Mary dropped the report she'd been trying to read for the last half hour onto her desk. It was no good, she simply couldn't concentrate on it. Her mind kept wandering back to her luncheon with Granny.

Seeing Spratt and Denker practically carry her redoubtable grandmother up to her bedroom to rest had shaken her to the core. Until today, she hadn't witnessed the toll the disease was taking on the old lady. Now she was under no illusions about the extent of Granny's illness.

Her appetite for luncheon fled with her grandmother's retreat but after leaving the Dower House, Mary knew she couldn't go back to the Abbey. If she ran into her mama or – worse – her papa, she wasn't sure she could lie to them about what had happened. Instead, she retreated to the office, knowing Tom was in York at the car dealership today and she would have the place to herself.

Alone, with no-one there to judge or pity her, Mary allowed herself the luxury of giving in to the emotions she normally kept wrapped up tight inside her. Her grandmother had been an indomitable mainstay of her life, always there, always ready with an opinion, words of advice or a pithy comment, whether they were welcome or not. She was someone Mary had always felt a kinship with beyond their familial bonds, someone she knew would always tell her the truth, yet would also defend her to her dying breath. Now, her beloved grandmother was entering her final stretch of life and Mary simply couldn't imagine her life without Granny in it.

Sitting at her desk, Mary let the emotions she'd bottled up for so long come flooding out. She sat there, her elbows on the desk, her head in her hands and sobbed as she hadn't done for years, not since those dark days after Matthew was ripped so suddenly and traumatically from her. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, hardly believing there could be so many tears inside her.

'Mary?' a surprised voice came from the doorway.

Mary jerked her head up, desperately trying to wipe her eyes, but the tears just kept spilling out of her.

'Mary! Whatever's the matter?' Tom came forward, his face full of concern.

'Nothing,' she mumbled, still fruitlessly trying to stem the flow of tears, feeling incredibly foolish.

'Well, that's clearly not true. Whatever has happened to upset you so?' he asked, tossing his hat on his desk and moving towards her.

Mary swivelled her chair away from him, desperate for him not to see her face. 'Please leave, Tom,' she croaked through the tears and the lump in her throat, feeling dreadfully embarrassed to have been caught in such a state.

'No, I will not,' he said, fiercely, rounding her desk and dropping to his knees in front of her. 'There's no way on God's earth I am leaving you alone when you're this upset. Please talk to me. Tell me what's wrong.'

'I can't tell you,' she mumbled, trying to avoid his eyes as he peered up at her, worry all over his face.

'Mary, it's me. You can tell me anything. I hope you know that,' he said, reaching out to take her hands. 'Nothing can be this bad, surely?'

Mary stared at him, feeling the emotion surge up inside her again, threatening to break through once more. 'But it is!'

'Then tell me. It might make you feel better,' he said, rubbing his thumbs gently over the back of her hands.

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at his dear, familiar face.

'It's Granny. She's dying,' she blurted out, then clapped her hand over her mouth in horror at betraying her grandmother's secret.

Tom's mouth dropped open in shock, then his face softened with sympathy. 'Oh, Mary, I'm so sorry.'

Mary gripped his hands tightly, shaking her head urgently. 'You can't tell anyone! I shouldn't have told you. She doesn't want it to be known. Not yet. She hasn't even told Papa.'

'But she's told you.'

Mary nodded, her face crumpling. 'At the ball at Harewood.'

'So, you've been carrying this on your own since then?'

Mary nodded again, unable to speak as the breath caught in her throat and more tears coursed down her cheeks.

'Oh, love,' Tom said, kneeling up and pulling her into an embrace.

Mary clutched his jacket, burying her head in his shoulder, and gave herself over to her sorrow, sobbing fit to break her heart. Tom simply held her, letting her cry for as long as she needed, muttering soothing noises and endearments into her ear now and then, gently rubbing or patting her back.

Eventually, Mary calmed down, the hiccupping sobs giving way to shuddering breaths until she was finally still in Tom's arms. He didn't let her go until she pulled back, trying to wipe the tears from her face. Tom put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a perfectly pressed handkerchief and handing it to her.

'Thank you,' Mary said, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, finding it hard to look at him after losing control so completely. She fixed her eyes instead on the dark patch on the shoulder of his jacket. 'I think I might have ruined your jacket. I'm terribly sorry.'

Tom shrugged, keeping his hands on the arms of her chair, boxing her in as if afraid she might bolt if he didn't. 'It's just a jacket, Mary. I daresay it'll clean up. Are you all right?'

'I'm… I'm… well, truth be told, I'm horribly embarrassed that you caught me in the middle of such an outpouring of emotion.'

'You shouldn't be. I know you like the world to believe you have no emotions, but I know different. I'm glad I was here. I'd hate to think of you going through all of that alone.' He studied her carefully. 'Do you feel better for having had a good cry?'

Mary thought about it for a few seconds. She nodded, dabbing at her eyes again. 'I do, actually.'

'Then that's all that matters,' he said, smiling at her.

'I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, Tom,' she said, awkwardly, fiddling with the handkerchief.

'You haven't. And don't worry about it anyway, Mary. Heaven knows you've seen me at my worst moments. And you helped pull me through them to the other side. We've done that for each other, so don't think for a minute that I think any less of you because of today because I don't, and I never will.'

Mary nodded, knowing all of that was true.

'I know how important the Dowager is to you,' he said, gently.

Mary pressed her lips together, feeling more tears at the back of her eyes.

Tom watched her fight them back and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. 'I'm always here for you. Now I know, I can help you carry the burden. If you need to talk about it or just want a shoulder to cry on again, you can always lean on me. Always. I hope you know that.'

Mary stared at him, feeling a deep rush of love for him. 'I bless the day Sybil brought you into this family, Tom.'

He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and affection, his lips quirking into a small smile. 'That's not what you thought at the time. Certainly not when you stopped us eloping.'

'No, well, I was young and foolish then, and I didn't know how important you would become to me.'

Tom's face softened. 'That means a lot to me to hear you say that, Mary.'

'I honestly don't know what I would have done without you over the last six years. I really don't,' Mary admitted quietly, glancing shyly at him, feeling utterly self-conscious and weirdly nervous, all things she never usually felt around Tom.

'The feeling is mutual. You must know that,' he said, softly. 'Since I lost Sybil, you've been my rock.'

They gazed at each other for a minute before Mary looked away, suddenly feeling even more awkward, an unaccustomed feeling tightening her chest. To distract herself, she reached into her bag for her compact mirror, dreading to think what she must look like. She flipped the compact open and braced herself.

'Goodness, I look a horror,' she muttered, taking in her puffy eyes, red nose and splotchy, tear-stained cheeks.

'No, you don't. You're far too beautiful to ever look a horror,' Tom said, smiling at the surprised look Mary shot him. 'Don't give me that look. You know you're beautiful.'

'You've never told me that before, though,' Mary mumbled, surprised at just how good his throwaway comment had made her feel.

'No, well, it's not good for your already healthy ego for you to be told such things too often,' he said, with a grin. He got to his feet, patting her on her shoulder. 'But you will perhaps want to redo your make-up before we have to head back to the house. Shall I make us a cup of tea while you repair the damage?'

'That would be lovely,' Mary nodded, already reaching into her handbag. She called out to him as he went to fill their kettle. 'Tom, why are you here? I thought you were at the dealership today.'

'I was, but Henry had everything under control with our buyer. When he took him for lunch, I begged off to come and finish up some work here. And I'm glad I did now.'

'So am I.' Mary paused. 'You won't say anything to Henry, will you? About my little moment here this afternoon?'

'I won't say anything to anyone,' Tom responded. 'This can be our secret as long as you promise me one thing.'

'And what would that be?' Mary asked, feeling unaccountably nervous.

'Promise me you won't bottle this all up and keep it to yourself. I meant it when I said I'm here to support you.'

Mary felt the tension leech from her shoulders. 'I promise.'

Tom gazed thoughtfully at her then nodded, apparently satisfied that she meant it. 'Right. There'll be a cup of tea coming right up in a few minutes then. Everything looks better after a cup of tea.'

'Tom, wait,' she said as he turned to leave the room. He stopped and looked back at her. 'I'm sorry. For this morning. For pestering you about your letters. It's none of my business. I accept that now.'

Tom nodded and gave her a small smile. 'Apology accepted.'

Mary breathed a sigh of relief as he disappeared into the small room that acted as their office kitchen, reflecting that Henry had been completely right, she did hate it when Tom was cross with her. It felt good to be forgiven.

She took another look in her mirror, grimacing at the sight that gazed back at her. She sighed and began to do what she could to make herself look like she hadn't spent the afternoon in floods of tears, all the while listening to Tom humming in the other room as he filled the kettle and set it to boil.