AN: The first half of this chapter is another M rated section. For those of you not interested in that sort of thing, you'll want to skip to the line break.

Thank you all so so so much for all the reviews and please keep them coming! Cobert love to you all.

Chapter 29 – July 1889

She looks at the clock again. Half an hour past the usual time he would appear in her bedroom. He wasn't coming. Again.

She slips out of the bed and crosses to the adjoining door before she has a chance to overthink her actions. She didn't mind him staying away, if he had given a reason, but he had not. He hadn't visited her since that dinner in which his mother had admitted to using Henderson to report back to her about her activities as a wife. Cora suspected that Robert was avoiding her because of this, some misguided sense of loyalty to her over his mother. She knocks on the adjoining door.

"May I come in?" She doesn't actually wait for an answer, she knew he was alone. She pushes the door open.

"Cora!" He scrambles to sit upright in the bed, pulling the haphazard bedding across his body. She doesn't process anything else about the scene for a moment, too struck by the look on his face. His face is tinged a shade of crimson she had never seen on his face before, and his eyes are wide with shock. "What on earth are you doing in here?" He adjusts the bedding around his legs again before his hands run through his hair, ruffling it from the nape of his neck to his forehead.

"I should think that was obvious, I'm here to see you." As she focuses on him a little more she notices the perspiration on his neck, in the hollows of his collarbones and on his forehead.

"You shouldn't have come in without knocking."

"I did knock, and I called out."

"My mistake, I must have been daydreaming." She frowns, how had he not heard her? He fidgets the bedcovers again and when his eyes meet hers again she knows what else was off about his appearance – his pupils. They are wide, and not just with shock. She glances down at the bedcovers and back up to his face. She is sure she blushes from a combination of realisation and confusion. She hopes at least, that the blush isn't obvious, it would only embarrass him. "What was it you wanted?" She steadies her thoughts, maybe her reason for coming in to speak to him would be easier, if her assumptions about his current state of affairs were correct.

"An explanation for your avoidance of me."

"Cora –" His tone is defensive, she can almost hear him saying that it is nothing for her to worry about, before he proceeds to pretend that he hasn't been feeling well.

"No Robert, don't try to make some excuse about being tired or unwell or whatever you're about to say. You have not visited me since that dinner last week. I know you're not cross with me because you have been nothing but attentive during the day, so what is it?" He looks at her and he continues to look at her. He seems to be waiting for her to keep asking questions so that he doesn't have to answer, but she doesn't give in. She was not going to be the one to break the silence. She wanted an explanation, and she would wait as long as it took. Lord Grantham was right, marriage was a long business and it would be much easier if they admitted their problems as they went along, just as they had promised each other they would.

"I just can't."

"'Can't' what?"

"Be with you." He gestures in her general direction. She understands his meaning, he was eluding to their marital bed.

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong." She frowns, and then she swallows. His articulation of his thoughts was not very good, she doubted he would ever be a man for great detailed accounts of his feelings, but she felt that this conversation was probably heading in the very direction half their conversations seemed to lead to – him feeling guilty. She bows her head, wondering how best to bring him around to her way of thinking without repeating the same things she always said – that she loved him, nothing would change that, and she didn't care about his motives for marriage or anything else, she simply wanted him.

"Why do you think it's wrong?"

"I refuse to create a child with you on the back of my mother making cruel remarks." It was illogical, completely illogical and silly, but it makes her heart swell and happy tears to prick at the corners of her eyes. He might be overthinking everything, but he was so kind and so heartfelt it was impossible to be cross with him. His gaze is firm and steady where it holds her own. She finds that she doesn't know what to say. Although his thoughts were illogical, they seemed like the greatest leap she had made in the direction of making this man fall in love with her. There had been the kiss outside the hall at the flower show, that had been Robert being tender and kind hearted. But that was no different from normal, not really. But this, he was willingly sacrificing his duty to Downton (a duty she was fully aware he must enjoy partaking in) because he did not want to create a new life simply to please his mother. He was putting her feelings above the duty of Downton. It was incredibly endearing. Of course, he had overlooked that by not making her pregnant, his mother would only get more infuriated with her, but that was for another day, right now she can't think of words adequate enough to express her love for him.

His gaze suddenly drops from hers and the loss of that connection spurs her into a reflexive action. She steps towards the bed and slides one knee onto it, followed by the other. She reaches her hand out to his cheek. As he opens his mouth to protest she crushes her mouth firmly to his. From this angle, her face above his, she doesn't hesitate in pushing her tongue quickly over his lips and into his mouth. He gasps and seems to freeze.

She takes the opportunity of his momentary hesitation to explore his mouth with her tongue. He deepened their kisses all the time, but she rarely got the chance. She flicks her tongue around his, exploring its texture, the softness of its underside and the rougher texture of its top. When he finally starts to respond to her, she adjusts her position so she is straddling his waist. She doesn't sit on him, she just hovers above him, her hands on his shoulders and in his hair as she continues to kiss him.

She feels the now familiar desire knotting in her abdomen. The passion and her reflexes had driven her this far but she now felt very unsure about what she should do next. They had never been like this before. She had never been in the position of control. Although she had tried to be bold and let her desires drive her during their previous unions, she had never initiated them in this way. She had pulled him closer; guided his hands under her nightdress to her breasts and even dug her heels into his buttocks when he was above her, but she had never been in a position of control over him, she had only ever responded to his actions.

She pulls away from his lips, panting softly at the exertion of having to hold her body upright whilst kissing him so passionately. She expects him to drop his face from hers and to gently guide her off of him, but he doesn't. He lowers his chin and dips his face into the hollow of her neck. He had kissed her on her neck like this before, gently sucking at the skin beneath which her pulse dances. The first time he had done it on their honeymoon it had sent electric shocks straight to her abdomen. It does the same now. With each lick she feels her need for him growing stronger. She gasps each time he makes a particularly gentle tickling over just the right place on her neck. There was something about that spot which made her whole body quiver with need.

She grips his shoulders, struggling to stop her knees from shaking. As he slides his tongue along her skin in the direction of her ear lobe he wraps an arm around her back and gently pushes his hand against her bottom, coaxing it downwards into his lap. She obliges him, the relief of not having to support her own shaking body weight overcoming her. His hand stays resting on her bottom, gently pinching at the fabric of her nightgown. His lips continue their ministrations at her neck, whilst his other hand is slowly pushing the nightgown up her right thigh, punching it at the point of her hip. She lifts her hips from his lap and reaches down to pull her nightgown up to her waist. She crosses her arms over and taking the bunched fabric, she begins to pull it upwards. As she does so, she leans away from him and his lips fall from her neck,

"Cora?" He looks up at her with his eyes wide, his hand reaching out to still her elbow as she tries to remove her nightgown. "You don't have to do this." She shakes her head with a smile, and knots her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I want to do this, and I know you do too." He blushes but doesn't resist her accusations. "On our honeymoon I thought we were making progress with understanding each other and enjoying this part of our marriage, but in the months since I felt like we haven't progressed at all. I would like to change that." He caresses her hands and traces his fingers over the hem of the nightgown that she holds.

"How were you thinking of making more progress?" His voice is very soft, as if he is afraid to speak too loudly in case it was a sin for anyone but her to hear him ask such a thing.

"Well, I hadn't exactly planned anything, I'm not the one with experience here Robert." She tries to brush off her nerves with some humour. "We're in a different room, does that count?" She laughs at her own silly idea and she watches him smile, which serves to relax her. "I was about to take my nightgown off, we did that once on our honeymoon and I liked it." It was probably her fondest memory of the intimate part of their honeymoon. It had been a night in Florence near the end of their time abroad and rather than simply trailing his hands on her skin beneath the fabric he had pushed it up to her shoulders and proceeded to watch himself trace his fingers over her breasts. She in turn had watched his face as he had done so. Then, when he had pushed inside of her she had been able to feel the friction generated between their bodies so much better with her skin exposed. The desire tugs her in the abdomen and brings her thoughts back to the present.

"May I?" His hands are gently taking the hem of her nightgown from between her own fingers. She relinquishes the fabric to him and nods. He lifts the nightgown over her head and drops it onto the floor. His hands trace up the length of her sides and she relishes the feel of his fingers brushing at the edges of her back. When they were together usually he wasn't on the right angle to do that. It tickles but in a pleasant way, it builds that need for him that grows between her thighs. He leans towards her and kisses her. He starts softly, following the gentle touches of his fingers, but he increases his pressure as his thumbs start to rub at the underside of her breasts.

She thinks she has control of herself, and is settling back into her gentle climb towards building that fire within her and the dampness between her legs that would allow a much pleasanter joining of their bodies, when his hands change their rhythm. He presses insistently with the pad of his thumb at her nipple and she gasps, her mouth falling from his. Her eyes flicker open in shock, and she finds his are open to. He watches her unblinking, repeating the gesture with his thumb over her nipple. She bites her lip this time, more prepared for the spike in her desire that it brings. He continues his pattern of flickering her nipple, his eyes remaining fixed on hers. She finds it oddly uncomfortable having him study her so obviously whilst she was grappling with controlling herself, and she has to close her eyes as he continues. She prefers this anyway, it allows her to focus on the feel of his hands on her body. She rubs her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, using that as an outlet for the expression of her gasping shudders.

She feels a need to be closer to him, the coil in her abdomen was doing its usual fluctuating sensation of tightening and then relaxing, teasing at her to find a way to make it harden to its fully tense position. She uses her position with him trapped beneath her to inch further into his lap, allowing her knees to sit level with back rather than by his thighs. She feels the press of his arousal between her thighs, even with the bedding in the way. He inhales deeply at the sensation and she finds that the noise makes her inadvertently push against him, mirroring the movement she sometimes made to match his thrusts when he was inside her. She thinks he mutters her name at that, but the sound is indistinguishable, and pales completely in comparison to the feel of his fingers actually holding her nipple between them, rather than just flicking and pressing. He twists is now, slowly and deliberately.

She isn't sure anymore how to control her own actions. She knows her hands stay in his hair but other than that all she can think about is the need to push against him, to stoke her flickering embers into a fire and from that, tighten the coil in her abdomen to the point where she might finally be able to find out what it feels like when it springs open. She had learnt that the coil become more palpable the more the wetness between her legs grew, and she knew this was spurred on by friction and contact with Robert. She's learns now that it works even better with Robert playing with her breasts.

"Cora." His voice is strained and it pulls her abruptly back to the reality of the moment – there are in fact things going on besides the burning in her abdomen. "We should move." He doesn't wait for her to respond; his hands have reached around her back and he pushes her to lie backwards on the bed. She doesn't need to be told now was the moment to remove her final item of clothing, that was clear by the way he was discarding his pyjama bottoms. She removes them deftly, and drops them onto the floor. She parts her legs and adjusts her position to where she knows it needs to be to make the next moment as easy for him as possible. It takes her by surprise therefore, that when he turns back to her having removed all his clothing, he does not immediately seek out his usual routine of pressing his fingers a few times to gauge her wetness. Instead, he brushes his hands up the inside of her thighs, making her push her hips upwards into his hand when he doesn't touch her where her body wants him, and then, rather than kissing her his head dips towards her breasts.

She gasps before his mouth even touches her breasts. When his tongue flicks over her right nipple she arches her back reflexively, demanding with her body the words she is not brave enough to find. He doesn't kiss her there for long, but it's long enough for everything but the fire within her to become insignificant. She hardly notices him moving and gently adjusting her legs. She sighs appreciatively as he runs his fingers over her intimate wetness and she flicks her eyes open so he can meet them out of natural habit – she had learnt early on that he liked her confirmation before he joined their bodies together. She keeps her eyes open for as long as possible, but as he pushes past her narrowest part she closes them reflexively, allowing her mind to be overcome with the sensation of them being joined together. This was the moment she liked best, the moments whilst he let her body adjust, the low deep movements he made. They built her fire, they inflamed it in a way nothing else could. She pushes her heels into the back of his thighs and lifts her hips to meet his, which allows him to brush slowly over a place within her that she found to be unbeatable in forcing that coil to remain firmly closed – its energy only building within it rather than being wasted coming uncoiled. The slow movements don't last long, he always waits until the point he feels he can increase his pace without hurting her and then he begins in earnest, tonight is no different.

It was still nice, but the loss of the closeness of his body makes it harder to stay focussed on the feel of him inside her, instead the energy of his movement is consuming whilst not actually being in quite the right place for her to gain the same level of satisfaction that his slower movements encouraged.

He finishes with his usual stillness, a kiss to her lips and a quick trace of her jaw with his thumb. She is left with the same burning embers of a fire and a coiling spring in her abdomen that has the dissatisfaction of slowly uncurling itself in the time it would take her to fall asleep. She knew that there must be more to it than that, if he was allowed such a satisfying moment of release, it must be that her coil of fire was allowed something similar?

She swings her legs to the floor and finds her clothing as he changes on the other side of the bed. When she is redressed she finds him watching her, a look of confusion on his face. This was always the most awkward part – afterwards – neither of them ever seemed to know what to say.

"Goodnight Cora." He dips his head and reaches into his hair to scratch his scalp, a sure sign he was as unsure as she was.

"Goodnight Robert, and thank you for listening to me and allowing us to make some progress." She smiles softly as he blushes. She steps back through the adjoining door into her bedroom. They had made progress. She might not have figured out to release her own fire, but she had found new ways to build it and surely that would lead in the right direction? They had returned to a closer intimacy than they'd had since their honeymoon and her breasts still felt tender in the best way from his attentions.

He frowns. The feminine handwriting is unfamiliar to him. He doesn't receive that many letters from women so the women that he does receive letters from he usually recognises instantly. This was not one of those. He takes the letter opener from the tray Peters offers to him, and slices the envelope open. The butler moves away leaving Robert alone in the great hall.

He unfolds the letter absentmindedly, thinking about how pleased he would be to sit down to some tea once he has changed. He was a little late for tea, having been out around the estate with Cleo, but he was eager to see Cora and she would be at tea. He heads towards the staircase, intending to read his letter on the ascent up the stairs.

He almost trips on the bottom step as he turns his eyes to the page.

The lettering on the page he recognises instantly as Evelyn's. She had clearly made her maid write the envelope. He briefly wonders why, but then he starts to read and it becomes perfectly clear – she hadn't wanted to run the risk of him seeing her handwriting and refusing to read the letter. He admits to himself that he might have been reluctant to open it if he had known it had come from her.

Robert,

I hope this letter finds you well. Forgive my deception for not writing the envelope, I wanted to make sure you read my words and I am no longer sure you like me enough to do me that courtesy if you actually knew I was writing to you.

I have written to make a simple proposition. Seeing you at your sister's wedding reminded me how much I miss you.

I am expecting my first child. It is still rather early to be certain it will all turn out well but it has made me think.

We have always done well together Robert. I believe we were made for each other. We've made rather a mess of things, or at least I did. But we can fix that, to a certain extent. We may never be able to be married but there are other ways for us to be together.

I don't think I need to be more explicit, I am sure you understand my meaning.

It can't happen right away obviously, we both need to secure the future by producing legitimate children. But, by the spring next year I will know if I have succeeded in having a son and a couple of years from now I might have had another. My point is Robert, is that if you strive to do the same and we both secure our lineage in the next couple of years, we can almost have the lifetime together that I always thought we would.

Please think about it.

I love you, and I want to be with you in whatever way we can.

Yours always,

Evelyn x

He hasn't advanced further than the first step. His face is flushed. His head is pounding and his ears feel red hot.

What on earth was she thinking?

What was he going to do about it?

He folds the piece of paper in half and pushes it aggressively back into the envelope before taking the stairs two at a time. It was too exposed, standing at the bottom of the stairs where anyone might come across him standing in a trance.

His initial reaction to throw the letter into the flames lingers with him as he slips into his dressing room and rings for his valet. It was beyond unladylike for Evelyn to have written such a thing – if it ever got discovered she would be ostracised. The irony of that was not lost on Robert given the inappropriate love affairs that were the norm within a large percentage of the upper classes, but that did not change the fact that women did not initiate those things, and they certainly did not write them in a letter.

As he paces the room, he realises that there is a greater problem at play. He could destroy the letter, indeed, he probably would at the earliest convenience, but it did not change the fact he had read those words. He could burn the letter a thousand times (if such a thing were possible) but he would never forget what she was asking. She would not forget either, that much was clear, so something was going to have to be done about it. He could not have her thinking that such a scheme was an option. He would not break Cora's trust in him. He had made vows to her, he had promised her, and he would not let her down.

The options were plentiful. He could ignore the letter now, and wait until the allotted time, as she had explained and then simply deal with the fallout as it occurred. This plan was the easiest to stomach. He could just go for years ignoring her letters and shelve the issue for later. Although tempting, he knew it would not work. It would cause the issue to fester in his mind (never a good idea) and he and Evelyn were bound to meet at a local society event and her determination to have an answer to her proposal would no doubt enter the conversation if she got half a chance. She wouldn't let him ignore it, goodness, she might even turn up at Downton to specifically talk to him about it – he feared that anything would be possible when she was so fixated on him.

That left him with the other options. He could write back and decline– the most obvious and simplest way to get his point across. Or he could write to Philip and ask him to caution his wife about making further contact. The second option was less ideal, the issues Philip and Evelyn might be having in their marriage were for them to sort, and not for him to point out. How would he even word such a letter without admitting to Philip that Evelyn was already thinking of betraying her marriage vows? It was not a feasible option. The only thing to do was to confront Evelyn directly. The question remained as to how best to do it.

A letter was the obvious choice since she had contacted him in that manner. But Robert had a feeling that one letter of refusal was not going to be enough to make Evelyn back down. He was growing all too familiar with the determination of women in love – they did not back down. Robert has also witnessed Evelyn's underhand tactics in relation to her love for him once already, it was unlikely she was going to let him slip through her net a second time. It would hardly be ideal to be left in a situation where she kept writing to him and he kept either burning her letters or politely refusing. The longer that went on, the greater chance that someone would find out about their correspondence or even see one of the letters. He had been lucky today, the letter had arrived with the evening post, meaning he had been alone to open it, that would not always be the case.

He could write back now, but he felt in the near future he was going to have to have it out with Evelyn properly. He was going to have to break her heart, something he had avoided last time. He had got cross, he had yelled, but that had been as a result of her having gone behind his back with that ridiculous engagement announcement. Clearly, she was living in some sort of assumption that he had walked away to protect his pride, rather than because any affection he had felt for her had shattered with her betrayal.

He had walked away from Evelyn's love all those months ago because she had destroyed his trust in her and he had been scared. Now here he was, embracing the love of his wife, even if he didn't love her back, despite having known her so little time in comparison. The difference was he trusted Cora absolutely. He knew without a doubt her love would never turn malicious, not like Evelyn. He also knew, that if he did find a woman he loved one day, Cora would let him go. She had never said so, and he had never asked – it was not a consideration, nor a situation he intended to find himself in. But somehow, he knew that she would let him go. Cora's love was pure, whereas Evelyn's was selfish, she wanted to have him and was going to be forever jealous of anyone else that did. He didn't doubt that Cora would be jealous of another woman, but she wouldn't be malicious with it. The time would have to come when he put Evelyn in her place. He only hoped he could keep it at bay for a little longer, whilst he decided how best to achieve that. It wouldn't do to drag it out too long, but neither would it do to get the words wrong and leave Evelyn with some sort of hope for the future she was determined to have. He would need it to be a clean break.

He sighs deeply, his valet now present and helping him to change into a clean and dry set of clothes, he had thought the issues with Evelyn were behind him. That the most he would ever have to put up with were some awkward dinners in which the structure and rules of society would serve to protect him. Clearly, he was going to have to take more direct action to protect himself.

As his anger, confusion and frustration towards Evelyn begin to subside they give way to the much more dominating feeling of guilt. The world was full of people and yet, in his short life he had managed to have two women fall in love with him. Most people struggled to find one, particularly in the more limited choices of the upper classes. He had found two. Two beautiful and intelligent women and he deserved neither of them. Not because he wasn't going to be an Earl and didn't have a lovely home, but because he did not love either of them, not like they loved him. He liked them, one was his childhood friend, the other his wife, but he didn't deserve their hearts. His scruples with Evelyn were fair enough, but it didn't change the fact he had upset her deeply and he had used Cora. Cora and Evelyn were very different people, but they were also very similar. The similarities cause the guilt to rise.

He swallows hard. He tugs his jacket straight and heads downstairs, determined to distract himself with a cup of tea and his mother's acerbic teatime conversation. She was bound to come up with something controversial to distract him.

Charles is serving tea as he enters. Robert was still frustrated with his father about not letting Charles become his valet – he had been so good during his brief interlude in the role. But rules were rules it seemed, and Peters wanted him to spend some more time in his current role. That Charles was being prepared to take over as butler once Peters finally retired was known to everyone.

Cora turns towards him as he enters, a bright smile spreading across her face. He can't help but smile back, seeing her pushes some of his fears to the back of his mind. She was gentle, caring and supportive, and he would need that his afternoon. It was her subtle character traits that he had learnt to admire the most so far in their marriage. She never fussed, she never made drama. She always tried to smooth over disagreement. It was excessively calming and, he knew already, a good antidote to his own short temper.

"Ah Robert, how lovely to have you join us." His mother gives Charles a gentle nod and the footman retreats out of the library. Robert rolls his eyes in anticipation, clearly his mother has a topic of conversation in mind.

"Don't let me interrupt anything the two of you have to discuss. I'm in desperate need of a cup of tea." He walks over to the table and begins serving his tea. Naturally his announcement does not deter his mother.

"Oh, you're not interrupting. Cora and I run out of things to say when it's just the two of us." He feared his mother was going to annoy him more than he would like today. His anger was already simmering because of Evelyn – she would be much wiser to hold her tongue.

"I doubt you have run out of things to say Mama." He turns back to see Cora smirking into her tea cup. He catches her eyes and they share that look of understanding. Frustrations about their respective mother's was something they had always shared. His mother eyebrows merely raise at his impertinence and she gives him that look that he knows if he was still a boy would result in no dinner.

"I was just commenting to Cora that afternoon tea will turn into such an important part of the day, you know, when we have children in the house again." Robert rolls his eyes, not attempting to hide the look from his mother. He advances towards the settee and lowers himself down into the blush red cushion beside Cora. A quick glance towards her shows her to be seemingly unaffected by his mother's words. She was either putting on a brave face, or she was so accustomed to it now she could actually remain unaffected. Whichever it was, he was not happy about it. He would not fight with his mother, it wasn't worth it – she always won – but he could be disappointed in her. Her treatment of Cora was disappointing him more and more.

"You do realise that continually mentioning it will make no difference."

"Well, it might. It might motivate you both into doing something about it."

"I refer you to what I said at dinner a few weeks ago Mama. Cora and I are taking our duty seriously. There is no cause for concern just yet, we have plenty of time to have many children." He did want the entail sorted sooner rather than later, of course he did. But he was wary of how new Cora's entire life was to her already, to add a pregnancy and a baby into that, before she had even fully grasped aspects of her new role seemed awfully unfair. It was easy for his mother to see it as the main thing to be done – and indeed it was – but Cora still needed to settle into life here and the world she had married into. She was also facing the death of her father in the immediate future, adding a baby just seemed like it might topple her before she had even begun. Surely it would be easier to get through her father's death and a few more months of adjustment before she also became a mother.

"You don't need to have many children Robert dear, just enough."

"It would like to have many children." Her voice is soft beside him, and she is looking at him, ignoring his mother's comments altogether. She holds his gaze, silently communicating the sincerity behind her words. She was insinuating both her love for him, and her desire to have their future full of children that they have created together. Of course she would, being so In love with him. Not that making children would be so very bad. Not at all.

"Don't be ridiculous! Women like us do not have many children. We have enough to secure the line and that is the end of it."

"I'm pleased you think we are the same type of woman Lady Grantham, I wasn't sure you did." Robert doesn't even try to purse his lips or hide his smile. He smiles widely as he glances up to see his mother's reaction. Her face is a picture, her eyes are wide and she has leant back in her chair, as if recoiling from being physically hit. He glances across to Cora, her expression is soft and perfectly composed, her eyes fixed on his mother. Pride swells within his chest. Rosamund had been right on the morning of his wedding – he had made a fine choice of wife.