The Proper Way of Things

by AndAllThatMishigas

Robert Crawley, Viscount Downton, needs money for his family's estate. He has to find a wife whose dowry will save them. Everything about Cora Levinson and her family is highly improper. Robert cannot abide by such things. But marrying her will solve all of their problems. And change both their lives in unimaginable ways, if only they can figure out how to make their marriage work.

27. Chapter 27

August 27, 1888

Cora's lips were soft and warm and inviting as Robert slipped his tongue between them. She moaned and slid her tongue against his. Her hands were everywhere on him, and he had somehow managed to pull down the bodice of her dress to reveal the tops of her breasts, prominently displayed by the way her corset pressed and shaped them. One of hands danced over her flesh, so hot and velvety smooth. His other hand was navigating the layers and layers of her skirt to try and get a feel of her thigh. He'd never seen her legs, but he imagined they would be long and shapely and utterly magnificent.

They pulled apart to gasp for air, and Robert pushed her back slightly so she would lie on the settee. He covered her body with his own. Her legs were spread and her skirt rode up just enough for his hand to get underneath. His mouth trailed down her pale neck to her heaving bosom. Her panting and gasping and moaning had him more aroused that ever in all his life. He had to touch her. He needed her with everything in him.

Robert woke with a start. He sat up, trying to calm his thundering heart. As he moved, he felt the sheets of his bed stick in an embarrassingly familiar manner. The effect of his dream was keenly felt. Robert was mortified.

This was not the first time he had experienced this particular occurrence, but it had gone away, thank god, during the two weeks Robert spent at Duneagle with the Flintshires. But now he was back at Downton and these awful dreams were back as well.

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom to try and clean himself up a bit. Might be worth having a bath before breakfast. He'd ring for Willis.

As always, the valet was discreet and helpful and made no comment or expression when Robert asked for a bath to be drawn and then to be left alone for a while. He needed to think. And the sheets of his bed would need to be washed and he did not want to be anywhere near anyone while that fact was discovered by the staff.

Robert settled in the bath and sighed. Perhaps the dream had come because he'd been in the library with Norman after dinner the night before to give the dog some attention after being away. And the library was where Robert had last kissed Cora. That kiss that had taken over his head and his body and left him wholly uncontrolled. It was a terrible liberty he had taken, daring to kiss down her neck and drag his lips over her soft skin. He had nearly carried on further than that, but she had said that she loved him and he'd come out of the trance.

Cora loved him, and he couldn't understand why or how. And it just wasn't fair. A marriage shouldn't start this way, he knew. Not a proper marriage. In every single way, to Robert's mind, he and Cora were on unequal terms. She loved him and he did not love her. She had money and his family was desperate for an influx of funds. He had good breeding and she had none. He offered a title and her family needed some respectability. She was American and he was English. Loggerheads at every turn.

But he had told his parents when they had each expressed doubt in the match that he was certain. Mama hadn't tried to dissuade him again after the debacle with Lady Della, thank goodness, but she was obviously still unhappy with his future bride. Papa had not asked Robert about Cora to try and get him to choose someone else; rather, Papa was consulting with the lawyers to draw up the paperwork for Cora's dowry to be made part of the estate, and he wanted to be certain that they weren't going to the expense if Robert was going to change his mind. Robert would not change his mind. He would not let Cora down. He might not be in love with her, but he would not hurt her. She was a nice girl and deserved happiness. Robert would do what he could to make her happy. She was going to be his wife, and he would give her a good life in exchange for her money to save the estate and for an heir to continue it.

That was his duty. To be a good husband to and to make his wife happy. How he was supposed to do that, he has absolutely no idea. But he would figure it out. Perhaps he would talk to Marmaduke. After all, Rosamund seemed happy in her marriage. But then again, she and Marmaduke loved each other. The same could not be said of Robert and Cora.

Well, for now he could do his best to stop fixating on her. She was back in New York, which he knew because she had already written to tell him, and he would not see her until after the new year. He would write a letter back to her today after breakfast so that he could be done with the chore and get her out of his head. And hopefully that would end these horrible dreams. The dreams themselves were rather wonderful, of course, but the effect was terribly embarrassing.

Knowing there was no use continuing to wallow about it, Robert got out of the bath and called for Willis so that he could start the day properly. He would write to Cora and then put her wholly out of his mind until he received her next letter. They were organizing a hunt, and Robert would write to some friends to see who might like to join him. Fox hunting was always a good thing to focus on.

After breakfast, Robert went to the library—the site of his last passionate encounter with Cora, a memory he needed to bury as best as he possibly could—so that he could write his letters before going to talk to the groom about Seymour's condition in anticipation of the hunt.

He read over her letter again. She had read Treasure Island on the ship to New York and went on and on about how much she enjoyed it and how amusing it was to read a book about pirates while crossing the Atlantic. Good lord, even in her writing, Cora was enthusiastic and excitable.

Though he could not help but notice her handwriting. He'd only seen it a time or two when they had written back and forth about getting together in London when he had tried to court her. She had a very specific way she wrote the letter R. She wrote his name more than once in her letter, which he wasn't sure he liked or not. But he did sort of like the way she wrote his name. The R was nice. It was something at least.

Robert wrote a few things he could think to tell her and did not spend too much time thinking about it. The whole purpose was getting his mind off Cora to give him some bloody peace. He gave the letter to Carson to post as soon as he'd finished with it. Hopefully the adage of 'out of sight, out of mind' would prove true.