A/N: Thank you so very much for all of the wonderful reviews! I am thrilled that you are all enjoying this story so far! There will be one more chapter after this one, and then another MUCH longer story that I already have in the works. Thank you to my wonderful beta for her constant encouragement and support, and for catching my mistakes when I do not.
Cora lowered her lashes and grinned as Robert smiled at her. She couldn't help but stare back at him as they moved across the dance floor. It amazed her that he could still make her cheeks blush and her heart flutter after all of their years together. She smiled back at him, knowing that her ensemble had achieved the exact effect she had been hoping for. Truth be told, she thought about that first meeting quite often. As she glanced at her husband, she still saw that same handsome young man that had approached her in that ballroom.
Cora glanced nervously around the crowded Mayfair ballroom. She had been in London for just over a month. In that time, she had attended several different balls and events. She often wondered how on earth she had allowed her mother to talk her into this. London frightened her. The noise and the crowded streets left her with an uneasy feeling. There were cultural references that she did not understand. Everyone was polite enough to her face, but she had heard the snickers and whispers behind her back. She knew well enough from growing up in Cincinnati and New York that, despite being wealthy, the name Levinson would always carry a certain stigma. She herself was not Jewish, but no one seemed to understand that. Now, she also had the label of 'American' to contend with; which, in the eyes of most of the English, was as egregious an offence as being of Jewish decent.
The young men whose acquaintance she had made were all the same. They were only attracted to her money. She knew that all they saw when they looked at her was a pretty face and a dollar sign. And, the women were worse. She was constantly confronted with glares from the English roses that flitted around the ballroom. They knew more about how to flirt with a man than Cora, but they were all envious of Cora's beauty. She had known that this was a bad idea from Martha's first mention of it. She had rolled her eyes and protested vehemently, but Martha was insistent. She wanted to better the Levinson name. In her opinion, the only way to do that was for Cora to marry into the aristocracy.
Cora had implored her father on the day of their departure to not make her go. Isidore had sympathized with his only daughter, but had encouraged her to at least try and enjoy herself. "Who knows?" he questioned with a shrug of his shoulders. "You may just meet someone and fall madly in love with him." Cora highly doubted it. She had already danced with dozens of men, and she had yet to meet one with whom she even cared to share a second dance; let alone the rest of her life. She was counting down the days till the end of the London Season and the end of her mother's social experiment. Cora had agreed to go along with this hair-brained scheme under one condition: that should she not be engaged-or at least close to it-by the end of the Season, that she never have to do it again. Martha had reluctantly agreed.
Now, as Cora stood against the wall of the ballroom catching her breath from the latest dance, she felt more hopeless than ever, and was secretly glad that her next dance had not been claimed. She needed a break from having to wear a practiced smile and coy demeanor. She glanced around the room, catching sight of her mother talking with a group of women. Her flamboyant laugh could be heard from across the ballroom, and Cora inwardly cringed at the sound.
Her eyes continued to move around in observance when they suddenly landed on the face of a young man whom she had never laid eyes on. Cora could swear that her heart stopped beating for a moment. His dark, wavy hair was contrasted by his soft blue eyes. His strong chin and broad shoulders exuded an air of confidence; not the arrogance that Cora had so often encountered. Cora was drawn to him in a way that she couldn't explain.
"Lady Eleanor, who is that gentleman over there? The one speaking to the young lady with red hair?"
Lady Eleanor glanced in the direction where Cora was gazing. "That's Robert Crawley, Viscount Downton. He's heir to the Earl of Grantham." Lady Eleanor brought her gaze back around to Cora, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Cora tried desperately to appear nonchalant as her heart hammered behind her ribcage. "He's just very handsome is all."
"Hmm," Lady Eleanor hummed disparagingly. "He's also very cold. I've been trying to get him to notice me for two Seasons. I can't get him to give me a second glance." Just as she once again focused her eyes in Robert's direction, she gasped as she noticed that he was walking in their direction. "Oh, my heavens! He's coming over here!"
Cora was certain that her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She swallowed, fighting to maintain her composure, but could not help the smile that spread across her face as Robert approached.
"I do apologize for interrupting you, ladies."
"Not at all, Lord Downton," Lady Eleanor cooed. Cora fought the urge to roll her eyes at the way Lady Eleanor batted her eyelashes at Lord Downton. Could the woman be more obvious? "What can we do for you?"
"Actually, I had hoped to make the acquaintance of your new friend." Cora gasped quietly, hoping that the eagerness she felt wasn't being displayed on her face. She watched as Robert turned toward her, bowing slightly.
"I'm Robert Crawley." God, she loved the sound of his voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"
"Levinson," Cora answered quietly, struggling to find her voice. "Cora Levinson. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Downton."
"The pleasure is mine, I can assure you," he replied. "Would you do me the great honor of dancing this next waltz with me? That is, if your dance card isn't full already."
Cora blushed as her mind raced. He wanted to dance with her! "No, it isn't." She was more thankful than ever for that open space on her dance card. "And I would be delighted, Lord Downton."
She took his proffered hand, butterflies settling in her stomach as he led her onto the dance floor. The music began, and Robert placed his hand on her back. For the first time since arriving in England, Cora actually felt happy. She couldn't help but notice how easily they danced together, and how perfectly she seemed to fit in his arms.
"I don't know this one, I don't believe" Robert observed.
"It's the Sleeping Beauty waltz," Cora intoned, smiling at the surprised look on her partner's face. "It was composed only a few month ago. By Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky. It's beautiful, don't you think?"
"I do," Robert answered softly. Cora couldn't help but to blush at the way he observed her. For the first time, she felt that someone had finally seen past the dollar sign and was actually looking at her.
The dance was over all too quickly. "Miss Levinson, I know it isn't proper, but would you happen to have the next dance available?"
Cora picked up her dance card. Every single dance was taken for the rest of the evening. As much as Cora wanted throw caution to the wind and spend the rest of the evening dancing with Lord Downton, she knew she would never hear the end of it.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Lord Downton, but my dance card is full for the rest of the evening."
"Oh."
Cora's heart leapt in her chest at the look of disappointment on Robert's face. Could it be that he actually liked her? "But, I've been invited to Lady Manville's ball next week," she said, tilting her head to catch his eyes. "Perhaps I'll see you there?"
She couldn't help but notice the look of relief that seemed to wash over Lord Downton's features. "I look forward to it," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Cora thought she would faint right then and there. "Good evening, Miss Levinson."
Cora watched his retreating form. Before she had time to catch her breath, she found herself dancing with yet another young man who bored her to death. She nodded politely as he talked, feigning interest in their conversation. But, she couldn't take her mind off of Robert Crawley. Perhaps her father had been right. Perhaps she had met the man she was going to marry.