Previously:

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

"Mine," she arched her eyebrow before taking him into her mouth.

He let out a long cry, shutting his eyes and curling his hands into fists as she moved on him, her fingers and mouth putting relentless pressure on him. There was no drama, no dilemmas, no crises. There was only him, and her, and bliss.

It was not long before his hips were thrusting up towards her, his control long since broken. The warmth of her mouth and her mewls of encouragement driving him on. He held his hands at his sides, all the energy he had left devoted to not seizing her hair and forcing her. He opened his eyes and watched, the sight of her taking him in hurtling him towards the edge.

She gave him a light squeeze and lifted off of him, licking her lips. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair dishevelled. He almost lost it seeing how she looked and realizing he had caused it.

"Sorry, darling," she grinned. "I got a bit carried away."

"That…that's all right," he stammered. "It's probably best that you stopped when you did."

"Oh, I don't think so," she smiled, moving up his body and straddling his stomach. She leaned down and kissed his cheek. "I have plans for you tonight. Watch me."

She kept her eyes on him as she reached between them again and took hold of him. She eased herself back, her eyelids fluttering as she felt him slide inside of her.

"God, Mary," he sighed, his hands coming up to steady her hips.

They moved together, slowly at first, then faster as they raced to finish together. His hands moved from her hips to her rear, holding her in place as he thrust into her. She met each of his strokes with one of her own, leaning down and framing his face, kissing him over and over, matching each of his cries with one of her own.

She was being wanton and quite unladylike, but she felt safe all the same, and unashamed. This wasn't proper, or neat, or the right thing given what they faced and all that was happening around them. Some small part of her expected him to give her a lecture in the morning. But he was with her now, fully and completely, giving her what she wanted, allowing her to give him what he needed, even if neither of them wanted to admit it openly.

Mary rose and arched her back as she released, grinding down on him to prolong her pleasure.

Matthew watched her spend, her skin flushed, her eyes closed, her mouth open as she moaned. She was his lover, and his love, the woman he literally dreamed about. The mature thing to do would have been to deny her, to deny his own urges. They needed to talk, to plan, most of all to rest. These past days had been exhausting and draining, everything they knew had been obliterated, leaving behind a crater of uncertainty that neither of them knew how to navigate out of. But they were here, together, and how could he deny them this? Watching her go over once again, he thrust a final time and released, sitting up and holding on to her, burying his face against her skin, taking in her scent and her touch as he let go.

They held on to each other in the dark, each of them reaching for breath, waiting for their heartbeats to calm.

"Sleep?" she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

"Not yet," he sighed against her breast.

"Good," she smiled, holding on to him as he turned them over and brought her down to the bed.

Chapter 25:

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

Mary typed away on her laptop, the glow from the screen the only light in the darkened living room. Outside, all was quiet and calm, dawn still hours away. She arched her eyebrow as she worked, searching through the Crawley Group databases and servers, part of her not wanting to discover any other evidence against her father, but unable to look away. Information and details that she considered normal and innocuous before now seemed anything but. Emails, travel itineraries, bank account deposits and withdrawals, invoices and payments, all approved by or relating to Robert Crawley. Were they simply the daily minutiae of a President running a profitable corporation, an Earl presiding over his family? Or was there a more nefarious purpose to them, an ulterior motive that she was never meant to see?

Mary's memory recalled meetings that she would be present for with him, deliveries that she made on his behalf, even parties where she observed him laughing and joking with a group of his mates. Even family dinner conversations morphed into something different for her now.

'Old Branksome's a dull dog, but his family's rich and he's done a decent job of maintaining the fortune. Getting him to focus on anything but the races is a challenge, though.'

'I hear of schemes every day that'll double whatever's put into them or triple it or more. Now Henry Stoke has gone in with a bundle…'

'Mary, you'll be in Chelsea tomorrow. Drop off this letter for me. It's just some business I need to deal with.'

"I thought you weren't going back to being Lady Mary Crawley for a few hours yet," Matthew mumbled, kissing her cheek as he sat down next to her, his arms wrapping around her waist.

"I'm always Lady Mary Crawley, darling," she sighed, shaking her head and scrolling down the laptop screen. "I just like being your version and no one else's from time to time."

"Was that what it was all about then?" he teased, nuzzling her neck. "You used me to clear your head and now you're back to work?"

"If I wanted to use you, I would have made you service me, then left you high and dry," she retorted, giving him a knowing smile. "And we both know that I let you do much, much more than that."

"Very well," he chuckled against her shoulder. "But why can't you leave this alone at least until morning?"

"I can't, Matthew," she sighed, leaving the laptop and leaning back against him tiredly. "Yesterday I found a series of transactions back in 2005 that may correspond to Papa taking the profits from the oil futures contracts and investing them back into Crawley Group, to say nothing for a number of large withdrawals that he authorized that may have funded the purchase of the contracts in the first place."

"All that proves is that he made those investments," he said. "I'm not entirely put out by that fact alone. The company makes money off numerous questionable activities, although there's clearly a glaring difference between Robert being told to invest at a specific time and having advance knowledge of the bombings."

"Yes, there is," she nodded. "A very glaring difference. In one instance, it's business as usual. In the other, he may be wilfully profiting from terrorism."

"What I don't understand is his almost desperate need to make a big score," he frowned. "It's almost like the way Patrick used to risk so much chasing after a windfall. The company's had steady growth for years, all expenses are being covered, why did he need to go so far outside his usual strategy?"

"I can answer that one – because of his ego," she said bitterly. "Even back in 2005, Papa was having less and less to do with the running of the company. He didn't visit the casinos every day, the construction company has followed the same business model for years, and the tenants and Village businesses don't require constant review. Back then, he didn't know what a horrible businessman Patrick would end up being, but I suspected that he had a succession plan in place already. Edith would take over the construction business, and Patrick and I would have London. Under those circumstances, he would eventually fade into the background."

"And he wanted a legacy," he said.

"Yes," she nodded. "Or more accurately, he wanted to maintain control. He didn't want to hand over the reins without his fingerprints being all over our success. Looking at it now, it was probably his goal to be more than just a figurehead, to have more authority than even Granny, staying at Downton, but being constantly consulted and updated, so he could claim all the glory while the rest of us do the work."

"Shit," he sighed. "Why must it matter who gets the credit?"

"It's precisely that attitude that I'm sure enrages Papa, just as it annoyed me," she smiled, turning and kissing him quickly. "You don't actively seek out the credit, but in the end, you make it impossible for the rest of us not to acknowledge your contributions. You're quite devious, actually."

"Devious?" he scoffed. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she said pointedly, her hand running across his bare chest. "Don't pull your fucking gallant Matthew Crawley act with me. It won't work. You've got an agenda, just like the rest of us."

He smiled and kissed her softly. "Is that so? Well why don't you enlighten me, so we both are fully informed as to my intentions?"

"All right," she smiled, moving in his lap and straddling him. She put her arms across his shoulders, smiling at him, the glow from her laptop screen lighting their faces. "I don't think you want control of the company, ultimately. You'd rather run your own operation, but you're certainly not against coming in and helping out, so that my family knows it was you who fixed everything."

"And why would I want to do that?" he smirked.

"To give you leverage in negotiating with Papa in the future, perhaps," she mused. "It must grate on you that you still need to pay tribute to us when you've built your empire all on your own."

"That's not an entirely ridiculous theory," he smiled.

"And there's probably some sense of duty to it, as well," she said lightly. "After all, darling, you're the one who's been part of our world almost as long as I have. You can't just walk away from all of that so easily."

"No," he said, his hands coming up and rubbing her bare arms. "No, I most certainly cannot."

She leaned forward and kissed him. His hands moved from her arms to her sides, then to her hips. He groaned into her mouth as she rubbed against him deliberately.

"Mary," he said once she pulled back. "All of this business with your papa, all that we've uncovered, I know it's come as a great shock. It's thrown me off quite thoroughly, I can only imagine what it must be doing to you."

She looked down, nodding slightly.

"But, darling, it doesn't change who you are," he said firmly, drawing her attention back to him. "What you do each and every day in running your division, it has nothing to do with Robert, or Violet, or me, or anyone."

She smiled at him. "Goodness, what a testimonial. I suppose you could be just saying that because you want to have your way with me again."

"Maybe," he shot back. "But it doesn't matter, does it? If what we've uncovered about Robert is true, then the company may be at risk. And you won't let Crawley Group fall, will you?"

"No," she said immediately, her eyes flashing. "Absolutely not."

He smiled and kissed her again. "I'll let you get back to work."

"Is that so?" she arched her eyebrow, grinding her hips against him. "You're off to sleep, are you?"

He swallowed nervously, his body responding to hers. "I've already asked too much of you tonight," he whispered. "We really shouldn't have done all that."

"Mmm, yes, I suppose we shouldn't have," she nodded. "It would have been more appropriate if I spent the night weeping while you brooded until we fell into a restless sleep."

"Something like that, yes," he said shakily as she continued to move against him. "That would have been the mature thing to do."

"Yes, yes, quite," she agreed. "Taking you back to bed now and getting you off would be highly irresponsible in light of all that we should be doing at 3 in the morning."

He gasped in surprise. "Exactly. That would be taking advantage of you."

"A complete dereliction of your duties as Managing Director," she said formally. "It would be an abuse of your power to put the Vice-President, Operations on her hands and knees and fuck her senseless."

He grunted loudly. "Extremely so, not to mention…vulgar and…unprofessional."

"Well, we have five hours before we need to get up and resume our investigation," she declared, leaning over to lick his ear. "I'm going to bed. I'll leave it up to you to decide how exactly we're going to spend that time. I must say though, that I'm feeling in the mood to be rather…vulgar…and loud."

He almost whinged as she gracefully got up off of him and walked into the bedroom, her hips swaying suggestively.

He slammed the laptop shut and ran after her, her squeal of laughter ringing out as he grabbed her by the hips from behind, lifted her off the floor and carried her to bed.

Fera at Claridge's Restaurant, Claridge's Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, June 2015

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Violet asked, frowning down at her plate.

"It's a grilled salad, smoked over embers to infuse flavour," Alex said, smiling at Anna as he explained the unconventional creation that had just been served to the Dowager Countess.

"A grilled salad? One would think that grilling a salad would defeat the purpose of making one in the first place," she said in a clipped tone, poking at the lettuce leaves with her fork as though she were testing a dead corpse.

"Try it. You'll like it," he said.

"Anna," Violet said. "What do you think of this molecular gastronomy abomination?"

"Well, it's not the type of thing that I would have eaten, if I'm honest," Anna said carefully, glancing over at Alex, who nodded to her encouragingly. "But, I've tried a number of different restaurants since I've met Alex and they've all been quite good, actually. I'm finding that some of the dishes that I normally wouldn't have touched are very delicious, rather."

"See?" Alex said triumphantly.

"Anna, you do know that you are under no obligation to agree with him, on anything," Violet said, waving her hand dismissively in Alex's direction. "Feeding a man's ego will do you no good, I assure you."

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded, smiling at Alex.

Violet gingerly took a bite of the grilled salad, and another after that.

"My, well that isn't so bad, is it?" she stated.

"No, no it's not," he laughed.

"Well, the starter is acceptable, but I shall reserve judgment on the rest of the menu," she said haughtily.

"I would expect nothing less," he replied.

"Now, Anna," she continued as they all ate their salad. "Mary mentioned to me yesterday that you haven't taken a proper vacation in years. Is that true?"

"Er, well, I took a few days off at the end of last year," Anna said.

"And what did you do?" Violet asked.

"Oh, I ran some errands and went out around the City," Anna mumbled. "It was a nice break."

"I'm sure that it was," Violet chuckled. "Well, after our Season party in August, I want you to take some proper time off. I've already discussed it with Mary and she is in full agreement. You deserve to take a real vacation."

"Thank you, Lady Grantham," Anna blushed.

"Anna's been looking into a trip for the both of us," Alex smiled.

"And why should you be permitted to go along?" Violet asked, eyeing him curiously. "The purpose of a vacation is to relax, isn't it?"

"Yes, well, erm, yes," Alex blinked.

"And you think that your presence will make it a relaxing time, do you? I have my doubts," Violet huffed. "What about that time I took you with me to Rome? You were insufferable."

Anna had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing too much.

"I told you it was a bad idea to have dinner with Lady Grantham," Alex said to Anna, rolling his eyes.

"You are more than welcome to leave, if you wish," Violet said. "Anna and I are perfectly capable of enjoying ourselves without you, aren't we, Anna?"

"Yes, Milady," Anna nodded, smiling at Alex's petulant expression.

"Now, are you going to behave?" Violet asked him.

"Yes, Lady Grantham," Alex said in exasperation.

"Good. Now, Anna, where were you thinking of going? As it will be August, you need to be careful. It can be terribly hot in some places," Violet advised.

Alex took a sip of water, smiling to himself as Violet and Anna carried on an animated conversation about possible vacation destinations.

Centre Court, Wimbledon Tennis Championships, All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club, Wimbledon, London, England, July 2015

Mary held Matthew's hand as they walked down the aisle and took their boxed seats. She kept her dark sunglasses on, focusing on the players warming up on the court, not looking anywhere else.

"I'm right here," he whispered to her, their joined hands resting on her lap. "We'll get through this together."

"This is a nightmare," she hissed. "Inviting Sir Richard and Cyril Hightower to our Season party? What is he playing at? What could he possibly be thinking?"

"We'll figure it out," he said. "Let's just put it aside for now."

Mary shook her head. They were meeting her sisters and Matthew's mother to watch today's matches. She and Matthew had come straight from the office, with Edith driving Sybil and Isobel over. Thankfully Mary's parents weren't attending. She had been able to avoid them so far since they came up to London this week, but they were due to have dinner in a few days' time, and she was dreading it.

In the weeks since she and Matthew had investigated her father's business dealings in 2005, they had not uncovered much else. Robert Crawley preferred to use the phone, rather than email and text, so written records of his communications were difficult to find. Mary considered going to Murray or one of her father's bankers to find out what they knew, but that was too dangerous. She had no legitimate excuse to look into her father's personal investments dating back to a time when she was still in school.

Beyond those difficulties, Mary did not have time to dig as deep as she wanted into her father's past. The Season was a busy time for the casinos, with numerous groups coming in for special events, high rollers and whales flying in and demanding her time, and the ongoing expansion to oversee, Mary's plate was already full, and Matthew was just as occupied with his division. They didn't have the luxury of spending hours mucking about reviewing bank records and emails. Not wanting to involve anyone else prevented them from using Anna, Alex, or anyone else to assist them.

Mary took a deep breath and smiled at Matthew reassuringly, keeping his hand in hers as she looked back out to the tennis court. The past month hadn't been all bad. Summer meant charity galas and special appearances. Despite the potential turmoil regarding her family, Mary enjoyed attending these events with Matthew, the two of them dressed immaculately and posing for photographs on the red carpets. It was strange how life had turned for her recently. Months ago, business was good and she was concerned about her relationship with Matthew. Now, her family and career were possibly in crisis, but she never felt better about being Matthew's girlfriend.

"You're smiling," he said, looking at her from behind his own sunglasses. "Good."

"I was just thinking about the Children's Hospital gala last week," she said, keeping her eyes looking forward.

"Ah," he said, his cheeks blushing slightly. "It was a lovely event, wasn't it?"

"For a very worthy cause," she replied easily. "I always enjoy going back to Claridge's. It really is a beautiful space they have there."

"Yes, it is," he said, coughing slightly.

"They truly think of everything when they plan those events," she continued. "Having a private washroom for the gala only was genius."

"I agree," he struggled, coughing again. "Privacy is…important."

She leaned over to whisper to him, her eyes still on the court. "You never did give me back my panties."

His cheeks blushed red. "No," he muttered. "No, I didn't."

She smiled at his discomfort. Adorable Matthew. So seemingly innocent and conservative in public and anything but when they were alone. It had been his idea to tease her while they had drinks at the beginning of the gala, and when she dared to challenge him to back up his words with action, he'd pulled her into one of the washrooms and locked the door. It was wildly inappropriate, and they both ended up bidding a great deal of money during the silent auction to try and make amends.

There had been several such nights lately, where they left the office behind and just acted spontaneously, doing whatever came to mind, enjoying themselves in the moment before the morning came and the weight of responsibility and reality shackled them again. Mary found she enjoyed their evenings together immensely, be it touring a museum during extended hours, eating fish and chips along the Thames or having wild sex pressed against the window of his hotel suite. The evenings were their respite, and these days such moments were keeping them both sane.

Sybil had emailed her the guest list for the family Season party at Grantham House just a few hours ago. Mary had seen it before when discussing the event with Mama. She was shocked to find out that her Papa had added Sir Richard and Cyril Hightower to the guest list at the last moment, and she had told Matthew the moment they were in his car on their way to Wimbledon.

"Mary! Matthew!" Edith called as she came into the box with Sybil and Isobel behind her.

"Edith," Mary replied, standing up and kissing her sister on both cheeks before greeting Sybil and Isobel. Edith and Sybil sat on Mary's right, while Isobel took a seat on Matthew's left.

"How are you, Mother?" Matthew asked.

"Splendid, thank you!" Isobel smiled. "I'd forgotten how lovely the grounds are here."

Matthew pointed out certain landmarks to his mother, including the Royal Box, the players' coaches and girlfriends sitting in their private boxes, and the retractable roof that was currently in the open position with the bright sun shining down on them.

"Papa mentioned you haven't called in a while," Sybil said idly.

"I've been busy," Mary replied. "I texted him yesterday and sent him a report by email. It's easier for me to deal with him that way than set aside time for a call."

"Yes, that's true, but then he and Mama call us and ask what's going on," Edith smiled.

"And what do you tell them?" Mary asked.

"What we always do, that you and Matthew are busy out looking at wedding venues together. That always shuts them up," Edith teased.

Mary's eyebrows shot up. She glanced to her left to make sure that Matthew was still talking to Isobel, then turned back and glared at her sisters, the sunglasses doing nothing to mask her obvious displeasure.

"Don't joke about it!" Mary said under her breath.

"It's 2015, you know," Sybil said quietly. "You're a modern woman. You can always propose to him."

Edith giggled.

"Shut up," Mary frowned. "Wait a minute. Has he said anything to you?"

"To me? No! Why would he?" Sybil frowned.

"Because the two of you are practically brother and sister, the way you hang around each other all the time," Mary said.

"We don't spend that much time together," Sybil complained. "We haven't had lunch in ages because he's been so busy."

"But you still text," Mary noted. "Sybil, if you're keeping secrets from me, God help you…"

"I'm not! I'm not!" Sybil laughed. "Darling, come on. You know my loyalty is to you."

"It better be," Mary warned. "Don't say anything Sybil, I mean it. I don't want there to be any pressure on him."

"But you're not against the idea," Edith remarked.

Mary swallowed and looked back at the court.

"Interesting," Sybil teased.

"Anyway, we got you a few more days free of them, but we can't get you out of dinner," Edith said.

"No, of course not," Mary sighed. "I'll be seeing plenty of them for the next month. It's just that we have a lot going on at work, and events and such on top of that."

"Oh, I forgot to show you this," Sybil said, taking out her mobile. "That photo of you and Matthew from that Pride in London gala went viral on Instagram."

Mary looked at her sister's phone screen and smiled. The photo of them was quite good, with Matthew wearing Armani black tie and she in a white backless gown from Prada.

"That's quite good, isn't it?" Edith smiled.

"Yeah," Mary nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Following the end of the match, Mary brought them downstairs near the player's lounge so that Isobel could get an autograph or two. Many of the players were regular visitors to Crockfords during tournament time and it was easy for her to get access. As Matthew and Isobel made small talk with Roger Federer, Mary stood off to the side and checked her phone.

"Mary," a voice called.

"Tony," she said, looking up and giving him a polite smile. She turned her head and accepted his kiss to her cheek.

"I thought I saw you and your sisters earlier," Tony smiled. "It was a fun set of matches today. Murray looks in fine form."

"He does," she agreed. "I think I'm favouring Djokovic. For me, he's looking better than last year when he won."

"I can't disagree with that," he smiled. "I suppose Matthew probably has some money down on the outcome, doesn't he?"

"Perhaps," she smiled, glancing over her shoulder at Matthew and Isobel laughing with Roger. "He was rather angry when Nadal lost last week. I don't know if he's recovered sufficiently to think about who else he wants to win."

"I see," he nodded, following her gaze, then patiently waiting for her to look back at him.

"I trust we'll be seeing you and Mabel at Grantham House in August?" she asked, searching for a conversation topic.

"Of course," he nodded. "You'll see me sooner than that, but we'll be at your family party also. I usually see a few faces that I haven't talked to in a while so it's great fun."

"Well, there may be a few unwelcome faces this year," she rolled her eyes. "Apparently Papa has invited Sir Richard Carlisle."

"Carlisle is going to be there?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes," she nodded. "Though I can't understand why. He isn't exactly a friend of the family."

"No, I would have thought he wasn't," he frowned. "Well, don't worry. I'll protect you from him."

She gave him a polite smile, then glanced over at Matthew again.

"Well, I should be going. I'll see you at Crockfords tomorrow night," he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Good day, Mary."

"Tony," she smiled.

She turned away and went back to Matthew and Isobel.

"Darling, we should let Roger go," Mary smiled, giving Roger an apologetic look. "He probably has many commitments he needs to get to."

"Of course," Matthew agreed. "Mother, let's get going."

They all thanked Roger for his time and said goodbye. Mary took Matthew's arm and walked with him and Isobel out of the building and towards his car.

Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, July 2015

"Granny was rather impressed with you," Mary smiled.

"She was?" Anna blinked. "Oh, well, we had a pleasant dinner."

"Apparently so," Mary shrugged, arching her eyebrow at her assistant. "She isn't usually so effusive with her compliments. You must have done well."

"I hope so," Anna nodded. "Alex thinks very highly of her. I wasn't actually aware that they were close."

"I don't think any of us were," Mary said. "Matthew told me that they had some history, but she's never mentioned him."

"Well, I just hope that I passed the test," Anna sighed. "There's enough poking and prodding during the Season as it is with the paparazzi always around here and every woman who comes through dressed to the nines. The appraisal of Lady Grantham is the last thing I need."

"You've passed with flying colours, I think," Mary smiled. "Have you thought any further about where you want to go?"

"France, I think," Anna replied. "We'll start in Paris, then head down to the Loire. Alex has never been, but his French is better than mine."

"It'll be hot there in August," Mary smiled. "Dress accordingly. Perhaps you'll have to spend a day by the water."

"Oh, I could never go to one of those topless beaches," Anna blushed. "I'd be mortified."

"Well, then you had better tell Alex that so he doesn't get his expectations up," Mary joked. "Though I suppose you can always make it up to him in other ways."

"God, don't even!" Anna shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Anna," Mary laughed. "It's just such a refreshing change to tease you about your boyfriend, rather than regale you with some disastrous tale about one of mine."

"There haven't been any disasters with Mr. Crawley, though, has there?" Anna smiled.

"No, no there's hasn't," Mary grinned.

"It's far more posh than I remember it," Rose noted as they walked the casino floor. "And the staff. Where did you find them? I didn't know there were this many good looking people in London!"

"It's all Mary. Crockfords is her baby," Matthew smiled. "I still can't believe you're here."

"I can't believe I'm here," she shook her head. "I made the mistake of announcing my return on Twitter and people have been coming out of the woodwork wanting to meet up. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"An impossible task, if ever there was one," he smiled.

"You can fuck right off," she said, taking his arm. "If it wasn't for Sybil, I'd have gone back to Vietnam a week ago. I can't believe I have to put up with all of this for three more weeks."

"Well, you do," he said. "Any idea why Robert invited you back here?"

"Not a clue," she said. "He's barely said two words to me since I arrived. Cousin Cora's made more of an effort, at breakfast mainly. I assume it's because he's going to be making some big show at the party."

"Possibly. He's invited Sir Richard Carlisle to attend," he muttered.

"What? Why?" she frowned. "I know Lord Grantham doesn't know about…well…about what you know about Sir Richard, but still, he has no reason to want him there."

"I couldn't tell you," he sighed. "And I can't ask him about it without raising his suspicions. As far as he knows, we're all cordial with each other, as always."

"I'll do some digging, though I can't expect to get very far. It isn't as though Cousin Robert is going to take me into his confidence," she said. "But, he does have an Ultrabook that he travels with. That should be easy enough to get into. I just need to wait for him to leave it behind when he goes out to one of his meetings, or parties, or dinners, or whatever."

"If you can do that…discretely…see if you get his personal financials. He's been making some curious investment and spending decisions lately, and I'd like to know why," he said quietly, glancing around the casino floor.

"I can tell you why, Cousin Robert is rubbish at investing, that's why," Rose shrugged. "Mummy and Daddy would joke about it from time to time, back when they were on speaking terms, anyway."

"Yes, I've heard as much myself, but I'd like some actual proof of it," he said. "I don't confront people based on hearsay."

Rose frowned at him.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Rumours...information that cannot be substantiated, such as relying on a witness for the truth of what someone else said…hearsay," he explained, waving his hand.

"Ah…rumours," she nodded. "You should have just said that rather than using your fancy legal words."

"Just be careful," he warned. "On the odd chance that he genuinely does want to mend fences, I wouldn't want you to ruin all that by being caught snooping around."

"As though I would be caught," Rose said smugly. "Now, where's Mary and Sybil? I want to go play!"

"Sybil and Edith are on the way. Mary's upstairs working. We're meeting everyone in the High Limit Room in 20 minutes," he said, glancing at the clock on his mobile.

"Just enough time for you to buy me a drink, then!" she smiled.

"All right," he sighed. "If I don't, you'll just wave a server over anyway."

"Exactly!" she smirked, pulling him towards the closest bar.

Espelette Restaurant, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, July 2015

"Good afternoon, sir," the valet nodded, tipping his cap as he opened the car door for Matthew. "Welcome to The Connaught."

"I'll be out shortly," Matthew said, handing the valet the car remote. "I'm just dropping her off for afternoon tea."

"Very good, sir," the valet said, handing Matthew a claim ticket. "I'll have it waiting out here for you, sir."

Matthew walked around the car and stepped on to the kerb, taking Mary's hand and nodding to the doorman as they walked into the hotel.

"Now why can't I stay, again?" he asked as they crossed the luxuriously decorated lobby.

"It's ladies only," she smiled, arching her eyebrow at him. "No boys allowed."

"That's sexist, not to mention archaic," he frowned.

"Then come through and make your complaint to Granny," she challenged.

"No thanks," he sighed.

"Don't make those sad eyes at me, it won't work," she said, arching her eyebrow at him. "Besides, if I wasn't having tea, then I'd be back at the office. It's not as though I'd have time for you, regardless."

"Yes, but if we were back at the office, we could take breaks," he smirked.

"Why don't you go and book us a suite and we can take a break before we go back to work?" she suggested playfully.

Matthew blinked, processing her words. "Now that's just cruel. I know you're just teasing."

"You know nothing of the sort," she smiled saucily. "Get us a suite, leave the key for me at the front desk and I promise I'll come upstairs the moment I'm done."

He eyed her suspiciously. "An afternoon dalliance? I don't believe it."

"Fine, be that way," she shrugged. "If you don't get us the suite, then you'll never know just how far I would have gone, will you?"

He frowned as they reached the restaurant.

"How much time are we talking about, here?" he asked.

Mary thought for a moment. "I'll give you an hour," she said finally. "One hour from the moment I walk through the door, and you get to make the rules."

He gulped as his eyes went wide.

"Still think I'm bluffing?" she smirked.

"Ah, there you are! Mary! Matthew!" a voice called.

Mary blinked and turned away from Matthew.

"Papa," she said, smiling nervously and squeezing Matthew's hand. "What are you doing here?"

"I came over with your Mama," Robert smiled, kissing Mary on both cheeks and shaking Matthew's hand. "Don't worry, I won't be intruding on your Ladies' Tea. I just thought I would have a drink with Matthew while we wait."

"Ah," Matthew said cautiously.

"I think Matthew's going back to the office, Papa," Mary said.

"Nonsense!" Robert smiled, looking at Matthew. "You have time for a quick drink, don't you, my boy? Don't force me to order you to do so. I am the President, you know."

Matthew laughed politely and looked at Mary knowingly.

"Of course," he nodded, turning and kissing Mary's cheek. "Enjoy yourself, darling."

"You too," Mary said, looking at her father, then turning and going into the restaurant.

"Shall we?" Robert said, putting his hand on Matthew's shoulder and motioning to the bar.

"Lead on," Matthew said with false enthusiasm.

Matthew took a sip of his Coke, eyeing the Earl warily. It wasn't unusual for Robert to suggest they have a drink. They usually took drinks together after dinner, and had done so just a few nights ago at Grantham House. Mary and Matthew had done an admirable job of acting normal around the Earl, but Matthew could tell she was slightly uncomfortable being around him. For his part, Matthew didn't know what to think. Though he and Robert had never been overly close, he did have a lot of respect for the man. Growing up, Robert Crawley was synonymous with Crawley Group, the most successful businessman that Matthew knew, a true mogul, the head of an empire. Over the years, Matthew learned that Robert was the beneficiary of the work of his predecessors, and not necessarily the all-knowing entrepreneurial genius that he made himself out to be. It was a far leap from the man Matthew thought he knew to an alleged terrorism profiteer though.

"Matthew, I have a rather serious subject to discuss with you," the Earl said, putting his glass of brandy down.

"Oh?" Matthew replied, cringing slightly at his less than eloquent reply. "Regarding what?"

"Well, it's been eleven months that you've been with us, more or less," Robert said. "And nearly that long that you and Mary have been…involved."

"Yes?" Matthew agreed, wondering where this was going.

"I feel it is my obligation, both as President of the company, and as Mary's father, to inquire as to what your intentions are," Robert said, watching him carefully.

"My intentions?" Matthew repeated.

"Yes," Robert nodded. "You told me a few weeks ago that you intended to stay for the long term. You also said that you and Mary were quite happy together. You can appreciate that Cora and I are…curious…as to what your intentions are towards our daughter."

"Curious…" Matthew said.

"Yes, curious," Robert nodded. "Now, Cora is far more anxious than I am. I can appreciate that a man of your age, and position, is perfectly happy to live each day as it comes. Cora, on the other hand, would like to see Mary settled, sooner rather than later. I'm sure you can understand that."

"I can, yes," Matthew said.

"Mary is young, of course, but remember that when Cora was Mary's age, she was already married and was expecting with Edith, our second child. Now, Mary has obviously been far more career oriented, but as a result, Cora is more nervous about her future. She doesn't want her to wait too long to get started on a family," Robert explained.

"I see," Matthew nodded.

"Now, if you were someone that Mary had just met, I certainly could appreciate that you would need more time to get to know one another better, to judge if you are truly compatible for the long term. But, honestly, Matthew, you and Mary have known each other since you were children. There are no secrets here, are there?" Robert smiled.

"Not between the two of us, no," Matthew said.

"Precisely," Robert nodded. "So, you can understand that Cora wonders what reason you might have to…wait…to make a more serious commitment to Mary. I've managed to hold her off for you, but you know how the Season is. Everyone has a big announcement of some kind, or a wedding to invite us to and such. It makes Cora more nervous."

"Well, I wouldn't want the family to be concerned," Matthew offered.

"No, of course you wouldn't," Robert smiled. "And truly, Matthew, I think you can help Mary to settle down a little bit."

"Settle down?" Matthew questioned.

"Yes," Robert said. "She's done well for herself in the company, but it's time she focused on what's truly important for her – a husband, a family, managing a household of her own. She can't run the casinos for the rest of her life, you understand?"

"I think Mary would say she's perfectly capable of filling numerous roles, just as you have," Matthew noted.

"It's not the same, Matthew," Robert scoffed. "With Cora at home dealing with the girls, I was able to focus my efforts on the company. Each of us knew our role and carried out our duties faithfully. Now, in today's more modern times, I appreciate that you young people have different views on what you expect from life. But, take it from me, Matthew, there are still some universal truths that remain."

"Such as a mother should concern herself with raising her children?" Matthew said.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Robert said. "Both you and Mary are in a privileged position, keep in mind. You both have career flexibility, thanks to me and to the company. You can each step back and devote yourself to each other and to starting a family without reservation or distraction. With me as President, the company will not suffer from your absences, and when the time is right, you can resume your duties, and Mary can return in a limited role."

"I don't envy the person who will have to tell Mary what is in store for her," Matthew shook his head, taking another sip.

"Don't worry about that," Robert said. "Cora will ensure that Mary is well aware of what is expected of her. She always does."

Matthew nodded, staring at his drink thoughtfully, his mind in a state of disbelief.

"Well, then. We understand each other, don't we?" Robert smiled.

"Yes, I believe that we do," Matthew said, picking up his drink again.

"Good," Robert said, taking a sip of brandy. "Because you know, Matthew, if Cora doesn't feel as though there is progress being made in that regard, she'll take measures of her own."

"Such as?" Matthew frowned, holding his drink suspended near his lips.

"Well, Mary has never lacked for suitors, Matthew, you know that well enough," Robert said lightly. "If she believes that you aren't moving your relationship forward appropriately, then she will consider encouraging someone else to approach Mary."

"I would be interested to see how she would try that," Matthew said, his eyes narrowing.

"It's an unfortunate business, I admit," Robert said sympathetically. "That's why I try to stay out of such matters. The girls and who they ought to be matched with are Cora's domain, not mine. However, I think it's safe to say that Mary's loyalty is to her family, above all. That's how she was raised, and she's always done her duty. I would be very sad to see you go, Matthew, but if Cora pushes for it, Mary will move on to a man who is more willing to pledge himself to her."

"I see," Matthew said, taking a drink and gritting his teeth as he swallowed.

"Good," Robert smiled. "I must say I'm ever so pleased that we can speak so openly and honestly with each other, Matthew."

"Likewise, Robert," Matthew said, setting his glass down and rising from the bar. "If you'll excuse me, I just need to go check in with the office on a few matters."

"Of course," Robert nodded, shaking Matthew's hand. "We'll see you tomorrow night at Lord and Lady Sinderby's party, yes?"

"Certainly," Matthew nodded, turning and walking briskly from the bar. Robert went back to his drink, not bothering to watch as Matthew strode deliberately to the front desk.

"Yes, sir, how may I help you?" the front desk clerk said brightly as Matthew approached.

"What signature suites do you have available at the moment?" he demanded, taking out his credit card and driver's license and slapping them down on the counter.

"Erm, we're rather full at the moment, sir, and most of the suites are being made up," she said. "If you wanted to wait for this evening, then I'm sure that some more would become…"

"What's available right now?" he asked firmly.

"Well, erm, the Terrace Suite is available, sir," the clerk said crisply. "It has two bedrooms, designed by Guy Oliver and features the largest terrace in Mayfair. There's a private elevator for you which…"

"I'll take it," he interjected. "Until tomorrow."

"Very good sir, that will be five thousand pounds with taxes and service…" she said.

"Fine," he said, waving his hand.

"Yes, sir," she nodded, swallowing nervously as she processed the payment on Matthew's credit card. "And how many keys will you be requiring?"

"Two," he said curtly. "I'll leave one here for my guest to pick up."

"Of course, sir," the clerk said, discreetly placing a small envelope on the counter.

Matthew scrawled Mary's name on the envelope and returned it to the clerk. He took back his black card, driver's license and his room key.

"The elevator is across the lobby, sir," the clerk said, pointing in the direction of the elevator. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you," Matthew nodded, turning and walking quickly to the elevator, a scowl across his face. Reaching the elevator, he stepped inside and waved his key card across the scanner. As the elevator doors closed, he took out his mobile and sent a text message.

"Lord Sinderby is quite eager to host everyone," Violet nodded.

"Lady Sinderby has a new painting that she wishes to show off, from what I've heard," Cora smiled. "And the ballroom has been renovated, so I'm sure we'll be spending most of our time in there."

"Who's catering the party?" Edith asked, sipping her tea.

"Ampersand," Cora nodded. "I quite like them."

"Won't Atticus be there?" Sybil asked, smiling at Rose.

Rose rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sure, actually," Cora said. "I didn't bother to ask if he came back or not."

"Oh, I expect he will be," Violet said. "He wasn't planning to, but then he ended up changing his mind and booking a flight rather suddenly."

"How curious," Sybil said, smiling at Rose knowingly.

Rose sighed audibly, and took another sip of tea.

Mary smiled at her cousin, then blinked as she felt her phone vibrate in her purse. She took it out and looked at it quickly, her eyebrow arching as she read Matthew's message.

"Well, thank you all," she said, standing up and going over to kiss her Mama and Granny. "I'm afraid that I haven't any more time to spare."

"You work far too hard, Mary," Cora shook her head.

"Well the company won't run itself, Mama," Mary retorted, squeezing Sybil's hand as she rounded the table. "I'll see all of you tomorrow."

They all said their goodbyes and Mary walked quickly out of the restaurant, heading over to the front desk and retrieving the key that Matthew had left for her. She made her way to the private elevator, swiping her key card and looking nervously up at the numbers as the lift rose swiftly to the suite where Matthew was waiting for her.