Previously:

Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 2014

"Before we begin, what incentive do I have to win this game?" Matthew asked.

"I should think it obvious," Mary smiled.

"Yes, of course," Matthew swallowed. "But, it seems that even if I lose, I still win."

"Ah, well, perhaps I should be more clear on that. You see, the winner will not only receive the pleasure of seeing the vanquished naked, but will also have certain privileges for the rest of the evening."

"Privileges, you say?" Matthew asked, staring at her playful eyes.

"Yes, privileges," she said mischievously. She leaned closer to whisper into his ear.

"Win the game, darling, and not only will I be naked for you, but I'll do anything and everything you want for the rest of the night. I'll obey your every command, Matthew," she drawled.

Matthew coughed suddenly, hitting his chest several times to calm himself.

"Or, if I win," Mary said in a lighter tone. "I may just choose to leave you here and go back to my own bed. Is that incentive enough?"

"What's the first question?" Matthew stammered.

Mary smiled and drew the first card from the deck.

Chapter 8:

Carlisle World Media Group Incorporated, 34th Floor, St. Mary Axe, London, England, January 2015

Richard looked out the window at the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf in the distance. When he moved into his offices at The Gherkin years ago, he knew there were other office buildings in London that were taller, but 30 St. Mary Axe was different. The office tower won awards for design and architecture, and it was iconic, becoming a symbol for London the way that a more generic building could never be. From this bold and modern colossus, he ran his empire, his very presence a triumph – the self-made man overseeing a secretly nefarious organization amidst the staid and proper insurance companies and banks situated on the floors around him.

He sipped his Scotch, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the cloudy sky. He had worked tirelessly over the years to build his domain, to put his hand into numerous ventures. The media companies were his public face; newspapers, televisions channels, websites, bringing the news to the masses, a noble profession as old as time. The casinos were less sophisticated, but far more profitable. Clean and polished gambling dens, taking people's money in a swift whirl of the slot reels and throws of the dice. Gambling was an ancient pastime, luring people in with the weak promise of a quick fortune, tolerated to this day by the government because of the immense taxes and fees generated. Richard employed an army of lawyers and accountants to make sure that his businesses always appeared to be law abiding and proper. He complied with all applicable regulations, paid his taxes and donated to charities. He had learned his lessons well from his ancestors – show the people a pretty picture, and they'll ignore the ugliness beneath.

Everything was going smoothly. His takings from the drug dealers and prostitution rings and protection money paid by small businesses in his territories were all funnelled through the casinos, mixed in with the hard earned pounds of his customers, and laundered until they emerged squeaky clean. Nothing traced back to him, a web of numbered companies, straw men and ghosts shielding him from any link to illegal activities. The moment any pimp or dealer or hitman was arrested, another rose up a few weeks later to take his place. No one ever snitched on him to the authorities, because no one knew he was the man at the top of the chain.

The money poured in and he was invincible. He could have anything he wanted, and though he was intensely private, he did enjoy his indulgences. Expensive cars. Fine liquor. Women who submit to his more deviant pursuits. He was the virtual ruler of the London underworld, untouchable and all powerful. Until Matthew Crawley arrived.

Richard sipped his Scotch, a scowl taking over his face. Richard's relationship with Lord Grantham and Crawley Group was always one of ambivalence. They stayed away from each other for the most part. Robert Crawley was too smooth to dabble in the dark shadows that Richard did. The Earl of Grantham was a model of manners and elegance, content with his casinos, his construction company and his investments. He was barely a criminal, that one, keeping one foot firmly planted in Society while he dabbed his toe in the underworld from time to time. His greatest crime was withholding taxes, though the family had been carrying on that way for so long the amount they owed by now was staggering, to be sure. Still, Richard paid the man his respects when they saw each other, was polite and cordial to his family, particularly his eldest daughter, Lady Mary and his sister, Lady Rosamund, and left it at that. Their casinos catered to different clientele, and Crawley Group's operations were mainly focused in London, while Richard's reached across England and to the world beyond.

Richard allowed Crawley Group to control their portion of the market, consisting mainly of the high rollers and big spenders and men with new money who wanted to show off. Richard drew in the commoners, the lower classes, the punters, of which there were many millions more. It was an amenable relationship, until Matthew Crawley arrived.

"Do you have any comments on the quarterly numbers, Sir Richard?" a tiny voice called.

Richard turned around and placed his empty glass on the desk, sneering as he looked at the financial reports spread out on the glass table top.

"They are disappointing, to say the least," Richard replied, not looking at the lackey sitting on the other side of the desk from him.

"While revenues are down, Sir Richard, you are still showing a nominal profit," the man said cheerfully.

Richard shot him a warning glare. The man swallowed nervously and looked down at his tablet.

"We were in line for record takings through the third quarter," Richard mused, turning around and going back to the window, stroking his chin with his fingers. "What changed?"

"Oh, these things are difficult to say with any accuracy, Sir Richard," the man laughed shakily. "So many variables, you see."

"My investors will expect an explanation," Richard said coldly. "What shall I tell them? That there are too many variables to account for?"

"No," the man answered meekly.

"I have it on sound authority that the revenues of Crawley Group were surprisingly robust in the final quarter of last year," Richard said drily. "Strange that they would have a spike in their numbers at the same time that ours are lagging, isn't it?"

"Very strange, indeed, Sir Richard," came the answer.

"And yet compared to last year, there was very little industry-wide growth," Richard said. "So, while more people are gambling with Crawley Group, and less are gambling with us, that doesn't explain the difference entirely, does it?"

"No, Sir Richard. No, it doesn't," the man said.

"It's those websites," Richard said thickly. "Our principal market – the middle class – they're choosing more and more to do their gambling online. That's what's cutting into our numbers. People are choosing to stay home and gamble from their own living rooms."

"But, Sir Richard," the man interjected. "William Hill and bet365 are not reporting a significant increase in revenues over the same time frame."

"Those websites are regulated by the government," Richard answered, still looking out the window. "I'm not referring to them. I'm referring to offshore websites, the unregulated, uncontrolled, overseas operations. Those websites are taking away our customers, and at an alarming rate, if these numbers are accurate."

"But why would anyone gamble with a mysterious illegal website when there are legitimate options here at home?" the man asked.

"Simple," Richard said, his anger rising. "The promise of greater returns. Better odds. Bigger payouts. All payments made by convenient credit card or email money transfers, and all from the comfort of one's own home."

The man swallowed again.

"Leave," Richard ordered.

The man scurried out of the office as fast as his feet could carry him. He had heard the tales of the last unfortunate soul who had to bring bad financial reports to Sir Richard.

Since Matthew Crawley's arrival just a few short months ago, Crawley Group's market share had boomed. The casinos formerly being run by Patrick Crawley were transformed from money haemorrhaging pits to profitable operations. More and more of the middle class were finding their way into Crockfords, and The Colony Club, and The Palm Beach and Maxims, treating themselves to the pampering and fantasy that the staff spun under Lady Mary's direction.

But that wasn't the real threat. These websites were the true danger. Richard didn't understand it completely, and his lawyers could not even begin to navigate the phalanx of websites and nameless companies to figure out the organizational structure behind everything. All Richard knew was that he was losing a lot of money, and that Matthew Crawley was responsible for it.

Richard clenched his teeth together as rage bubbled inside his chest. Months on from their first meeting and Matthew Crawley was proving to be every bit the problem Richard thought he would be, and Richard's patience was wearing thin.

Harrods Department Store, Knightsbridge, London, England, January 2015

"This would look rather dashing on Matthew, don't you think?" Cora asked, looking over a light blue tie. "It matches his eyes."

Mary frowned as she glanced at the length of silk. "He prefers Armani," she shrugged. "And I believe he already has a tie in that particular colour."

"I'm glad to hear that you've taken note of such things," Cora nodded, placing the tie back on top of the display case and moving away.

"I thought that you were looking for something for Papa," Mary said, following her mother as she continued through the Men's section.

"What gave you that idea?" Cora smiled, stopping at a rack of Armani dress shirts and looking them over.

"Because you don't have any other men to shop for, unless you forgot to send something to Uncle Harold for Christmas," Mary said, looking at her mother suspiciously.

"I didn't have any other men to shop for previously," Cora agreed. "Now though, I have your boyfriend to consider."

"My boyfriend," Mary repeated.

"Yes, Matthew," Cora smiled. "Is this his size, do you think?" she asked, holding up a white twill dress shirt.

"I am well aware of his name, thank you," Mary said wryly. "Matthew has his shirts tailored. Why would you want to buy him anything, besides?"

"Just as a kind gesture," Cora said lightly, continuing on to look at the row of suits. "A bit of a thank you, for all he's done."

"Are you intending to make him employee of the month or are you referring to how he's agreed to take on your eldest daughter?" Mary replied.

"Don't be sarcastic; it's rude," Cora retorted. "I told you that you would end up needing Matthew, and I'm pleased to see that you've taken my words to heart."

"I barely remember you saying that," Mary rolled her eyes. "And that had nothing to do with my decision to date Matthew."

"Be that as it may, let's not pretend this isn't the answer to all our prayers, your Papa's and mine," Cora nodded.

"Yes, yes, everyone should be so delighted that I've finally given in and snared Saint Matthew in my web," Mary shook her head.

"That's not quite what I meant," Cora said pointedly.

"Then what do you mean, Mama?" Mary sighed. "When I announced our news at dinner last month, you and Papa barely reacted, and now you're out shopping for presents for Matthew? It's quite strange."

"We weren't going to discuss…delicate personal matters…at the table, but rest assured, your Papa and I are entirely supportive of the both of you together," Cora said.

"Of course you are, you love Matthew," Mary grumbled.

"How we feel about Matthew doesn't matter," Cora said quietly.

Mary frowned at her.

"Well, it's not the only thing that matters," Cora recovered. "And besides, the fact that we like him is not the main reason why this is such a good match."

"What are you talking about?" Mary asked.

"You know how Papa is," Cora smiled, shaking her head. "He's always thinking about the future – the future of the family, the future of the company, all of it."

"And what does that have to do with Matthew? He isn't part of the family, as much as you may want him to be," Mary frowned.

"Matthew is the future, my darling," Cora said quietly. "Papa says his websites are a license to print money, and virtually untraceable back to him, or to us. With Matthew's capital, your future and that of your sisters is assured, no matter what happens to the rest of the company."

"That's why you and Papa are so keen on Matthew and I being together? For his money?" Mary asked in shock.

"We have reason to believe that his fortune is quite substantial," Cora nodded. "He pays part of his profits to the company, of course, but he gets to keep the rest. He's been saving his share for years, and if he could be convinced to use it for the good of the family one day, so much the better."

"Why do we need Matthew's money?" Mary asked. "The casinos have never been more profitable, and Edith's business isn't doing that poorly."

"Things can change quickly, Mary," Cora said, looking down at the floor. "Maintaining Downton becomes more expensive every year, to say nothing for your grandmother's home and our other holdings. Despite what he says, your Papa doesn't have the same ambitions that he used to. Matthew may be just what the family needs."

"You mean his money may be just what we need," Mary rolled her eyes.

"No, I mean that he knows us, he's already a part of our world and has been since childhood. He knows why the family matters, why it mustn't be allowed to fall apart," Cora nodded.

"That's rather melodramatic, don't you think?" Mary retorted. "In any event, why hasn't Papa brought this up with him?"

"Your Papa never likes to admit that he needs anyone's help, particularly when he's been the captain of our ship for so long," Cora shook her head. "The arrangement with Matthew was always for fixing Patrick's mistakes and improving the performance of his division. It was never discussed that Matthew would stay on permanently. Now, however, he has a very good reason to remain."

"Matthew and I have only been dating for less than two months," Mary reminded her. "What makes you think that he'll want to stay around for good?"

"I'm sure you of all people can keep a young man's interest without any help from me," Cora said haughtily. "Can't you understand how perfect this is, Mary? If Matthew pledges himself to you, and his money to the company, then all will be settled, and even better than we could have hoped for."

"So that's it? I'm to be Matthew's wife and get out the way while he takes over the company?" Mary asked.

"You know that he would give you a position if you asked for it. He adores you," Cora said. "And does it matter who is the President of the company if you are able to hold the power?"

"I always saw myself as being in Papa's chair, not standing behind it," Mary said bitterly.

"I know your character, Mary, but you should at least try to not be so stubborn," Cora complained. "You may end up wishing that you weren't."

Mary sighed and followed her mother to another section of the store.

Home of Alex Lewis, Imperial Wharf, London, England, January 2015

"You work too hard," Anna whispered, kissing his shoulder as she pressed herself against his bare back.

Alex smiled and turned his head, kissing her softly on the lips and running his hand through her hair. He turned back to his tablet and she remained sitting behind him, her head on his shoulder, her arms circled around his waist.

"That's quite funny. No one works harder than you," he said, scrolling through a series of photographs.

"All right, then you don't work efficiently enough," Anna smiled, rubbing his stomach. "Surely whatever you're up to can wait until tomorrow?"

"Just a few more minutes," Alex replied, his eyes still on his tablet.

"I must be doing something wrong," Anna said lightly. "Either that or you're used to having a naked woman hovering over you while you work."

"Does picturing you naked while we're in the office count?" Alex asked. "Because I've done that…quite a lot."

"How classy of you," Anna rolled her eyes, pinching his side. "And here I thought you were turned on by my intelligence. I'm just a piece of ass to you, am I?"

"Hardly," Alex smiled, turning and kissing her again. "Though I won't deny that I am rather obsessed with your ass, in addition to the rest of you."

Anna scoffed and kissed his cheek.

"Who is this?" Alex asked, showing her the photograph on his tablet.

"That's Lord Gillingham," Anna replied. "His family and the Crawleys go back generations."

"No, not Lord Gillingham," Alex said. "The man sitting beside him."

"I have no clue," Anna frowned, looking at the photo of a man with brown hair and brown eyes. "Where was this taken from?"

"The Colony Club, a week ago," Alex replied. "Lord Gillingham and this gentleman have come in every week this month, sometimes a couple of nights a week."

"Well that's not unusual," Anna said. "Lord Gillingham plays regularly at all of our casinos."

"Yes, I know," Alex nodded, staring at the photograph. "This other fellow is new though. He just comes in with Lord Gillingham, plays a few hands, drinks and leaves."

"What's so special about him?" Anna asked.

"I'm not sure," Alex said, turning off the tablet and placing it on the nightstand. "Maybe nothing."

"Can't you just take his photograph and run it through a facial recognition program?" Anna shrugged.

Alex turned his head and smiled at her. "I'm not in MI:6, and this isn't the movies. This is real life, you know. We don't have a database to compare it to."

"My mistake," Anna smirked. "You just look so dashing in a suit." She leaned in and kissed him.

"Now, if you truly want to know, just have Lord Gillingham's host introduce herself to him the next time he's in," Anna said. "See if he'll sign up to join the players' club, and he'll have to show his ID."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Alex smiled, turning around fully and taking her into his arms.

"Because you're just a pretty face," Anna winked, moving over and straddling his legs.

"Is that so?" Alex laughed, leaning in and kissing her neck. His hands trailed down and cupped her bottom.

"Of course," Anna smiled, closing her eyes as his lips moved down to her breasts. "Didn't you know? I'm only with you for your body."

"Ah," Alex growled against her skin. "Well, I had better do my best to earn my keep, then."

Anna yelped and laughed as he lifted her legs and shifted her on to her back. His mouth found hers and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he pulled the duvet over them.

"Well, then," Anna drawled, licking his cheek as he spread her legs around his waist. "Show me what you've got."

Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, January 2015

"What do you think?" Mary asked, staring at the design plans spread out on the boardroom table.

"I'm sorry to say that I'm rather useless at the moment," Matthew said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have no clue at all what you're looking at."

Edith smiled.

Mary rolled her eyes. "I don't like the placement of this wall," she said, pointing to the drawing. "I want this space to be entirely open. There needs to be a wow factor when the guests arrive through this entrance."

"There may be drafts from having so large of an atrium," Edith said. "You have to assume that the doors will be open constantly with guests coming in and out. In the winter months, that may be uncomfortable."

"Possibly," Mary said, narrowing her eyes. "But we'll have to risk it. The entire reception area must be visible from the outside, and this wall won't make it as enticing at it could be. Try and use a thicker glass for the doors or more insulation around the entrance. Between that and the heaters, hopefully that will compensate for any drafts."

"All right," Edith said, taking the plans and rolling them up. "I'll send over the revised plans when I get them back from the architect."

"Thank you, Edith," Matthew nodded. He nudged Mary after several moments.

"Yes, thank you," Mary said, going over and kissing her sister on both cheeks. Edith waved goodbye to Matthew and went down the hall to the elevator.

"You could be nicer to her, you know," Matthew smiled. "The two of you could make more of an effort to get along."

"Please," Mary huffed. "Not sharing enthusiastic goodbyes is the least of our sins against each other, believe me."

"You should have asked her to lunch," Matthew said as they left the boardroom and walked towards Mary's office. "We're going to be working with Edith on the expansion for the next year, if not longer. You'll need to get used to having her around."

"I live with her, Matthew," Mary frowned. "I don't need to spend time with her at the office on top of that."

"Well, you haven't been spending much time with her lately, have you?" Matthew teased.

Mary smiled at him playfully. "No, I seem to be away from home rather often as of late."

Matthew grinned. "Right, well, where to for lunch?"

"Oh, you go ahead," Mary nodded. "I have a call in about fifteen minutes."

"Ah," Matthew replied. "Well, I can wait for you."

"No, no, go on," Mary waved her hand at him as she took a seat behind her desk. "It's a fairly large conference call and who knows how long it will take. I'll just tell Anna to have something sent up later."

"All right," Matthew shrugged. He turned and left her office.

Mary sighed as she watched him go. She frowned and looked down at her desk, then shook her head and resumed her placid expression before she opened up her email on her computer monitor.

Gender Institute, London School of Economics, London, England, January 2015

Sybil closed up her notebook computer and slipped it into her bag. She rose from her chair and headed out of the classroom, moving down the hall and downstairs towards the front door. Finished classes for the day, she left the building, zipping up her coat. It wasn't too cold, so she decided to walk the short mile back to Grantham House. Slipping on her headphones, she picked out a song on her mobile phone, then began the trek home.

A silver BMW with dark tinted windows was parked at the kerb across the street from the school. As Sybil wandered down the pavement, the man sitting in the passenger side pointed his camera zoom lens at her and snapped several photos.

"Two o'clock. Right on time," another man said, scribbling on his notepad. "That'll do. We've got her schedule confirmed now for the week."

The driver of the car remained silent. When Sybil disappeared from view, he turned on the engine and pulled the car away from the kerb, driving off in the opposite direction.

London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, January 2015

Matthew frowned, standing in front of the television and scrolling through the onscreen channel guide. He began to realize why he didn't usually come home in the early afternoon. The offerings were limited to talk shows, soap operas and rather depressing all-day news channels. He sighed and decided on a home renovation show and walked over to his bike.

Crouching down next to the rear wheel, he adjusted the clamps on the stationary trainer and ensured the bike was locked in place. Satisfied, he turned and placed his foot in the pedal and swung his leg over as he got comfortable in the seat. He was just about to switch his phone to his preferred music playlist for training when the screen lit up with an incoming call. He adjusted his headphones and frowned as he answered the call.

"Mother? Why are you calling so late?" he asked.

"And hello to you, as well, Matthew," Isobel replied brightly.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Matthew rolled his eyes. "But honestly, what time is it there?"

"It's just past ten in the evening," Isobel answered. "I've just gotten back from a delightful dinner at that hotel on the water. You know the one, don't you?"

"The Marina Bay Sands? Yes, I know it," Matthew said, getting off the bike. "Where did you eat? At Waku Ghin?"

"Yes! That's the place!" Isobel said. "Delightful. Everything was so fresh and lovely."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I was afraid you were going to feed yourself on street food the entire time you were there," Matthew smiled.

"Nonsense," Isobel scoffed. "Now, how is everyone?"

"Very well. The family sends their best wishes," Matthew said.

"How nice," Isobel said. "And how is Mary?"

"She's fine," Matthew said guardedly. "She's running her division, and I'm running mine."

"Matthew," Isobel said pointedly.

Matthew sighed. "Who told you?"

"Violet did," Isobel said curtly. "Were you going to wait until I returned to England before informing me of your new relationship?"

"I…" Matthew grumbled. "I hadn't thought much about it, to be honest."

"Apparently," Isobel said.

"Mother, before you say it, Mary makes me very happy," Matthew said.

"I'm not surprised that you feel that way, dear, but it's early days still for the two of you," Isobel said.

"Mother," Matthew groaned.

"Matthew, I know how long you've wanted this, and I am pleased for you, truly, but you need to be careful. You don't think straight where Mary is concerned," Isobel said calmly.

"I know what I'm doing, Mother," Matthew frowned.

"I just want you to be realistic about who Mary is, is all," Isobel said. "And to be aware of the realities that you face by pursuing a relationship with her."

"I'm well aware," Matthew said. "I know what I'm doing, Mother."

"Fine," Isobel said. "But I'm still allowed to worry, you know."

"Yes, I suppose you are," Matthew smiled. "I'm just about to get on the bike, Mother. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Get some sleep. It's past your bedtime."

"That it is," Isobel laughed. "Good night, dear."

Matthew ended the call and got back on his bike. He scrolled through to his playlist as he began pedalling. Choosing the first song, he switched to his fitness app and placed the phone in its mount on the bike. As the first beats of the music rang in his ears, he leaned over the bike and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the song, rather than the echo of his mother's warning.

Home of Anna Smith, Chelsea, London, England, January 2015

"We're no closer to finding out who hired Green to send the tainted drugs to Mr. Patrick," Anna complained as she stabbed a tomato with her fork. "What about motive?"

"Patrick wasn't up to anything out of the ordinary in the days leading up to his death," Alex replied, taking a bite of the cucumber salad. "Something must have stressed him out for him to call Green so many times that night. He didn't really have a pattern, but he tended to place orders on the weekends, not during the week."

"Which means he got riled up over something and needed to take the edge of," Anna theorized.

"He was due to see Miss Parks a few days later for their regular appointment, so he just needed a quick fix to see him through," Alex added.

"So what was it that got to him?" Anna asked. "What was the big crisis?"

Alex shrugged as he reached over and refilled her wine glass.

"Who had the most to gain from Mr. Patrick's death?" Anna asked.

"Or who wanted him dead?" Alex countered.

"Plenty of people disliked him, me included," Anna grumbled. "But to want him dead? That's far beyond merely disliking him."

"A scorned lover, perhaps?" Alex suggested.

"He wasn't in a committed relationship, from what I knew," Anna shook her head. "The only woman he saw consistently was that prostitute."

"What about a cuckolded husband or boyfriend?" Alex asked, getting up from the table and taking their used salad bowls into the kitchen.

"None that we know of. It wasn't Lord Gillingham," Anna called out. "He disliked Patrick, but he would never lift a finger against the Crawleys."

"All right, so leave out lovers and rivals," Alex said, coming back into the dining room and placing the plate of chicken and vegetables in front of Anna. "Who else?"

"A business associate, perhaps," Anna said. "Though I can't imagine why."

"Did anyone within the company want Patrick out of the way?" Alex asked.

"We all wished he could work harder, or even just show up for work more often," Anna shook her head. "But no one wanted him dead. On top of that, there were no guarantees as to who would take over Patrick's division without him around. It isn't as though Mary was the automatic choice, as you're well aware. So killing him wasn't the way to get an advantage."

"Well, Matthew didn't kill him, if that's what you're wondering," Alex smiled.

"I wasn't," Anna smiled back. "But thank you for making that clear."

"What did Green say about Patrick again?" Alex asked.

"He admitted that someone ordered him to deal with Mr. Patrick, and he also said that person was far scarier than I was," Anna recalled.

"Scarier than you? Impossible," Alex teased.

"I know," Anna nodded. "The man must have been high when he said it."

"Whoever hired Green intimidated him. So, who does a drug dealer consider scary?" Alex wondered aloud.

"A police officer?" Anna said.

"Can't be," Alex shook his head. "Why would a police officer want Patrick dead?"

"Someone higher up the ranks, then," Anna said. "Someone above Green."

"Green was an independent from all that I've seen," Alex said. "He didn't answer to anyone and wasn't affiliated with any particular group since he left Lord Gillingham years ago."

"What about his suppliers?" Anna asked.

"The Latin Americans and Russians? Threatening Green with being cut off would be a strong incentive, but why would they go after Patrick?" Alex said.

"I couldn't tell you," Anna shrugged, slicing into her chicken. "But who else would Green be scared of?"

"Someone who could threaten him and back it up," Alex said, looking into his wine glass thoughtfully. "Someone who could either ruin his business, or kill him, or both."

Anna frowned as she ate her food. "What if Green wasn't hired by the actual killer? What if Green was just contracted by a middle man? A go-between?"

"An underling of an underling," Alex nodded. "That would protect the killer, and also make our investigation more complicated."

"Perhaps," Anna agreed. "They kill Green to throw us off the scent, and still remain protected by another layer."

"Though if you wanted Patrick dead, and didn't want it getting back to you, who would you trust to carry out the task? Green had to have specific instructions. They couldn't risk Green fucking up and sending Patrick a normal order of drugs. So, who would you want to have dealing with Green so that there would be no mistakes?" Alex asked.

Anna sipped her wine. She put her glass back down and frowned at her plate as she contemplated the question. Her eyes found Alex once again when a thought came to her.

"A hitman," Anna said slowly.

"A hitman," Alex nodded.

London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, January 2015

Mary separated the disposable chopsticks and placed them on the plates. One of the disadvantages of Matthew not having a proper kitchen was that he also did not have proper dishes or cutlery. Though she didn't mind eating her expensive take away sushi with flimsy wooden chopsticks and plastic spoons, it was a rather strange contrast. Matthew's suite was furnished with pieces from all over the world, the dining table made from a polished cherry wood, and yet here they were eating with plates and cutlery that cost pennies.

Matthew dipped a cucumber roll in soy sauce and popped it in his mouth. He swallowed a sip of Coke, then reached for his bowl of miso soup.

"A rather interesting package was delivered for me today," he said, stirring the soup with his chopsticks. "From Cora."

Mary blinked and looked up at him. "From Mama? Really? What was it?"

"A rather nice set of cufflinks, actually," Matthew said easily. "I don't know if it's in respect of any particular occasion, but they are quite nice. I think they may be vintage, actually."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Goodness, you're even more of a favourite than I realized," she joked.

"I can't imagine why," Matthew shrugged. "But I sent her my thanks just the same."

"Consider it a bribe," Mary smiled, picking up a spicy tuna roll with her chopsticks. "They're pleased that you're keeping me in line."

"Is that what I'm doing?" Matthew smiled at her. "I should hate to see what your rebellious side is like, then."

"Careful, you might get a glimpse sooner than you think," Mary smirked.

Matthew laughed as they continued their meal.

Crawley Construction, London, England, January 2015

"Lady Edith," the assistant called. "The supplier says the marble samples you wanted have arrived. Shall I have them sent over?"

Edith looked up from her computer screen. "No, that's all right. I could use a break. I'll go over and take a look. Please tell them to expect me in about half an hour."

"Yes, Lady Edith," the assistant nodded, turning around and going back to her desk.

Edith put on her long winter coat, hat and gloves and grabbed her phone and purse. She left the office and walked the short distance to the Range Rover parked outside. The sky was cloudy overhead but most of the snow had melted over the weekend. Edith put her purse on the passenger seat and placed her phone on its cradle on the console, starting the engine and giving the SUV time to warm up a bit. The marble supplier was a bit outside the city, but she didn't mind. The truth was that work was rather slow over the winter months, and had been slow for a while now. She was hoping things would pick up over the Spring, if only to give her something to do. Edith never cared much for the financial performance of the division. The construction arm of Crawley Group was never overly profitable even in the best of times. No matter what she did, her division would never measure up to the casinos, so she didn't even bother trying to compete. Still, with Mary's expansion of Crockfords being one of their major projects, Edith was more hands-on this time around. She normally wouldn't personally look into the marble they would use, but seeing as she knew how particular her sister could be, Edith decided to deal with this herself. God knew she would be the one to get it if the imported stone turned out to be wrong in Mary's eyes.

Edith turned out of the parking lot of Crawley Construction and began the slow crawl out of the city. She turned on an all-news radio station and listened idly as she followed traffic towards the motorway. She was too focused on the cars ahead of her to notice a silver BMW in the lane next to her, sitting back a few cars behind.

"Black Range Rover on the left," the man sitting in the passenger seat said, aiming his camera lens at the SUV and taking several photographs of the license plate. Getting a clear shot of Edith Crawley had been difficult through the tinted windows. He managed to grab a few as she sat waiting to pull out of her company parking lot. That was enough. He had plenty of photos already from their previous surveillance.

The man sitting in the backseat scribbled down the license plate number in his notepad.

"That's good. No need to follow her. We've got enough on her to know what her routine is," he declared.

The driver remained silent, checking his mirrors before turning off at the next street and leaving the Range Rover to continue on its way.

London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, January 2015

"Oh God, Mary," Matthew groaned, swallowing as he lifted his head off the pillow and watched her.

Mary massaged his thighs as she took him deeper into her mouth. She had never imagined that his body would be this fit, and it thrilled her each time they were together, as though she was privy to some secret when he was completely unveiled to her. His thighs were thick and firm, the obvious result of his cycling hobby, or cycling obsession as she liked to call it. The smooth skin was taut across his muscles, the strength and power beneath almost tangible under her fingers. She ran her tongue over him, inhaling his scent as she raised and lowered her head once again, the moans and whispers tumbling from his lips sending a shiver of desire down her spine.

"So good," Matthew babbled, entranced at the sight of her and what she was doing to him. He reached a shaky hand towards her, caressing her soft hair, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear. He stroked the nape of her neck, his fingers moving over the creamy skin of her shoulder, the arch of her back, and coming to rest on the curve of her bottom. Her skin was so warm to his touch, and it was this contact that kept him in the moment, convinced him that this was truly happening. They had made love dozens of times in the past two months, and yet every time he could barely believe it was real. The sight of her was better than any of his fantasies, but the feel of her body close to his was the only piece of reality preventing his mind from falling to pieces.

Mary hummed sultrily as she kept going, adding her hand to the task. The touch of his hand on her drove her to increase her pace, the thought of him nearing the point of total abandon spurring her on. She felt oddly liberated in pleasing him like this, knowing she was giving him something he craved for years, submitting to him, and yet having complete control of him at the same time. Their past wasn't important at times like this. Their future didn't matter. Her family. The company. Her parents' plans for them. Her own fears. None of that had any place here. They could just be together, the two of them, separated from the rest of the world, nothing to concern themselves with except delightful pleasure.

Mary dared to look up at him, knowing his eyes would be open, watching her, entirely enthralled by the vision of her going down on him. Blue-eyed Matthew. When they were younger, she never understood the fascination. Matthew had blue eyes. So what? She had seen them differently now, though, seen them bright when he was playful and teasing, seen them focused when he was leering and lustful, and seen them as they were now, wide, cloudy, gazing over her covetously, looking away from what her mouth was doing to stare longingly at her naked body.

Mary's eyes fluttered shut as she felt his hand sweeping across her ass. With the slightest nudge he gently pulled her thighs apart, and a warning flared in her mind just before he slipped a finger inside of her. She moaned around him, almost lifting her head off of him completely as he thrust in deep. His hand was steady, sliding in easily, moving faster when he found out how ready she was for him.

"Mary, darling," he grunted, moving his hips as she tightened her hold. After that first time on the private jet to Abu Dhabi, he was never content to just watch, to just receive, not at all comfortable with her serving him in any way. He had to be with her, know that he was giving her just as much as she was him. And he loved hearing her grow louder as they both got close.

He added a second finger and Mary had to release him from her mouth, continuing to stroke him with her hand as she shut her eyes and cried out. He slowed his fingers as she climaxed, soothing and rubbing her as he watched the shocks move through her. Her mussed hair, her flushed skin, her breasts moving with her gasping breath. When she opened her eyes and he saw her dilated pupils stare back at him, he pushed against her hand, his own peak seconds away.

Mary's pulse was still racing when she felt him swell in her hand. Keeping her eyes on his, she smiled wickedly and raised herself up on her elbow, arching her eyebrow as she stroked him faster.

Matthew realized her intent in the half second before her voice pushed him over the edge. Her fingers added just enough extra pressure, and his eyes bulged as she aimed him at her breasts before he yelled out in sweet release.


Mary carefully slid out of bed and retrieved her silk robe, throwing it on and tying the sash as she walked quietly from the bedroom. She looked back at Matthew's sleeping form, the duvet bunched across his legs, his bare chest rising and falling with the pleasant slumber of the deeply sated. She smiled wanly, the memory of their torrid lovemaking clear in both her mind and her sore legs.

She walked silently through the darkened living room, going over to the fridge and taking a bottle of water. She sipped it idly, wandering over to the large windows. It had been months since she'd slept in her own bed. Each night, it just seemed natural to come back here to his hotel rather than retire to Grantham House. More and more of her clothes now hung in his closets, and she'd basically taken over most of the large ensuite bathroom. She felt comfortable here, with him, despite this suite being but a temporary abode, a luxurious rental for his time in London.

She took another sip of water and looked out at the dark skies over the city, sunrise still hours away. Matthew had a way of making time stand still, she thought. It was like this the very first night they slept together, and in Abu Dhabi, and even back at Downton over Christmas. When she was with him, the world seemed to slow, and fade, and seem less important, less pressing. She was waiting for the sheen of a new relationship to dull and for the giddiness to wear off. It always did. Sometimes in the past, the high of a new man in her life was gone within days, replaced with the inevitable indifference that always seemed to set in. Now she was two months into being with Matthew and even she had to admit it still felt thrilling. It wasn't just the sex, either. It was how they got along at work, the jokes and jibes, even the many arguments they still had became fun, a back-and-forth debate that was eventually lightened by a well timed joke or insult by one of them.

Mary sighed and finished her water. She turned away from the windows and put the empty bottle down on her way back to the bedroom. She put her robe back on the chair and came back to bed. Sleeping in just her panties was a new experience as well, but like everything else in this relationship, it now seemed comfortable to her. She snuggled against Matthew's chest, smiling as he woke up just enough to put his arm around her. She let the warmth of his body and the duvet wash over her and closed her eyes. Tomorrow could wait. Tonight they were together.

Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, January 2015

Anna knocked on the the open door of Mary's office. Mary and Matthew stopped their conversation and looked up at her.

"Yes, Anna?" Mary asked.

"The marble samples just came over from Crawley Construction," Anna nodded. "They're set up in the boardroom."

"Excellent," Mary smiled. She rose from her desk and walked briskly around and out of the office. Matthew followed, nodding to Anna as he passed her and went to the boardroom after Mary.

"I don't see what's so special about one type of marble from another," Matthew shrugged as they went in. "Or how one is so much more expensive than another."

"That's because you don't pay attention to these things, but believe me, the high rollers pay attention to these types of things, to say nothing for the reviewers and bloggers who will be dying for anything to criticize about the new expansion," Mary smiled. "We only get one chance to impress everyone, so it all must be perfect down to the smallest detail."

"Which means using the most costly materials, apparently," Matthew sighed.

"Not necessarily," Mary said, arching her eyebrow. "We don't want to appear overtly ostentatious. It still needs to maintain the same elegance found throughout the rest of the casino. The expansion has to blend in with the rest of the building."

"If you say so," Matthew nodded.

Anna smiled, standing behind them.

"Well, what do you think?" Matthew asked, sweeping his arm across the different tile samples spread out across the boardroom table.

Mary looked over the different pieces, frowning more and more as she went.

"This isn't right at all," she complained. "This one isn't even marble. It's quartz. And this is granite. Why would Edith send these over? I told her exactly what I wanted."

"Maybe she sent these so you could compare against other options?" Matthew suggested.

"The comparison was supposed to be between different types of marble, not different types of materials entirely," Mary scoffed. "Anna, call Edith and..."

Mary looked over at her assistant, then stopped. She arched her eyebrow and looked back at the materials samples again before crossing her arms and turning to Matthew.

"All right, what did you do with my samples?" she demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Matthew asked in confusion.

"Edith knows better than to make such decisions on her own. She would never send over anything that I didn't specifically request. That means someone either put her up to doing this, or intercepted the real samples and replaced them with these to try and be cheeky. And since Anna would never dare play such a lame joke, that leaves you, Mr. Crawley," Mary said, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Why do you automatically assume that it was me?" Matthew asked.

"No one else is foolish enough to try me," Mary replied.

"I need to go and speak to Alex about something," Anna said quickly, barely containing her smile as she turned and left the boardroom, closing the glass door behind her.

"You little shit," Mary snarled, advancing on him.

"Now, now, darling, we're at the office," Matthew smiled, backing away from her.

"Stand your ground like a man and get what's coming to you!" Mary ordered, stalking him around the table.

Matthew pulled out his mobile and began filming her coming after him. "You know, I was hoping to get a video of you throwing the samples around the room, but this will have to do."

"Matthew Crawley, if you don't produce the proper marble in the next ten seconds, you're going to be sleeping alone for the next month!" Mary shouted, following him around the table as he kept backing away.

"Threatening me by withholding sex is so predictable, and cruel," Matthew laughed, managing to keep the distance between them. "I think I may show this video at the next company event, what do you think?"

"I think you may spend the next company event in a wheelchair after I'm done with you," Mary said.

Matthew laughed, then stopped as a timid knock and the opening of the door interrupted them.

"Lady Mary?" William asked quietly, holding an armful of marble samples. "Lady Edith just sent these over for you to look at?"

Mary glared at Matthew before composing herself and turning to William.

"Very good. Thank you, William. You can put them on the table, and take these and leave them in Mr. Crawley's office," Mary said authoritatively.

"Yes, my Lady," William nodded, replacing the samples on the table and leaving the boardroom.

"Now what am I going to do with all those inferior samples?" Matthew asked, putting his phone away and coming around to her side.

"Oh, I know exactly what you can do with them," Mary frowned at him before running her hand over one of the samples. "This is just gorgeous."

Matthew remained quiet, smiling as Mary's face lit up while she perused the different samples. She began talking animatedly about how she would use different tiles in different areas of the expansion, and explained to Matthew the difference in texture and colour between the pieces of marble. Matthew listened attentively, nodding and smiling all the while.

"She seems to be in a good mood," Anna whispered, watching from outside the boardroom's glass walls.

"Of course she is," Alex nodded. "I told you not to worry. She'll blame Matthew, not you."

"I don't know why I agreed to this whole ridiculous scheme in the first place," Anna grumbled. "It's juvenile."

"Because you know Lady Mary could use a good laugh. She's been so tense around here lately. And you have to admit, watching her chase Matthew around the table was quite the sight," Alex smiled.

Anna bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"You're a horrible influence on me, you know that?" Anna smirked at him.

"Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you," Alex winked at her, then turned around and went back to his office.

Podium Restaurant, Hilton Hotel, Park Lane, London, England, February 2015

"So are there any cute boys in your classes?" Edith asked, sipping her tea.

"It's Gender Studies, Edith," Mary chuckled. "The one boy in the entire school is probably gay."

"That's not true!" Sybil scoffed. "There's three boys, actually. None of them are cute, though."

"May as well be gay, then," Mary shrugged, sipping her tea.

"Well you had best meet someone soon, otherwise Mama will find someone for you, and that never goes well," Edith warned.

"God, I'm too busy to meet anyone," Sybil frowned, taking a cucumber sandwich from the tray. "And why should Mama care about me? Shouldn't she be focused entirely on you?"

"They've given up on me," Edith said, spreading clotted cream over a scone. "I'm destined to be a spinster and they've accepted it."

"Oh, please," Mary rolled her eyes. "What about that newspaper editor that you were seeing before Christmas? Whatever happened to him?"

"He's on assignment in Germany. I haven't heard from him in months," Edith shook her head.

"Do they not have phones or email in Germany, then?" Mary asked.

"He said he would be unreachable while he was over there," Edith shrugged.

"A man of mystery," Mary nodded. "You could use some of that."

Sybil huffed and patted Edith's hand sympathetically.

Mary's phone buzzed. She picked it up off the table and glanced at the screen.

"I need to take this," she said, getting up from the table. "Order for me, darling, won't you? You know what I like."

"All right," Sybil frowned as she watched Mary walk down the hall to the elevator lobby.

"What do you think that's all about?" Sybil asked.

"It's Mary," Edith rolled her eyes. "It probably has to do with work."

"What if it's Matthew?" Sybil smiled.

"If it was Matthew, she wouldn't have gotten up to take his call in private," Edith said.

"What if it's Matthew and they want to have a private conversation, though?" Sybil grinned.

"Oh, please," Edith rolled her eyes. "Now that she's announced that they're together, she'll want to flaunt it in front of us at every opportunity. Believe me, if it's Matthew and he's whispering sweet nothings to her over the phone, she'd put it on speaker so we all could hear it."

"What do you want?" Mary frowned, whispering into her headset as she walked out of the restaurant and towards the elevators. "I'm having tea with my sisters."

"Well, I'll make this brief then. We wouldn't want them to know that you're talking to me, would we?" Richard said.

"Get on with it," Mary grumbled.

"I was just about to tell you the same thing, my dear," Richard replied. "Unless my eyes deceive me, it appears that our friend remains very much alive. Now you can imagine my confusion at that, given our agreement."

"I haven't forgotten," Mary said, glancing around to make sure she was still alone. "These things take time and careful planning. If it was easy, then one of your hired buffoons could have accomplished it."

"How you go about it is entirely not my concern, Mary," Richard said. "I don't expect you to take care of it personally, but I want it done. I warn you, do not test my patience."

"Spare me your posturing, please," Mary rolled her eyes. "I'll decide when it happens. I can't be linked to it in any way, which makes things rather difficult seeing as so many witnesses see us together all the time."

"Again, not my concern. I don't think that you are taking this matter seriously enough," Richard retorted. "Jetting off to Abu Dhabi with your new boyfriend is not applying yourself to the task given to you."

"You had us followed," Mary shook her head incredulously.

"Of course I had you followed!" Richard growled. "I don't mind you getting close to him to carry out your mission, but do ensure you aren't enjoying yourself so much that you lose focus on what is truly important."

"You're unbelievable!" Mary hissed. "If you didn't know about…"

"Oh, but I do, don't I?" Richard interrupted. "I'll say something now I hope I won't have to repeat. If you think you can jilt me, or in some way set me aside, I tell you now, you have given me the power to destroy you, and don't think I won't use it. I want us to end this as friends, but don't ever cross me, do you understand? Never!"

"I understand," Mary said tightly.

"Good. You have until Valentine's Day," he said.

"What?" Mary frowned.

"Valentine's Day. I want you to do what you agreed to do by Valentine's Day, failing which I won't hold off a moment longer, and the consequences shall follow."

He hung up.

Mary put her phone back in her bag and slowly turned back to the restaurant. She had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment to catch her breath and steady her legs. After several deep breaths, she righted herself and walked briskly back to rejoin her sisters.

"Everything all right?" Sybil asked as Mary sat back down.

"Perfect," Mary smiled, picking up the cream and pouring it into her tea. "I've arranged a surprise for Matthew and I was just dealing with some of the details."

"That's rather romantic," Edith teased. "Let's hope that he finds it memorable."

"Oh, he will," Mary nodded, bringing the tea cup to her lips. "I dare say it will be the shock of his life."

Edith and Sybil smiled at each other knowingly.

Mary sipped her tea, turning her head and looking out the large windows, her pulse racing beneath her calm façade.

"Now that's a pity," Edith complained, glancing out the window. "The rain's gotten worse."

Mary remained quiet.