I'm back! I missed you all, I hope you enjoy :-)

When Robert and his father moved through to the drawing room after dinner, it quickly became apparent that the women of the house were in the midst of a heated argument. Tensions had been high between Cora and Mama over the past weeks as they planned a garden party to raise money for the village school. Now, the night before the event, it seemed that they had reached a boiling point.

"I don't understand what was wrong with the flowers I arranged." Cora's hands were balled into tight fists in her lap, knuckles nearly white with the effort of keeping her voice even.

"Nothing was wrong with them, my dear, if they were meant for a funeral. But seeing as this is a garden party, I didn't think they were quite appropriate."

Rosamund, who had traveled from London for the party - and who was never afraid to insert her opinion - chimed in. "Now Mama, I don't think that's fair…"

"Best to stay out of it," Papa murmured as the arguing continued. Robert nodded. He had a headache after a long day trekking around the estate to look in on tenants and the last thing he wanted to do now was get involved in a row with his mother. Cora was more than capable of handling Mama herself. And so, when his wife caught his eye with a desperate look that clearly begged him to intervene, Robert pretended not to notice, moving to pour himself a drink.

The evening ended rather quickly after that. Mama excused herself with her usual haughty finality, prematurely terminating the dispute. Papa sighed and dutifully followed. Rosamund laid a sympathetic hand on Cora's arm before leaving husband and wife alone.

There was a beat of awkward silence before either of them spoke. "Shall we go up?" Robert asked cautiously.

Cora stood, looking sullen in a way he hadn't seen her since the early months of their marriage. She did not speak, or even look at him, until they stood at the base of the staircase. "You could have defended me, you know," she said quietly. There was an edge of indignance in her tone that made him inexplicably cross.

"Cora," he groaned, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed without another word about the blasted garden party. "You need to learn to pick your battles with Mama. They're just flowers."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he'd said exactly the wrong thing. Wounded anger flared in her eyes for a split second before her features slid into a cool, impassive mask. "You're right. They are just flowers. Goodnight Robert, I'll see you in the morning."

Guilt flooded Robert's stomach as he watched Cora turn on her heel and storm up the stairs. He pressed a hand to his forehead, dull pain pulsing behind his eyes. Why had he said that? Of course he should have defended her to his mother. Of course the flowers were important to her. Cora cared very much about her part in the running of the house, always eager to please with a careful attention to detail. While pleasing Mama may not have been an easy task, Cora should have had no trouble garnering praise from her husband. But instead he had snapped at her, dousing her desire for warmth and affection with his cold English indifference.

It was an old argument, really, one that they'd had dozens of times before. Robert had lost count of the number of instances during their first year of marriage when Cora was brought to tears by a biting remark from Mama and he had responded by ignoring her, or worse, admonishing her for being too sensitive. But things were different now; he loved his wife now and understood her better. He wanted to understand her better. As he trudged up the stairs, Robert knew that he should go to her tonight and apologize for brushing her off so thoughtlessly. She did not deserve to go to sleep still hurt by her husband's careless words, not to mention that there would be no good night's rest for him without Cora - there hadn't been in quite some time.

When his valet had gone, Robert could hear the muffled voices of Cora and her maid through the shared wall of their rooms. Stepping closer, he strained to listen for any insight into his wife's mood. It was no use, for the women were speaking too quietly, but eventually he heard the outer door to Cora's room click shut and knew that she was alone. He took another tentative step forward until he stood before the adjoining door.

"Cora," he called, knocking softly. "Darling?" There was no response. He deserved that. Leaning his head against the door, he prepared to accept defeat. "Goodnight Cora...I love you."

Silence.

Sighing, he resigned himself to a sleepless night in the cold dressing room bed. Just as he turned to retreat, the door swung open, revealing Cora in her dressing gown, her hair gathered in a ribbon and flowing down her shoulder.

Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, he noted with a painful clenching of his chest, but she looked much calmer than she had thirty minutes ago. Crossing her arms, she fixed him with a serious stare. "You can't just tell me that you love me and expect that to solve everything," she said, although he could see a hint of amusement in her eyes.

He nodded, relieved that she was at least willing to speak to him. "I know that, and I'm sorry. I -"

"Hush," she interjected. "We can talk about it in the morning. Just come to bed."

Robert stared at her for a moment, not quite comprehending the grace she was extending him. He'd expected yelling, most definitely deserved yelling, and yet here she was inviting him back into her bed. She must have sensed his confusion, for she smiled gently and took his hand.

"Are you sure this is alright?" he asked as she pulled him into the room.

"I am." She squeezed his hand, running her soft thumb along his knuckles. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and I'll sleep terribly if you're not beside me."

Releasing her grip on him, Cora sat down at her dressing table to rub cream into her hands. Robert watched her as he climbed into bed. He was quite sure that she was letting him off too easily, but he was not about to protest, especially when she slipped under the duvet with him, warm and sweet-smelling.

He rolled to face her. "Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I really am sorry." It was a paltry offering, but when he brushed his hand along her arm she didn't pull away.

"I know you are." She patted his cheek. "But sleep now."

Feeling immensely fortunate, he did as he was told.