AN: I try to avoid having analysis of both Robert and Cora's thoughts in one chapter; I know it can make things harder to read. However, I have decided that for the chapters where Cobert actually have conversations in this story, to have both their thoughts running alongside each other. This was just to avoid massive sections of thoughts/feelings if I split it halfway through the conversation and because I think it's important for this particular story to analyse where they both are at each given moment. It seemed inappropriate to only 'hear' from one of them at the important moments of them actually talking to each other!

Please do review if you are reading this! Reviews dropped off a little last week and it would be great to know you are all still there!

Chapter 3

I hate that woman

No great surprise there.

I suppose you think I made a fool of myself? I don't think you were much better. Flirting and twinkling with that ghastly travelling salesman.

Go to sleep and when you wake up make sure you get out of bed on the right side.

Sleep was not likely to claim him any time soon. The anger from his fall out with Miss Bunting still simmers around his chest, threatening to accelerate through his entire being. The frustration with Cora, that had been coating his veins since Mr Bricker made an appearance, is a ready accelerant and as he repeats her tone through in his head he finds that the anger begins to spread a little. He lets it bite.

"I think both of us need to think carefully about which side of the bed we get out of tomorrow." He doesn't turn to look at her, knowing that she will be facing the other way. He just stares at the dark shape of the bedside table and the lamp; their grainy outlines becoming clearer with each second that passes since Cora had turned the light out.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her tone is spiky. It was a tone he avoided at all costs, when Cora spoke like that, she was to be avoided until she had regained her composure. He knew well enough that a spiky tone meant she was on the precipice of her own anger – something that was rare, as she usually regulated it very well. Tonight though, anger clouds his judgement.

"What it means is that I think we would both do well to consider and reflect on our behaviour from today. I need to apologise to Tom and you need to consider whether you're behaving suitably with that ghastly man." The last two words drum in her head. She knew this was coming, she had rather hoped her comment to him would starve him off for this evening. Arguing with Robert when he was already angry was not a good idea. But it seemed he was determined to discuss the subject and use as much colourful language to describe Mr Bricker as he could find.

"I have done nothing to warrant being told off Robert." She knew well enough that this wasn't strictly true, he had heard Mr Bricker's comment earlier in front of the painting, and he had heard her answering laugh. But that was all, she had allowed another man to flirt. She was not going to be lectured by Robert on that subject, or any others. Being lectured by him was not something that she accepted – not in regards to their marriage. They were equals, even if society did not deem them so. If he wanted to lecture her then she would let him, but she would not give him the pleasure of winning. Not now, not when he was being so hypocritical.

"Nothing! Forgive me Cora, but this morning he openly flirted with you, alone in a room in MY house and you laughed. I heard you laugh. And at dinner, you flirted with him so openly that even my mother noticed." A tear pricks at the corner of her eye and she sits up in the bed. She doesn't look at him, his back is still to her. She pinches the tear away.

"Your mother misses nothing."

"Don't be smart with me Cora." His last retort had generated a single tear – easy to pinch away and easy to hide. These words make her eyes swim with tears. He knew just how to hurt her. Ironic that he uses a word that she so wants him to associate with her but spits it into the air as a sarcastic retort. She blinks the water away and the sarcasm from his tone swirls in her head, generating a sort of angry haze. She speaks through gritted teeth, it would not be wise to lose her temper.

"We were merely having a conversation Robert. You cannot ban me from having conversations with other people. For goodness sake, I have conversed with many a man at our dinner table and many a man of your acquaintance has flirted with me before now."

"Yes, men of my acquaintance. Men that I trust. Not travelling salesman who are most probably up to no good." He can hear her huff. He ignores it. She could huff as much as she liked but they both knew she had behaved badly. Bates might well be right that she had reasons, but right now, with her sarcastic replies he was in no mood to hear them. He doubted any of her reasons would excuse her poor behavior anyway, what excuse could there possibly be for flirting so openly with another man in front of him?

"That's rubbish Robert. We both know half the men in the house of lords aren't to be trusted!" He doesn't say anything, but she hears him shuffling the sheets in an agitated fashion. He knew she was right. She takes the opportunity and grasps it, her anger at his hurtful remarks finding its way into her words. "Which must mean that what you are really trying to do is ban me from inviting any guests of my own. I don't suppose there any other new rules you expect me to follow that I ought to know about?"

His anger flares again and he pushes back the bedding, turning to sit up in the bed. He meets her gaze. He can see the defiance behind her eyes. She was not going to back down. He meets her head on. Two people made a marriage and two people broke it apart. If she wanted to argue then he would argue. He had nothing to lose, she was in the wrong.

"Don't be petulant. That is not what I said. You know what I mean." He holds her gaze, his finger stabbing at the bedding in the gap between them. He sees the flashes in her eyes, he sees the anger growing behind her eyes. He spots the subtle signs as her jaw clenches, her cheeks turn a little darker, her eyes narrow and the creases around them become more prominent. He knew every line on her face, every expression it made.

"No Robert, I don't think I do. This is my house, this is my home. I hasten to remind you that you would not have this house or this estate if it was not for me! And now you are deciding who I can and cannot talk to in my own home." It was a low blow to bring up the origins of their marriage. She knew that. But tonight was not the time for being lenient. He might not be aware of how much his words hurt. He might not be hearing the undertones of his remarks – the hint at his lack of trust in her. He could well be unaware of how he had been hurting her for months but it was time to try and wake him up to it, even if it meant meeting his unfeeling remarks with ones of her own.

"I never said anything about restricting your conversations or your guests. I am merely trying to point out that Mr Bricker might not be as suitable a guest as you thought."

"Suitable. By which you mean you don't like him. It may surprise you to know that I don't like some of the guests you invite, but it doesn't mean I ban them."

"I am not asking you to ban him, just to regulate your behaviour."

"I see, so you're now going to blame Mr Bricker's flirting and your own jealousy on my behaviour." Jealousy. His brow furrows for half a second. He was not jealous, was he? No, he could not be jealous of such a dreary art historian who probably spent his entire life reading some book and staring at paintings that were older than him and equally as pointless. Angels don't even exist for goodness sake! He hesitates for a second, his mouth opening and closing, his denial falling flat on his lips as the sound of her laughing at that man ring though his head.

"I didn't say anything about being jealous. Frankly Cora, Mr Bricker can flirt as much as he likes. What I don't like is the fact that you have clearly not told the man to stop. In fact, you laugh and blush. So yes, I think you need to amend your behaviour." Not all of that was strictly true, he probably wasn't as comfortable as he was trying to portray with the idea of Mr Bricker continuing to flirt. That only opened him up to opportunities for having Cora's smile and laugh bestowed on him and a chance for her to return his flirtation. But Mr Bricker was not his concern, it was Cora that was his concern and she was making a fool of herself and taking him and their marriage down with her.

He was right of course. He had cut right to the crux of the matter. She hadn't turned Mr Bricker away. She hadn't actively encouraged him with words, but she hadn't turned him down either. She had never made a direct statement with enough sincerity to make him stop his attentions. She didn't like to think about the reasons for that because they led to the heart of this whole matter. She was unable to be sincere because she missed the attention. She missed the excitement of having someone appreciate her and want to converse with her because they liked her and valued her opinions.

"Perhaps I might be tempted if you weren't behaving so childishly about this Robert. You ask me to amend my behaviour but you haven't mentioned anything about altering your own."

"My behaviour! My behaviour has nothing to do with this situation." There it was. She had forced the only words out of his mouth that she had not wanted to hear. He didn't know what this was about, of course he didn't. She felt like Caroline Bingley when she forces Mr Darcy to state that he thought Elizabeth Bennet one of the handsomest women of his acquaintance – his words hurt nobody but her. She finally drops her gaze from Robert's, tears filling her eyes again.

"No, of course it doesn't." She whispers the words sarcastically under her breath as she turns away from him, hiding her tears from his gaze. She slides back down under the covers and pulls them up to her chin. It seems he hasn't heard her because he makes no response. She dabs the tears away on the edge of the bedding.

He is sure she mutters something, but he can't work out what is it. It seemed his points had been taken on board though, she had conceded. He would feel more pleased about it, if something in his gut wasn't telling him that he had just split the crack that had been developing between them into a fully formed chasm. He stays sat where he is, staring up at the canopy above as he runs his hands through his hair. It takes him back to the earlier days of their marriage when he had stared up at this canopy for a few moments before slipping back to his dressing room after another evening of perfunctory sex. At this moment he can't even remember the last time they made love, he blinks at that thought, when was the last time they even kissed? Their anniversary? Yes, he had kissed her that evening before they had laid together and talked, reminiscing about their wedding day. Then they had been interrupted by the shouts of a fire. He frowns again, realising in retrospect that maybe that hadn't been quite how their anniversary should have gone. They normally made something of it. He swallows and glances down at the back of Cora's head. Maybe things hadn't been quite right for a while. Maybe they would never be right again? Maybe Cora wasn't as enamoured with him as she used to be? Maybe Bates was wrong, what if she didn't have an ulterior motive with Bricker? Maybe the motive was exactly what it appeared.

She had been staring across the room at the wall on the opposite side of the room, blinking at the tears slowly and letting them slide onto the pillow. She had felt isolated and alone in their marriage for some time. Tonight though, she feared they had reached a new level of misunderstanding. If the tears weren't streaking so quickly down her face she might have taken the opportunity to turn to him and explain, but she would not face him like this, unable to control her emotions. She could not face him when the wounds he had just inflicted were still raw and bleeding. Being told off by him was not something she had experienced much, and it hurt deeper than ever on this occasion because she knew he was right. The worst part though was being lectured about flirtation by a man who had not behaved perfectly himself – he had absolutely no right to critique her behaviour when she had gone all these years without even mentioning his. Those thoughts only make the tears flow more, mingled with a strange angry frustration that causes her to grip the edges of the pillow beneath her head. His sins had gone unnoticed, and yet she was reprimanded for hers. She had overlooked his and accepted him back into her bed and her arms, accepting that everyone made mistakes. She had even in her own head accepted the part she might have played in his indiscretions, but it seemed her goodness would not be returned by his understanding and forgiveness on the occasion of her flirtation.

"Do you want his attentions, is that it? Do you want to have some sort of affair with him?" His words jerk her from her reverie. They briefly still the tears sliding onto the pillow, her eyes widening with shock. She almost turns and shows him her face. She is so tempted to roll over and press herself into his side, to feel his arms slip around her and to take him within her own. Showing him that there would never be a time that would destroy her love for him and certainly no circumstance that would make her think of being with anyone else. But she doesn't, the angry frustration about his hypocrisy lingers in her veins. It was time he started to put as much effort into their marriage as she has always done. It was time for him to figure things out for himself and learn from his mistakes.

"I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer."

It's not that I dislike him exactly. It's more that this business has been dragging on and on.

Robert, it's a compliment. By referencing our painting in his book he'll increase its value, maybe by a lot. Is that so bad?

You're not forbidden from inviting him.

Good, because I already have.