The ball had ended. An hour or so had passed and the house was darker, quieter.

Elsie Hughes had closed up shop, thought of waiting for him, curled up in her chair in his pantry. Her feet ached from dancing, dancing with everyone but him. Despite the fatigue and the long day, she was restless. She mounted yet another trek up the stairs. Following the tell-tale slivers of light, she found him just beyond the servery before the servant's banquette in the upstairs dining room. The darkness partially cloaked her – her dress and shining eyes. And she was free to observe.

He was simply dashing, swaying to an unheard song that filled his whole countenance. He had danced plenty that evening. Her ladyship, Mrs. Crawley, and Lady Mary looked quite pleased to be dancing with such a capable partner.

Now, he practically sashayed about the hidden area of the dining room. His tiepin was proudly shining and it was slightly odd to not see him in his evening livery this late at night. But the servant's ball compelled the servant's to dress in a more relaxed manner. Charles Carson, however, found it difficult to relax, even during a ball held in their honor. Even as he concentrated on sorting out the servery, looking slightly rushed–he was happy, that she could discern.

Somehow he knew to look for her. They could always find each other in a crowded room, in a sprawling party across the lawn. He had always thought it was a matter of professional harmony. But as they had ventured to keep their acknowledged love a private affair for the time being, he found his eyes inexorably pulled towards hers. It was a delightful, albeit inconvenient, discovery over the past few weeks.

To his alarm, his fascination with her almost completely sunk their secret when Lady Mary nearly caught him out. But even with his parting pearl of wisdom to Lady Mary, it appeared his engagement was under wraps, for now. Despite feeling relief, unease quickly settled in. While his cryptic admission to Lady Mary wouldn't faze Mrs. Hughes in the slightest, he needed to tell her of his actions

Smiling ruefully, the truth of his statement to Lady Mary – that he needed steadying as he moved with the times – was never more apparent to him in that moment. In all his dithering about the future, Elsie Hughes would steady him – with a raised brow, a warm glance, or a soft hand. Somehow, she would keep his fears at bay.

And now, his eyes rose automatically, finding her emerging from the shadows. Her gait was the same, her glowing eyes perhaps even brighter now that they understood each other so fortuitously. He breathed deeply as she approached before remembering himself. "I'm almost finished," he remarked hastily. It was late and their nightcaps had suddenly risen to even greater heights of importance.

"It's alright," she soothed with warm eyes and a kind smile. So easy, he thought.

The rest had gone up for the night. She had seen to it personally, knowing that a reward would be for the taking somewhere on the main floor.

The evening had been another success – a servant's ball conducted impeccably. It was a wonderful follow up to a most eventful Christmas Eve party. Mr. Branson and Sybbie were not present this time, having just arrived in Boston. But that did not stop tradition – housekeeper dancing with the lord of the house, butler with the lady of the house.

It would have been a wonderful opportunity for the newly betrothed couple to dance together – sharing their news, or even merely living a little again in front of their staff. Their new status was a precious thing. It wasn't something to bend or break easily under scrutiny. But that didn't mean the couple wanted to invite prying eyes just yet.

Notably, neither was exactly pleased with reality for one simple fact: they had never danced together. It was the sentimental Charles Carson that shared his maudlin thoughts one evening.

With knitted brows, he ruminated, "Another ball, another dance without you. I wish it was different." It was a simple admission. But to her, it was profound.

Her growing smile had comforted and warmed him on that chilly eve.

"I know," she responded with commiseration. Since their engagement, Elsie Hughes was in endless awe of how much Charles Carson thought about the details about their relationship. Without warning, she found small glimpses into that inner-world in the past few weeks. Her love for him was steadfast well before Christmas Eve. But somehow the roots grew deeper, now that she was able to reflect on it, to share her blooming smiles as they continued to build their lives together.

Sighing, she concluded pragmatically, "But it's probably for the best. I wouldn't exactly enjoy an audience quite yet." She wasn't disappointed over his words or the thought of it being a matter of not flying in the face of tradition. That he'd asked her to marry him for love, and love alone, showed that Charles Carson was capable of casting off the hold of tradition if he felt so inclined. She didn't need any other proof.

"I'm not sure I would even notice an audience," he murmured much to his own surprise. Chocolatey-hazel eyes locked with sapphire orbs. Nothing could be heard but the steady ticking of the clock and an unmistakable intake of breath.

Later, he took her hand in his that evening, kissing it reverently as he'd done for the last fortnight. Nothing more, nothing less (save for a kiss on the cheek on New Year's). For two people that spent their lives not overflowing with effusiveness, it was a considerable, intimate act.

Time would slow in those moments, and so would his grazing lips. She could feel a slight cool rush with his sharp inhale, the tip of his soft, cold nose, and the warmth of his faintly moist lips. She'd made a study of him for years. But to know how his lips felt on her skin after he'd unconsciously licked them was a new and pleasant surprise.

All of that had felt like such progress, until the way he gazed at her so transparently before the Servant's Ball.

The day was long past over, but still she felt incomplete. The way he had looked at her, made her body come alive without even touching it – she wondered what else could be unearthed from her regal, stoic, yet soulful betrothed.

His work brought him closer to the doorway of the servery, and his attention followed suit. Her eyes were going softer by the minute, entrancing him. Distantly, he wondered how long they could keep their news private. It was unprofessional to gaze soppily upon the housekeeper, of course, despite how she increasingly enchanted him now that they were engaged (with tales of her youth, of sweet Becky, with her laughter and the smiles she gave him behind her locked door). But they had agreed to share the news after the sting of Tom and Sybbie's departure lessened. It would be another week, they gathered. Or it would be as long as Lady Mary allowed his cryptic comment to go unexplained.

But that dress, and how well Elsie Hughes wore it. She could wear her winter robe and a hair cap and he'd still find her endlessly beguiling. Lord knows he'd guiltily made a study of her necklines in all of her housekeeper attire. But this.

Soon, his efficient movements halted. Sorting out the servery for the following day's breakfast was soon trumped by a burgeoning need. Only his hand on the cupboard prevented him from reaching out to her to kiss her hand, perhaps her cheek. Perhaps more.

She'd seen that look before – knew that the soft gaze would soon give way to a masterful gleam. That look alone made her breach catch, as it had done for almost a year now.

A gleam of her own soon developed–a plan had soon hatched.

Before his gleam appeared to signal all work was off, she heeded, "Come and find me when you're through. I'll be in the morning room or the libraries."

A turn of the heel, and she was gone.

Charles Carson was perplexed and intrigued, pausing for a moment to recollect on the beguiling sight of her retreating form. Redoubling his efforts, his tasks were nearly completed in short order. He knew never to engage in that sort of thinking, let alone follow her retreating form with his eyes when others were around. But he knew she had seen to the staff's departures for their waiting beds. It's what had made him so impatient to finish.

Crossing into the smaller library, Mrs. Hughes instantly regretted her plan once she attempted to put it into action. Mr. Carson, the dear man, would likely become upset at the very notion she now contemplated. But Mrs. Hughes picked up a slim volume and began reading hastily. Perhaps there was some chance of success, after all.

To be continued.

A/N: Thank you *so much* for your support for Chapter 3. It is a difficult balancing act with Lady Minx, I mean, Mary. Dee, I think you said it best - she is self-absorbed, but she also does cares deeply for Carson. It's very difficult to put that into words on any given day. But now that he's allowing himself to be seen in a different light, especially when everyone gets word of the engagement, well... that just upped the stakes quite a bit, didn't it?

If you have the time, I'd love to read your thoughts - so share!