AN: Thank you all so much for the continued support. A little reminder that The Space Between is updated usually on a Monday or Tuesday, this story is Saturday updates and Extensions is probably going to be Wednesday from now on.

Please do continue to review. The lovely comments keep me writing. I am on the final sprint to the end as far as the writing of this one is concerned so a little love is much appreciated. Cobert love to you all.

Chapter 30 – August 1889

The smoke billows into the space between himself and Marmaduke. Robert watches it, the way it races from his mouth into the space and then it stops, out of energy, and dissipates in gentler swirls. The strands of it become loser, they spread apart as some of them swirl upwards, some downwards. No two exhalations are the same and yet there is a pattern to them, a distinctive rhythm to the way the wisps of smoke race through the air. Watching them twirl about settles his mind, it steadies it, the repetitive shapes bring his mind to piecing together the questions he had for his brother-in-law.

Ever since he and Cora had accepted the invitation to come to London and see the house his sister and Marmaduke had purchased just before their wedding, the idea of raising his concerns with Marmaduke had been consuming his thoughts. He exhales a large plume of smoke and finds the courage to speak. Now was the moment, just the two of them with their after-dinner cigars and port, their wives safely seconded in the drawing room.

"Marmaduke, can I ask you something, about marriage?" His companion laughs, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head at him quizzically.

"You've been married longer than I have Robert, shouldn't I be the one asking questions?"

"It's more a question about women, rather than marriage, to be honest." Marmaduke was several years Robert's senior, and he thought it likely that he had more experience with women than Robert did. He had also lived a less confining life and he had seen a greater variety of the people that the world had to offer.

"Go ahead." Marmaduke leans forward in his seat and refills both of their glasses. Robert takes his, and takes a long swig of the amber liquid. This was going to be awkward, however he said it, but he didn't know who else to ask.

"It's about Cora." Marmaduke laughs, exhaling a puff of cigar smoke upwards to the ceiling.

"I should jolly well hope so, because if it was about some other woman I'd be giving you a clip around the ear." Robert doesn't feel threatened by the comment. He would want to be clipped around the ear if he was thinking about another woman. He swallows away the thoughts of Evelyn that rear their ugly head – that was still a situation he needed to work out how to resolve. "I might be the newest member of this family, and I might not be so aware of all the ridiculous shenanigans with mistresses that the upper classes go in for, but I do know that a man cannot be bored of his wife after only six months of marriage." He laughs, Robert feels himself tense. Marmaduke was so direct, so straight to the point, it reminded him of Cora. There was no hiding, no pretending, he presents himself exactly as he is. Robert wasn't always sure exactly who he was, except an Earl in waiting. That's all his life had ever been about.

"Cora seems to want to try things and to…" His words get stuck in this throat. Maybe he couldn't speak about this with Marmaduke after all? It was not a topic for discussion, he should not have mentioned it. But he was so confused. Cora loved him, he didn't understand that per se, but he understood what that might mean for her (as much as he could). He knew she had read books she ought not to have done, and was more forward than other women probably were, but he still wasn't sure if he should give in to her requests to be shown things and to try things in their marital bed. He didn't want to treat her like an object, to take what he wanted and then leave her. So far, he had kept her largely at bay, trying only small things she suggested. They had made micro steps since that night she had come to him in his dressing room.

"Anything you tell me Robert, goes no further, I promise. Not even Rosamund."

"Cora is very eager to please, I suppose that's the best way to put it, in her duty as my wife."

"That doesn't surprise me. She looks at you as if you've descended from heaven." Marmaduke grins widely and takes a sip from his glass.

"Quite, which I don't deserve."

"You ought to get used to it. She loves you, that won't change."

"Anyway, she wants to try different things and she keeps asking me to show her what I might like and how to do different things and I…I don't know if I should?" Robert watches his companion's expression as he feels the heat spread irreversibly across his own face. Marmaduke drops his gaze to start with, a small tweak of his mouth at the corners the only sign that he had heard what had been said. When he looks back Robert can distinguish some mirth in his eyes, between the furrowed brow and crinkled forehead. He narrows his gaze and tilts his head, seemingly organising his thoughts. Robert thinks he might be chewing the inside of his lip, maybe trying to fight back laughter, but he isn't sure.

"Are there any reasons you think you shouldn't?" Robert is a little taken aback by the question, he had hoped that Marmaduke was simply going to give him a direct answer. He was fed up with everything being so complicated. He just wanted another opinion, he was sick of wallowing in his own worries and concerns.

"Well…I feel guilty. Cora is so –" He swallows, unsure of what words came next. There were so many to choose that might fit: young, beautiful, selfless but also delicate and innocent and deserving of love he could not give her. "She has given so much to our marriage already and I just don't think I can take anything more from her." He had never voiced that to anyone else, he isn't sure why he tells Marmaduke now, it wasn't like he knew this man that well. Not really. But he knew enough to know that he wouldn't laugh and he was mature and sensible enough to listen and to give his opinion without being judgemental.

"But she is offering Robert, does that not suggest she is doing it out of the kindness of her heart, and her love for you? Would you really be taking something from her, as you put it, when she is offering it?"

"But what do I have to offer her in return? Nothing."

"Perhaps, you could ask her what she might like?" Marmaduke takes a long drag of his cigar, but his eyes don't stop watching him. Robert knows they witness his embarrassment at such an idea – he can feel his own cheeks and neck flushing as his mind conjures up images of Cora that even in his dreams (and there had been some of those) he had never ventured towards. Marmaduke chuckles softly, not unkindly, as he lowers his cigar and exhales.

The smoke dances strangely as it twirls from his mouth between his chuckles. It swirls in little ripples and it gets dragged backwards as the pressures in the air change with Marmaduke's changed breathing patterns. He leans forward and extinguishes his cigar on the plate, another laugh falling from his mouth.

"Oh Robert, you don't think she has any idea what she might like, do you?" Robert swallows. Marmaduke was teasing him. Robert is relieved when he seems to shake his head from side to side, leaning back in his seat. He stops grinning, and his face turns serious again. Robert feels his embarrassment at the conversation topic replaced by a feeling of guilt again – was he supposed to have asked Cora these things already? Surely not? She had been a virtuous woman when they married, she wouldn't know what she liked.

"Cora was – " Marmaduke holds up his hands and shakes his head.

"Let's not concern ourselves with what she was. What she is now Robert, is a woman who has been married to the man she loves for six months. I am sure she has experienced enough of sex to know a little of what she might like. Ask her." Robert isn't sure which part of that comment makes him feel the most uneasy: Marmaduke having actually spoken the word sex, or the idea that Cora might have desires that she wanted to express to him. He furrows his brow, this conversation was beginning to raise more questions than it was answering.

"And what about her requests for me to show her things that I like?"

"What harm can really come of it? Goodness, I am sure there are a lot of men who would do anything to have a wife who was concerning herself with their husband's pleasure."

"But isn't it a little, I don't know, tactless, and common, to ask her for things I like. She's my wife, not some tart." Marmaduke rolls his eyes.

"You see, this is why the upper classes are so absurd. You live in all this splendour but you don't understand the fundamentals of living. Sex is universal Robert, it is not governed by class, status…anything. She's your wife, and she loves you, I can't think of a more suitable woman in the world to share your desires with." He has raised his voice, but it's not in anger, its more in bemusement. Robert closes his eyes and takes a long drag of his cigar. It all sounded so simple when it was phrased like that. It all sounded like giving into his desires for Cora, and letting her discover her own would work. On paper, it seemed perfect, as Marmaduke had alluded too. But on paper there were no emotions. Cora's love could be framed as the positive thing it was, rather than what it felt like in his head, which was a chance for him to be an endless disappointment to her.

"I think that makes it almost harder. I'm terrified of…of –"

"Abusing her affection for you?" Robert simple nods. Marmaduke sighs and leans back in his seat, crossing his ankle over his knee. "I know it might not sit well with your conscience Robert, I can see that it makes you feel guilty. So, my advice would be to try and find out why she wants to know those things, and ask her if she thinks there is something she would like in return. Then you might have a chance of knowing you're not abusing her affection because you will know she is happy. Maybe then, you might feel less guilty."

"I doubt it." Marmaduke leans forward and aggressively pours some more port into his glass. Robert watches as his eyes narrow as he turns back to him. There was something similar about his tempers and Rosamund's. They both came across pragmatic and realistic, laughing off anything and everything, until suddenly their eyes narrow and they are being deadly serious.

"You can feel guilty for as long as you like Robert, but she will always love you and she will always be the one that has moved across the world for you and given you her money. Facts do not change. You are going to have to find a way to overcome some of this guilt, otherwise it will overcome you. Life and marriage can be awfully long and you're setting both of yours up for failure if you wallow in guilt. You can't change the money and you can't move to another country for her. So you're going to have to meet her in a compromise with the other things she asks for, rather than running away from them. Maybe, then the guilt will only stay the same, rather than grow bigger."

"Maybe you're right."

"I am right. The only other plausible option you have is to fall in love with her." Just like that, Marmaduke returns to his normal jokey character, the seriousness and the narrow eyes are gone, replaced by mirth and a cheeky grin. It was moments like that which reminded Robert that seemingly everyone else was able to talk about love so flippantly. Maybe that was what happened when one was actually in love? Robert doesn't have an answer to Marmaduke's remark. There isn't an answer. He had thought this over before now – the possibility of falling in love with her. Clearly Marmaduke thought it was still an option otherwise he wouldn't have brought it up as a possibility. He would ask him, but the moment has passed, and Robert felt awkward enough about the conversation that had come before, without further burdening Marmaduke with his messed-up emotions.

The exchange is clearly at an end. Marmaduke stands, and gulping down the last of his port, strides across the dining room to the door. Robert hears himself mumble some comment about coming and joining him in a minute, before his brother-in-law slips out of the room.

He presses his own cigar into the dish and extinguishes it. Staring at the ash left behind. Burned to a frazzle, having served no purpose but to bring tranquillity momentarily to him as he had inhaled the tobacco. He felt like that, maybe that was to be his lot in life – burned to a frazzle trying to look after everyone else whilst rarely getting anything he wanted. He pushes that thought away, it was uncharitable, he had so much. But maybe it was true of his marriage. Maybe that was what it was going to be – his taking what he wanted as Cora's heart crumbled into a thousand pieces. Marmaduke was right about the guilt, it was going to eat him alive. Maybe giving into Cora was the way forward? Give her what she asked for, and show her the things she asked to be shown, let her heart have that, even if that would be all it could have? Or maybe, this might be a way for him to grow fonder of her and that might lead to him falling in love with her? Would that work?

"Marmaduke thought I ought to come and check on you." He starts in his seat, her quiet voice breaking him from his reverie. He glances up, she stands in the doorway.

"I'm fine. Sorry, I'm just coming." He reaches for his glass and swallows the last of the liquid.

"There's no hurry. Rosamund and Marmaduke have excused themselves to bed." She blushes, no doubt thinking about exactly why they had opted for such an early night, Robert blushes with her, and they share an embarrassed smile of understanding. He briefly considers asking her right then about what she might like for them to try. There was something exhilarating in the combination of alcohol, a house almost empty of people and having her stood before him with that sweet blush tinging her cheeks. He doesn't. It would be better in a more private setting, just in case, he wouldn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. "Would you rather go to bed, or are we going to sit in the drawing room for a little while?"

"I'm happy to go to bed. But Cora, can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"I know my mother is a little difficult, and I know things with your father are troubling you, but overall have you been happy so far in our marriage? Have you been happy with me? I haven't upset you or anything like that?" She smiles the smile that he has seen before – the one that hides the laugh just behind it. In the quiet of the empty dining room he even hears the slight exhalation of breath that is the buried laugh. It meant she was amazed by his comment, that on some level she thought it absurd. She shakes her head from side to side slowly. "What's funny Cora?"

"You." She moves further into the room, she holds out her hands as she nears him. He steps forward and takes them. "I sometimes wonder if you might be blind! Of course, I am happy Robert. You're right, not everything is ideal and I still have much to learn about my role at Downton and being a wife, but I am happy. You're a fine husband." He was not deserving of that praise, but he doesn't correct her. He knew well enough now, that when she said things like that she meant them, and there was no point in fighting them. He would be spending his life hearing such things and to deny them, or refute them, would only make her say them more if her stubborn streak was anything to go by. "And you've brought me away from your Mama for a week, that's just proof of how wonderful you are." She is teasing him, her eyes dancing with excitement. He laughs. They hadn't spent enough time teasing each other lately, it had all seemed so much easier when they had just been acquaintances in ballrooms and in parks.

"I know she can be terrible, I am sorry."

"Don't be, I like the challenge. I'm sure she and I will find our way. After all, I have survived my own mother to make it this far!" She had done better than survive in his opinion, she was radiant, witty and astute. But he doesn't say this, he isn't sure how to. He isn't sure how to praise her without it sounding hollow and like a reflex action to equal her praise of him. He merely smiles, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"And I'm very grateful that you did."

The world turns slowly as she sits up in bed, the dizziness overwhelming. She pulls herself to a seated position slowly, it would help to pull her knees closer to her stomach – experience had taught her that. She didn't often get much pain with her cycle, it would pass once she had eaten and gone for a short walk, it almost worked more like a cramping from lack of exercise than the pain she knew some women experienced. She swings her legs to the floor, and pads across to the bathroom.

She goes through the process of cleaning herself up and sorting herself out, focussing all her attentions on the tasks at hand. That is the only way to keep the emotions away. She does well, managing to clean herself up, change her underwear and remove her nightgown and exchange it for her dressing gown all without letting her thoughts drift to the bigger picture.

When she moves to the sink to rinse her hands, her gaze flicking up to the mirror above it, her resolve cracks. She sees her eyes staring back at her. They look empty and hollow – tired. They seem to exude all the thoughts she was trying to keep hidden, a vessel into her inner thoughts.

It was worse this time. It wasn't just that she wasn't pregnant. She had thought she was.

It had been naïve to think so of course. She had been a day or two late occasionally in the past. Her body was not perfect, sometimes it slipped by a couple of days. But it hadn't since she had been married, until this time. So, she had thought that the moment had come.

How wrong she had been, and how much it was going to cost her emotionally.

It had been such a lovely week as well, the reprieve from Downton and the company of Rosamund and Marmaduke had been exhilarating. Not necessarily because they were particularly similar, but they all got along, and it was so wonderful to not have to be constantly wondering how she was going to defend herself from the next of Lady Grantham's barbed remarks. She rather thought that the joys she had found this week would be overshadowed in her memories now, by the fact it had also been the week that had brought with it the disappointment that after six months of marriage she was still not pregnant.

Henderson appears with her breakfast tray and the look on her face as she spies the abandoned nightgown, and then proceeds to the bathroom makes the tears come. Lady Grantham would know even before they left for London to return to Yorkshire in two days. She tries to blink the tears back, it was childish to cry in front of a servant. It was childish to cry at all given that this could hardly be put down as something that was her fault. She and Robert had been trying. Henderson and Lady Grantham could frown as much as they liked, but she was not refusing him. If anything, the issue was probably that he still stayed away for what probably equated to about a third of the month.

"Would you like a warm flannel for your tummy m'lady?" She drops the piece of toast she had been eating back onto the tray. Henderson has not only dragged her from her own musings, but was actually asking something kindly. Henderson was not a great talker, she worked quietly and efficiently, only ever asking for reassurance that she was happy with these jewels or this hair style. For her to ask about something that might bring Cora comfort was a new idea completely. Cora had missed the easy relationship she'd had with Emma.

"No, thank you. A nice breakfast and then a walk around Lady Rosamund's little garden will solve the pain."

"Very good m'lady. I'll go and fetch your parasol and coat whilst you eat." Cora simply nods as Henderson leaves the room. She slowly munches through her breakfast. Despite her belief that she thought she would never get used to the idea of having breakfast in bed, she had been finding that she did actually enjoy the custom. It was true that some days she still ate more at her dressing table or on her chaise longue – book in one hand – but it was a nice thing to be able to do when she wasn't feeling entirely herself.

There is a letter on her tray from Harold, she opens it that and peruses it slowly. It doesn't contain very much information – her brother had never been one for the use of words – but it does bring her up-to-date with the situation at home with her father. Harold was a more factual writer than either her mother or father. Her father ignored the topic of his health altogether most of the time in his letters, and her mother she feared was driven by her emotions on the matter. Some of her letters were filled with good thoughts, others were depressing, and it was hard to work out between the lines how well her father was really doing. Harold was more pragmatic.

It seemed the latest situation seemed to be one of little change. After the set back about a month ago when the doctor had reduced her father's life expectancy back to sometime around Christmas, things had not changed. It was no worse, but neither was he better. Her father had decided to stay in Newport for the duration, he liked the sea air (he had stated in his last letter). Harold rather more pragmatically explains that the doctors had advised them it would be very unwise to move him at this stage, too much travel would not be wise – he had already done too much after travelling in Europe for the majority of the previous eighteen months.

Harold asks at the end of his letter if she will still be able to come for the end, even if it clashes with Christmas – he seemed to have some concern that she would not be able to be spared from Downton at this time. Cora can't think why, she had assured them all, as had Robert, that they would both be travelling to America to see the end of her father's life. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and it was not how she really wanted to make her first trip to her home country with Robert, but she didn't have any choice in the matter.

She folds the letter away as Henderson reappears. Her stomach thankfully, had already begun to settle and even the struggle of getting her corset on doesn't make her feel ill. Henderson checks she is comfortable, a more imploring look in her eyes as she asks than Cora has seen before. What was happening with Henderson? Was being away from Downton having an effect on her?

"Lady Rosamund has asked for you to meet her in the drawing room before you go outside m'lady." Cora nods, this wasn't unfamiliar. Rosamund had done the same on a couple of other mornings this week. She seemed to know that Cora liked to walk in the morning and had endeavoured on some mornings to join her. Cora knew she would be pleased with her company this morning, it would distract her from her emotions and stop her from wallowing in her own disappointment at her failure to be pregnant.

She takes the parasol Henderson offers her and heads for the stairs. Her stomach still felt a little unsettled, but she knew it would pass in an hour or two. She ambles down the stairs slowly, anticipating that she was likely downstairs before Rosamund, who although clearly awake enough to send a message to her via her maid, was not likely to have risen as early as she had and was probably still eating.

Robert had commented to her that Marmaduke was much tardier about his time keeping as regards breakfast than he had been when he had stayed at Downton. He had put this down to being in his own home and making his own rules, but Cora speculated that it was probably more to do with the fact he was married and that he and Rosamund likely went to sleep later than they had before, and possibly also lazed in bed together in the morning. It was speculation on her part, based on the assumption that she thought Marmaduke was unlikely to uphold the tradition of sleeping separately from his wife. She had tried very hard during her stay with them to not think too hard about the differences between their marriage and her own. She and Robert might have been married longer, but there was no doubt that Rosamund and Marmaduke had a connection that made their marriage seem more fulfilled than her own. Those were not thoughts she liked to think about, so she avoided them. It was better to focus on what she could change, than what she couldn't.

She opens the drawing room door, expecting the room to be empty, only to be faced by the wide grin of Rosamund, and then, as she takes a further step into the room, another lady. Recognition is immediate.

"Isabella! I thought you said you were in the country for the duration of my visit to London?" Her friend stands, and comes to take her hands and kiss her cheeks.

"I was. But I found I couldn't pass up the chance to see you, and there was nothing to keep me in the country any longer." Cora shares a look with Rosamund, they both knew – the whole of the ton knew – that Lord Dascombe had his mistress almost permanently living with him at his country seat. Isabella lived her life in London, and only returned to the country when her presence as the Duchess of Dascombe was essential. Isabella turns back to Rosamund, and the settee, as Cora takes a seat next to her. "I do apologise Lady Rosamund for calling so early, I just didn't want to miss Cora before her return to Downton."

"Don't apologise, and just Rosamund is fine. I'll leave you both to have a good catch up and then join you in the garden later?" She directs her words towards Cora who simply nods as her sister-in-law disappears from the room.

"Oh Isabella, I am so pleased to see you."

"And I, you." They both tumble over their words. Cora's mind is tumbling with questions, but her stomach remains unsettled.

"Before we start sharing all our news, would you mind if we walk in the gardens whilst we talk? I'm in need of the fresh air and exercise to settle my stomach." Isabella gasps.

"Oh my Cora, are you pregnant?" Cora blushes and shakes her head, her thoughts swirling with those feelings of inadequacy again, even Isabella thought she ought to be pregnant.

"No, no. It's just the normal…actually I don't really want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry, that was terribly rude of me. Let's go out to the garden and forget I ever said anything." Isabella is armed with a parasol of her own and they make their way outside. They are silent for a moment, each recovering their thoughts from the awkward moment before.

"How's little Henry?" Cora knew that Isabella would never tire of talking of her son. All her letters were filled with his achievements. Despite her unhappiness in her marriage, Cora knew that Isabella would not trade anything for her son.

"Oh, he's wonderful Cora. Some days I still can't believe I'm a mother, but most of the time I'm just filled with love for him. He's become much more proficient at crawling now, you should see him. When I go to the nursery now he crawls towards me if nanny puts him on the floor. I'm wondering if he might be walking by Christmas." Her face is aglow with happiness and it makes Cora smile. There was always something infectious about seeing other people happy. To see a friend happy was even better. She hoped that she would find the joys in motherhood that Isabella had found, when the moment came. "You must come and see him before you go home, if you have time?"

"Of course, I would like that." The last time Cora had seen him had been minutes after Isabella had given birth. She had stood, along with the nurse and doctor as the tiny squirming infant had been placed in his mother's arms. She might have envied the baby at the time, six months away from being married herself, but she had not envied the effort it had taken Isabella to bring him into the world. As much as she wanted to have a child, she was not looking forward to the labour. It had been unorthodox, as Lady Grantham had pointed out at the time, for an unmarried woman to be present at the birth, but Isabella hadn't had anyone else. Her own family were in America and her mother-in-law was an avid supporter of her rake of a son, Cora had happily taken the additional black mark Lady Grantham had added next to her name to enable her to be with Isabella.

"Would you think me incredibly stupid if I said I hope that my most recent visit to see my husband might have resulted in another baby?" Her voice is soft, the spirit and excitement from moments before is lost, replaced by a timid and rather withdrawn note of resignation.

"No. Of course not. You're a wonderful mother to Henry and I am sure he would benefit from some siblings."

"What is very childish, is that I would like it to be a girl next, because I want a daughter, and I know if it's a boy, that will be it. I will only ever have two sons. As much as I would love never to have to see my husband ever again, I would like a daughter, and he's the only person that can give me that. And I know he won't if he's got his heir and his spare." Cora swallows. If there was ever a reminder of how right she had been the other night when she had told Robert he was a wonderful man, now was that moment. She dreaded to think what it was like to be married to such an unfeeling individual as Lord Dascombe.

"I'm not sure it's childish Isabella. You want more of the joys that you have found in motherhood. I think my mother-in-law would term that making the 'best of a bad lot.' She might even agree with me when I say that you deserve as much joy as life has to offer given your marital siuation." Isabella half laughs.

"How is Lady Grantham? In your last letter I got the impression things had become a little rocky with her again?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's nothing I can't handle. She's desperate for a grandchild is all." Cora sighs, how was it everything at the moment circled back to the same point?

"It will happen Cora. I know that doesn't sound very helpful, but it will." The lapse into silence for a few seconds and Cora turns her eyes to sky, watching the wispy clouds drift across the blue sky. She missed Downton she realises, with the ability to see the sky stretching on for miles. London was so much more claustrophobic, in Yorkshire the world felt like it went on forever. "What about marriage? How is that going? It looks like it's suiting you, you seem happy."

"I am. I'm very happy. Robert is wonderful." Isabella laughs.

"I'd wager he could be terrible and you would still say he was wonderful, so I'm not sure how much of what you say about him I should trust!" Cora rolls her eyes, Isabella was simply teasing her. "Come on Cora, there must be something about him that frustrates you?" She twists the parasol around in her hands as she tries to think if there is anything that frustrates her about Robert. There were a few things: his constant comments that evolved around apologising about marrying her for her money and the way his eyes always seemed to be screaming an apology every time he so much as kissed her.

"I think he still feels guilty about his motives for marrying me."

"And so he should! Stealing a beautiful heart because he needed the money." Cora isn't sure if Isabella is being sarcastic or entirely honest. The edge to her tone was hard to decipher. "I jest. I have known Lord Downton longer than you have. I have watched him in ballrooms and at dinners for two years. I know he is a good man and it doesn't surprise me that he feels guilty."

"I wish he didn't. I knew he wanted my money and I married him despite of it."

"He's a man Cora, his pride is wounded by it. But you know, it might have its advantages. I'm sure you can think of ways to use his guilt to your advantage." Isabella's green eyes are penetrating in their gaze, Cora blushes.

"Now you sound like my father. He seems to think I might be able to get Robert to fall in love with me."

"He might be right." Isabella turns away, not giving Cora the chance to study her face this time. Why was everyone so sure of this idea that she could make Robert love her? She didn't think it was impossible, but it also scared her at the same time. Of course she wanted him to love her, but if it failed wasn't she just setting herself up for more heartbreak? Would it not be worse to grow closer to him only for the whole thing to crumble to the ground? Every moment in which she had thought she had grown closer to him would then echo in her mind forever. Even if he never loved her, or, god forbid, he ever found a woman he did love, what she had lost would be so much more palpable, wouldn't it? Ironically, it is Lady Grantham's wisdom that resonates in her mind now – don't do things by halves – that's what she would say. Cora bites her lip, maybe it was time to stop skirting around the issue of finding ways to entice Robert into loving her and be bolder. She had tried some bold things, and those had seemed to work, maybe she just needed to try some more? "How is your father?"

"As good as can be expected." Cora is thankful that Rosamund appears behind them at that moment. It was a welcome distraction to have another person to keep the conversation going and divert the conversation away from herself.

"May I join you, or am I intruding on a private conversation?"

"Not at all, Cora and I were just discussing your brother."

"What a boring topic of conversation. Honestly, I left Downton to get away from him!" Rosamund laughs, her ginger hair catching the light, green eyes sparkling. Cora finds herself laughing too, although it was true that Rosamund and Robert were not all that alike and distance had probably improved their relationship, it was not true that they hated each other. They had a deep understanding of each other. "You should have seen him the other day Duchess, he was all in a fret about getting Cora a birthday present, it was awfully funny. But also, not at all funny, he can be so dense." She shakes her head from side to side.

"That's a little harsh Rosamund, Robert isn't dense." Rosamund raises one eyebrow, as if questioning Cora's authority to make such a comment.

"Believe me Cora, he's dense when it comes to you." Cora frowns, as a look she doesn't understand passes between her two companions. What on earth did they mean? She's about to ask, but Isabella has turned the conversation to Rosamund's wedding and the moment is gone.