No matter how many years had passed, Cora still felt a flutter of nerves whenever she entered a ballroom during the London season. The young girl from Cincinnati had to take a moment to process that not only was she there, she was a Countess with a daughter old enough to be presented to society.
Oh, how that made her feel old. It wouldn't be long before she herself was in the Dower House - likely living with Violet who appeared to have no intention of dying. Ever.
Hundreds of candles lit the ornate ceiling and Cora glanced to her left at Robert, who was still so regal to her. Her hand rested on his forearm and she let her fingers squeeze a bit. He glanced at her, smiling absently before turning his attention back to the glittering room before them.
Uncertainty, a whisper of old anxiety, raised the hairs at the nape of her neck and Cora straightened her spine. She would not indulge her worry, would not examine too closely the distance she felt growing between herself and her husband. It had been a tumultuous few weeks as they readied to bring Mary out, but the worst was behind them. Long evenings, exhausting balls, endless fittings all had everyone collapsing into sleep before waking up and doing it all over again. With the season winding down, Cora hoped they would be able to take a breath and perhaps have the treat of a night out. It was something she fervently wished for even as they began their first track around the room to do their social duty and say hello to friends and acquaintances alike.
Robert was so very exhausted. It seemed ages since they had such a busy season. He'd known it would be exciting to bring Mary out - he just had no idea just what a production it was to present a young girl to society. Every time he asked Cora if something was absolutely necessary - to accept an invite, a new frock, a series of calls to be made - she simply grinned at him and patted his hand.
He would deny it if pressed, but mostly he was resentful of the time poured into releasing their daughter into adulthood. For most of their own adult lives, the London Season had been something of a treat for Cora and Robert. They were free to visit, dance and participate to their heart's content and then return to Grantham House to engage in other, more pleasurable pursuits. Those were engaged in most energetically once Papa had passed and Mama only spent part of the season at Grantham House and the rest of the visit she stayed with Rosamund.
Robert had lost track of how many balls they'd attended so far and he simply hoped to get out of this one while he still had the will to stand. Yet what he wished most fervently was that he'd have the opportunity to dance with Cora, something that had been denied him all season. She hovered around Mary, guiding her into the most advantageous introductions, behaving in a way that made the Earl so very proud and the husband so very grumpy.
To be quite frank, his wife's ability to shepherd their headstrong daughter through the seemingly endless gauntlet of social obligations was something of a revelation to him. Robert had always known Cora to be kind and sweet, loving and attentive. She was well-bred, even for an American, and did not struggle with the intricacies of society. However he had no idea how cunning and capable she could be when presenting her daughter. What Robert had thought akin to releasing a newly turned butterfly into the capricious winds of nature instead turned out to be a very well-choreographed and planned troop movement. Cora had made it appear to the outside world as it should be - effortless. Mary had no shortage of suitors in spite of the rumor of her betrothal to his nephew. And Mary herself did not seem particularly worried about becoming a Countess if there were larger prizes to be caught.
Robert was forced to cease his mental meanderings when Cora squeezed his arm again and gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head to a spot across the room from them.
"Ahhh," He leaned to murmur to her, catching the lightest whiff of her powder and lotion, an intoxicating scent he'd been chasing for weeks. "Our Mary's most devoted follower."
Cora chuckled at the young man, who appeared to be craning his neck to catch a glimpse of them across the crowded dance floor. He moved with clumsy gait of a young man who'd recently gained several inches. From what Cora had told him he was not quite eighteen, but a very eligible young man indeed. Robert thought the lad was lucky for his latest growth spurt because without it, Mary might have towered over him. She was intimidating enough without that kind of imbalance.
"He's been sure to attend every single ball Mary has been invited to." Cora whispered, tucking herself closer to Robert's side, her nose brushing his cheek. "He seems very intent to make her his Marchioness."
"Poor Patrick," Robert murmured. The boy was a fine lad and Robert had a great deal of affection for him. But Mary, in spite of her interest in inheriting her mother's title of Countess, seemed singularly disinterested in the man who might give it to her. It made no difference to Robert, as he wished only happiness for his girls. He just wished it wasn't quite so exhausting to help them find it.
"Darling," Cora leaned in again, the warmth of her breath sending a little bolt of awareness down his spine. "Do you think we might have a waltz tonight?"
Robert turned to look at her fully, her bright blue eyes dazzling in the flicker of so many candles. It struck him then, how gorgeous she was. How lucky they were. And how very, very much he desired to dance with her. And so much more.
"Of course, my love." He kissed her gloved fingers gallantly, bowing just a little. Her light laughter was his reward.
Cora took great pains to make sure Mary was properly situated for her dances and was just in time to meet Robert on the dance floor as the orchestra warmed up for the waltz. She was slightly out of breath and her cheeks were pinked up. Robert smiled at her indulgently, a hint of heat in his eyes.
"I've been wanting to hold you all night." He murmured to her as they stepped into the pattern they now knew so well. It had delighted Cora from the very beginning to find Robert was such an accomplished dancer. He moved easily and gracefully, guiding her with a gentle hand. His chest rumbled against her. "All week, come to that."
"All month." Cora concurred, ducking her chin and looking up at him through her lashes, a coquettish throwback to the days of their courtship. "I've missed you."
"Oh darling," Robert breathed, the fingers on her back flexing restlessly. They kept steady eye contact through the long and intricate dance, communicating most effectively the things that couldn't exactly be voiced. At least not on a crowded dance floor. Cora was relieved to realize that Robert, too, seemed to be suffering from the time they missed together. It warmed her, almost as much as the daring little promises he occasionally whispered against her hairline, his damp breath heating her to a flush from head to toe.
It pleased Cora immeasurably to watch her husband's pupils dilate with desire. She could feel the color racing across her skin and up her throat, her cheeks bursting to a pink flame. She couldn't get a deep breath and it had nothing to do with the tightness of her stays.
She wanted to stay there dancing forever even as she wanted desperately to be alone with her husband. As the music slowed to a stop they bowed to one another and Cora took a moment to step close, resting her gloved hands on Robert's.
"I need some air." She whispered pointedly, before glancing towards the double doors opened onto a lush garden beyond. They'd spent many enjoyable interludes among the greenery over the years and Robert knew immediately what she meant.
His nod might have appeared perfunctory and curt to outsiders, but his eyes smoldered and he watched intently as she turned and made her way into the temperate spring air. Whatever exhaustion the season had produced in him seemed burned away and he fairly bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation.
Cora crossed the garden in quick strides, rolling her shoulders to release the nervous energy building in them. Mary's season had been a success and after a multitude of missed opportunities, she was finally afforded a moment of solitude with her beloved. The evening was cool and even mildly damp, but it felt good against her overheated skin. Releasing a deep sigh with the last of her tension, Cora began to roll down her gloves. If she was going to steal a few minutes with her husband, she was going to feel his skin against her palms while she did it.
The rustling of the hedges around the little bench she'd chosen rustled in his haste and Cora couldn't help but laugh a little.
"My, but you're eager." She plucked at the fingers of her gloves. "Now come kiss me before I expire from the need of it."
She released her hands and looked up. For a handful of seconds (truly it felt like hours), she stared agape at the young future Marquis across from her.
"Oh!" The pretty blush of excitement and desire deepened into the stain of mortification. Had she really just propositioned Mary's most eligible suitor? And she, practically an old woman. "Lord Wrexham."
It was not the first, second or fifth time she'd been caught out with a young Lord in the dark garden of a London season. Except most often it was with her husband. And in the earliest days of her arrival in England, a few overeager lords hungry for her dowry and her innocence.
"Lady Grantham," If the young man noted her discomfort, he was too well bred show it and instead gave a perfect bow. He stepped forward as if to cross to her and when she held up a hand to stall him, he grasped at her fingers. The skin-to-skin contact shocked her and she snapped her hand away and hid it behind her back. A long-forgotten reaction when caught taking a forbidden biscuit under her mother's watchful gaze. "I just knew you would be waiting for me here."
Cora gaped in confusion. She had been so caught up in imagining the stolen minutes with Robert, that she was having trouble processing the situation beyond her mortification. In fact, she could only form a single word in response, a very ineloquent "What?"
"Last week, at the Pomfrey Ball, you said you hoped to see more of me. Does the invitation to visit Downton still stand?"
Not wanting to appear daft, Cora nodded, her thoughts shifting wildly to follow the incomprehensible words of Mary's suitor before her.
In the light spilling from the ballroom, Cora saw Robert step out into the night and head towards her. Trying to round her thoughts into a coherent phrase, she looked at Lord Wrexham and answered dumbly "I…yes?"
"Perhaps," The boy said with an unconvincing leer, more comical than lascivious "We can find a way to send your husband off on an errand so we may be alone."
"My…" Realization settled and Cora just managed to catch herself before she laughed aloud. Robert was approaching quickly and Cora didn't want to embarrass the boy more than necessary.
"Oh, I'm sure Mary would love that!" She said, rather more loudly than necessary. "We'll arrange a hunt in the fall. Lord Grantham would be happy to take you shooting, wouldn't you darling?"
Robert had not expected to find his wife accompanied and stopped short - his hungry expression dissolving into one of confused concern. The young man standing in front of Cora was pale, his eyes wide and white, his expression vacillating between arrogance and guilt. Robert hoped the young man had a bit more training before he began to play cards, because his face gave away too much.
Cora stood with her hands clasped behind her back, looking between Robert and Wrexham with a nervous flutter to her lashes. She had to clear her throat before speaking again. "We'll host a hunt. In the fall. So that Lord Wrexham might visit Downton and see the home Mary speaks of so fondly."
"Oh, quite." Robert stared past the frozen young man to Cora, seeing his own amusement reflected in her eyes, as well as a plea. He chose to play along, as if nothing was amiss. "We would be honored to host you."
The younger man was tall, but Robert's wide shoulders and self-assured stance made him appear small. But still, Wrexham lifted his chin in defiance. When he spoke, there was a tremor in his words but he held his spine straight regardless.
"I'm sorry you've caught us out like this, Lord Grantham. We did not intend for you to find out this way."
The grin fluttered in Robert's expression, his eyes twinkling with merriment in the light. But he studiously furrowed his brow at the boy.
"Please don't judge Lady Grantham harshly," Wrexham continued. "But sometimes desire makes fools where there are none."
Cora covered her giggle with a cough, her fist pressed to her lips as her eyes watered. Robert's shoulder's jerked a bit, the pressure of stifling his own laughter nearly too much for him. But neither could bring themselves to interrupt Lord Wrexham's impassioned speech. Cora tried to school her features into impressed respect when Wrexham held a staying hand out to her.
The tableau was shattered with the entrance of Mary. "Mama? Papa? Granny sent me…" Mary stepped into the garden with her eyebrows raised, her gaze sharpening on Wrexham. He was mildly interesting with a good title and, from what she understood, an estate in fair financial condition. At least according to Granny. But she found him to be far too impressed with the sound of his own voice and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was only entertaining her interest in order to get closer to her Mama. Mary wasn't sure what it was the young man found so fascinating about her Mother, but he could hardly speak to Mary without mentioning her. He spoke as if she was some fair damsel in need of rescue, something so far beyond reality she didn't even think to correct him.
And if the poorly concealed humor on both of her parent's faces was anything to judge by, the young Lord had made his move.
"I see you're busy." She spoke to no one in particular, but kept her dark eyes on Wrexham's. He had the good grace to flush while he made a calculated decision.
"Oh." Wrexham spoke, this time turning back to Cora with anguish in his eyes. "My love, we cannot do this. There will be too much destruction in our path."
"I…" Cora looked pityingly on the boy, he looked so like Pharaoh when he'd had an accident on the library rug.
"You're right, I'm sure." Mary cut in. Her words seemed to snap the young man out of his daydream, for he nodded stiffly at them and then headed away, in the direction of the party beyond the garden.
The Crawleys watched him go before they dissolved into laughter, all of them. Cora pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, before turning to her daughter. "Oh, Mary, you aren't disappointed?"
"Heavens no, Mama. I can overlook a great deal in a future husband for the sake of a title but I won't have my intended more in love with my own mother than myself."
Robert laughed heartily at that.
"What's so funny?" Cora asked sharply, narrowing her eyes at Robert.
"Only that no man stands a chance once in the full thrall of your charms, my darling." Robert approached, reaching for her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips. "Shall I challenge him to a duel for your honor?"
"Oh shut up." Cora groused good-naturedly, even as Robert drew her nearer. In years past, he had threatened such a thing at least once a season in far more serious circumstances. But the days in which he questioned her commitment to him were long passed. He couldn't imagine a reality in which either of them ever considered faithlessness.
If such a day were to come, he might not survive it.
"I'll just tell Granny you're out here." Mary recognized the looks in her parents eyes, knowing she had only a few moments to make a gracious escape. "Or, shall I tell her you've fallen ill, Mama?"
Robert enfolded both of Cora's hands in his own and brought them to his lips once more.
"Yes," Cora answered faintly, all humor draining from her at her husband's nearness. "I believe I'm feeling a little faint."
Mary turned on her heel and went to find her grandmother, not the least bit bothered by all that had occurred. She'd had eighteen years to come to terms with a few things, namely her parent's affection for one another and the strength of her mother's charm over unsuspecting males. Perhaps she should be offended that a suitor found himself under her mother's spell but Lord Wrexham was fairly insufferable and Mary had no plans on being stuck in a one-sided marriage. She might speak as though she has no belief in love, but one cannot live with her parents and not yearn for the same kind of union.
Once more alone, Robert's expression softened and he dipped his head forward, nudging his nose against Cora's cheek. He twined his fingers with those of Cora's and then drew her hands down and around to her back gently, pressing their chests closer.
Her breath became light puffs against the skin of his neck and he wanted nothing more than to taste her racing pulse.
Cora's stifled cry of pleasure as he closed his lips against her throat chased Robert's mouth into a smile and he drew back just enough to brush against the shell of her ear saying, "I'll just call for the carriage."
When he looked back over his shoulder, Cora's expression was heated, the pearls of her teeth biting into her lips with desire.
He hurried to call the carriage, not a moment to be wasted.
a/n - so this is going to have to be a two-parter because I haven't even gotten to my prompt yet, which is "saying i love you as a promise". is this story called "mary's mom" in my docs? ABSOLUTELY. am I embarrassed by the fact that i've been singing my own version of it for the last 3 weeks? ABSOLUTELY not. next stop, middle-age coitus, our favorite.