I've so enjoyed my time with you."
He stood up from the bench and Cora straightened her back, feeling slightly afraid that he was going to propose to her. "Robert, what are you saying?"
He reached out for her hand and she tentatively placed it in his open palm. "Cora Levinson," he began, "would you grant me permission to court you?"
Cora leaned back against the bench, sighing with relief. She wanted to be married someday, but now seemed much too soon. She gripped his hand, letting their fingers naturally entwine. She took a moment to think, not tearing her eyes from his. He was a handsome young man, maybe a year or two older than she, and he wasn't the first to take an interest in her since her arrival in England. But he was the most persistent, even though they'd only known each other for a short day. She needed to think carefully, knowing that if she agreed he was most likely going to propose marriage sometime in the near future. He'd ask for her parents' permission as well, she knew, but was she ready to give up what little freedom she had as a single woman? It wasn't love yet—certainly great affection and friendship, but there was definitely something more between them, she could feel it.
"Well?" Robert said gently, pulling Cora from her reverie. "May I?"
After giving it one last thought, Cora smiled. "Yes, you may."
Upon hearing her answer, Robert wanted to leap for joy. Instead, he smiled so broadly his cheeks began to ache. He carefully pulled Cora up to her feet so they were standing face to face. "Oh, my darling, you have no idea how happy I am," he said, bringing her hand up to his lips.
He knew he shouldn't have done it with so many people meandering about, but he couldn't help it. She was the loveliest woman he'd set eyes upon the entire season. He was aware that he needed a wealthy heiress to save his family's estate and Robert cared for Downton just as much as his parents did, but there was so much more to life than just having a title. And he suspected that this American girl just may be his ticket to a long and happy life.
Cora stepped closer to him, putting her free hand to his cheek. "You'll still have to get permission from my parents."
Robert nodded. "Of course. But what about your father? He's in America."
Cora let her fingers smooth over the fine hairs above his ear. "You'll have to write to him, once my mother agrees that is."
"When shall we tell her?"
"Over dinner. We'll make a formal announcement."
Robert's eyes widened. This was all progressing much quicker than he thought. "Tonight?"
Cora shook her head. "No. How about next week? I'll arrange everything with Mother when I return then send out an invitation. I assume your parents will want to hear the news as well?"
Robert's smile faded slightly, momentarily forgetting that aspect under their air of happiness. "Yes, I suppose they will."
"Good, then it's all settled."
His grin returned at seeing how happy she looked. "I can't describe to you, Cora, how truly happy I am. You're so kind and beautiful."
Cora felt her heart flutter at his words. "Oh, Robert. I wish we were alone. I don't think I could stand another minute without kissing you properly."
Robert closed his eyes briefly, imagining such a scene. "Let's not rush it," he said, gazing back into her eyes. "We'll find the right moment."
"Yes, I believe we will."
Robert took hold of his walking stick, letting Cora take his left arm. "Shall we?" She opened her parasol and they began their walk back the way they came, remaining silent but content with their newfound relationship.
As they distanced themselves from the lake, Robert tensed when he recognized Eleanor Marsden walking towards them. He suddenly remembered that he had promised her at the ball that he would take her for a stroll in the park. He quickly glanced at Cora by his side, pretending not to show recognition.
"Lord Downton," Eleanor said, stopping the couple. "I'm glad I found you."
Robert tipped his hat. "Good afternoon, Miss Marsden."
Eleanor seemed a bit surprised by the sight of Robert's companion. "I see you have company."
"Yes. This is Cora Levinson," he said, introducing the two women. "Cora, this is Eleanor Marsden, we, um, met at last night's ball."
"How lovely," Cora said, holding out her hand. "I'd never been to a ball quite as grand as that before."
Eleanor weakly took hold of Cora's outstretched hand, unfamiliar with the girl's unusual form of greeting. She forced a smile, turning to face Robert. "Yes. It was quite splendid. I very much enjoyed our dance together, Lord Downton."
Robert could feel the sweat pooling at the collar of his shirt, beads of perspiration forming at the top of his forehead. "Of course. Though we all had our fair share of dancing."
"Yes. But I was disappointed when you didn't show up to collect me for our walk today," Eleanor said, her lips forming a pout. "I was lucky enough to run into you this afternoon."
"Robert, is that true?" Cora asked, turning to look at him.
Robert swallowed hard, realizing the trouble he'd put himself into. "Yes, but that was before I met you."
Cora extracted her arm from Robert's. "I thought you were a gentleman, Robert Crawley. I should have known better, what with my string of bad luck here."
"Cora," Robert tried to explain, "that's not how it is between us."
Eleanor seemed to be forgotten between the two as she watched their heated exchange, amusement edging her features.
Cora looked away from him, peering over at Eleanor. "I started to trust you. I accepted your offer."
"Don't tell me you're engaged already," Eleanor gasped, her voice almost a squeak.
Robert glared at her. How dare she interfere with his private life! "We're not engaged, and frankly, it's none of your bloody business, Miss Marsden."
Eleanor reached up to touch her forehead, swaying as if she might faint. "I say!"
"Robert!" Cora hissed under her breath. "What an awful thing to say to her!"
Robert sighed deeply. "I apologize, Miss Marsden, for the way I spoke to you. I merely dismissed our previous engagement on account of my distractions. I don't mean to sound crass, but I fully intend to court Miss Levinson—that is, if she'll still have me?" He turned once more to look at Cora. She seemed to have softened a bit from her burst of anger, which was a good sign.
Even though he had given another woman the wrong impression, he apologized, which to Cora, showed how serious he was about the two of them. "Yes, Robert, you still have me." To reassure him, she took hold of his hand, gripping it tight.
Eleanor frowned, almost sneering. "If that is your decision, I wish you all the happiness in the world, Lord Downton. I apologize if I caused a scene earlier, though you two should really be careful about how you conduct yourselves in public. You never know where a journalist may be lurking. Now if you'll excuse me, I shall be off. Perhaps we'll run into each other again?" She left the question dangling as she brushed past the couple, the skirts of her dark plum dress ruffling as she went.
Once Eleanor was gone, Robert further tried to explain himself, "I'm terribly sorry, Cora. I know what you must think of me and there's no good reason for you to accept my courtship of you after what transpired, but I'm pleased that you have—truly I am."
"Robert—"
He held his hand up. "I must finish what I want to say." He paused, taking the moment to look deep into her eyes. "It's true that I offered to take Miss Marsden for a stroll through the park, but then I met you and nothing else seemed to matter." He took her other hand. "I can't lose you yet, Cora, not when we've barely started."
"As I said earlier, you still have me. I'm not going anywhere."
Robert felt relieved. The sight of Eleanor put him in a state of panic he'd been so afraid of what she might say. Propriety be damned! he thought, pulling Cora against him, their arms wrapping around each other. He pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, "Thank God for you."
He almost lost his best chance at happiness. Under no circumstances would he allow that to happen again. "I think we should be heading back," he said, pulling back from their embrace. He removed his pocket watch to check the time. "Your maid's probably wondering where we've gone to."
Cora agreed. "I suppose one can only peruse evening dresses and frocks for so long."
Robert held out his arm. "Shall we try this again?"
She smiled, taking hold of his arm. As they resumed their walk back, Cora couldn't help but think how lucky she was to have met Robert. She held a great deal of affection for him already, feeling certain that love would come soon enough. He had a title, which she knew her mother would be happy about, but that didn't seem to matter to Cora as much as she thought it would.
They walked in silence, but Cora took a moment to gaze at him. His light three-piece suit was elegantly tailored to fit his broad shoulders and tall frame. His hair seemed curlier than it did at the ball, some of the strands curling against the brim of his hat. He must have sensed her stare, for he turned his head to look at her. He smiled, which in the short time they'd known one another, made her pulse quicken. Cora tightened her hold on his arm, feeling certain that she had found her match.