At breakfast, Mary sat opposite Tom, feeling like her skin couldn't contain her. She was both excited and unsettled, delighted he would be back in the office with her but terrified she wouldn't be able to keep her distance from him and it would send him running back to the dealership.

'What time are you leaving for York today, Tom?' Robert asked, dropping a sugar lump into his tea. 'I have a meeting there today, so I was thinking perhaps I could travel in with you and perhaps we could have luncheon together.'

Mary paused in the midst of buttering her toast, suddenly anxious that Tom would change his mind about coming to the office.

'Ah, I'm not going to York today, Robert. I'm working at the estate office,' Tom replied, looking apologetically at his father-in-law.

'Really? Oh, that's splendid!' Robert said, his face creasing into a big smile. 'I was only saying to Mary the other day that it feels like you are seldom there these days. I worry that she's doing the lion's share of the work.'

'And I told you, Papa, that that's simply not true. Tom has been more than pulling his weight even if he's not been in the office,' Mary reminded her father.

'Yes, you did, and I apologise, Tom, for doubting your commitment to Downton. It just seems peculiar to think of you doing estate work away from the estate. It's all a bit modern for me.'

'No apologies necessary,' Tom said, genially. 'I'm sorry I can't drive you.'

'Oh, don't give it a second thought. Stark can take me, that is what we pay him for. It's rather nice to see you back in the office with Mary. It's like you're back in your natural habitat,' Robert replied, smiling contentedly at them both.

Mary glanced across the table at Tom, her stomach somersaulting as he met her eyes briefly.

Barrow came forward, holding a silver tray at her father's elbow. 'Today's post, my lord.'

'Thank you, Barrow,' Robert said, picking up the pile of envelopes and inspecting them. 'Oh, here we are, your daily letter has arrived, Tom.'

Mary watched, jealousy piercing her, as Tom took the proffered letter, tucking it into his jacket pocket. She consoled herself with the thought that those letters would soon stop arriving once Tom had written to Miss Smith to end their correspondence as he was bound to do in the next few days.

Tom set a cup of tea on Mary's desk before taking his drink back to his own desk. She gazed at the steaming cup, a smile tugging at her lips, then looked over at him.

'I've missed this.'

'Didn't you drink tea when I wasn't here?' he asked, chuckling. 'Do you not remember how to make it, milady? Because I distinctly remember teaching you how to brew up some years ago now.'

'Of course, I did but it's not the same, drinking tea on my own.'

'You mean you had to make it yourself instead of having someone else do it for you,' Tom said, teasing her.

'Well, yes, partly,' Mary said, having the good grace to acknowledge that it was usually him that made the tea. 'But what I really missed were the conversations we used to have when it was time for a tea break. It was just another huge reminder that you weren't here anymore.'

'Well, I'm back now, so what do you want to talk about?' he said, settling himself more comfortably in his chair.

Mary smiled at him, impishly, quirking an eyebrow. 'Did you sleep well last night?'

'I did,' he replied with a knowing grin. 'Eventually.'

'Me too. Eventually.'

They gazed across the office at each other, and Mary felt butterflies fluttering inside her. Tom caught his lip between his teeth, a small act she found herself focusing on, feeling her mouth go dry.

'I think we should probably not talk about that, though,' he said, his voice low.

'You're probably right,' Mary agreed, even though she really, really wanted to know more. Instead, she changed the subject. 'I see you got another letter today.'

Tom's face closed down a little, reluctant to talk about this particular subject. 'Yes.'

'Are you going to tell her to stop writing to you now?' Mary asked, confident she knew the answer but needing the reassurance of hearing him say it.

Instead, Tom looked quizzically at her. 'No. Why would I?'

Mary frowned at him, puzzled that he should even ask the question. 'Because of this,' she said, waving her hand backwards and forwards between them.

'But this – whatever this is – has no bearing on my correspondence with Lucy,' he said, giving her a strange look.

She stared at him in confusion. 'Of course, it does.'

'Why?'

'Why?' she echoed.

'Yes, why?'

'Because of the way we feel about each other.'

'Mary, it doesn't matter how we might feel about each other,' Tom said slowly almost as if he were talking to a child. 'Nothing can ever come of it.'

Mary flushed. 'I know that.'

'Do you?' he asked, softly, looking slightly concerned.

'Yes. I'm not an idiot,' she snapped, feeling embarrassed.

'Then why would you think I'd ask Lucy to stop writing to me?'

Mary stared at him, a horribly familiar hollow feeling blooming in her chest. 'You mean you're going to let her continue to think there's still a possibility of something happening between you?'

Tom looked uncomfortable, but he didn't back down. 'Yes. Because there is.'

'But…'

Tom gazed at her, saying nothing, waiting for her to finish.

'But how can you… isn't it unkind of you to let her think that you care for her?'

He regarded her steadily. 'I do care for her.'

Mary felt his words like a physical blow. 'But… yesterday… you said… you said you'd been thinking about me all the time.'

'I have.'

'But if you've been thinking about me, how can you say you care for her?'

'Because I do. I've still been writing to her. It was often the only thing that distracted me from thinking about you.'

Mary looked down, struggling to take in what he was saying before meeting his worried gaze. 'I don't understand, Tom. Are you saying you have feelings for both of us?'

Tom looked even more uncomfortable. 'Honestly? Yes, I do.'

Mary stared at him, her breath stopping in her chest. 'Do you… do you love her?'

Tom bit his lip again and Mary felt the strong pull of attraction even as this whole conversation was making her feel like he was tearing her heart out of her chest. 'I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say that I love her, but I am very fond of her.'

Mary tilted her head, trying to process that. 'But you love me?'

Tom shook his head, making her heart clench horribly. 'Don't ask me that, Mary. I can't… I can't say those words to you.'

'Why not? If it's true,' she challenged, even though she knew the answer.

He looked at her despairingly. 'You know why not.'

'Henry,' Mary said tonelessly as Tom stared mutely at her. 'And if there were no Henry? What would you say then?'

'You know what I would say,' he answered, beginning to sound a bit ragged. 'But I'm not going to say it because there is Henry.'

'But if there weren't,' she persisted. 'Would you break it off with Miss Smith then?'

Tom gazed at her. 'If I could have you, you mean?'

She nodded, holding her breath.

'Yes. I would.'

Mary exhaled a great sigh of relief that he would choose her.

'But I can't have you, can I?' he said, softly, sadly. 'Because you're married. To Henry.'

Mary stared across the room at him, the awfulness of the situation crashing down on her.

Tom pressed his lips together, a desolate look on his face. 'You can't expect me to spend the rest of my life alone watching you and Henry live your lives together. I can't do that. Not anymore. And it wouldn't be fair of you to ask that of me. That's why I will continue writing to Lucy and why I'll let it play out between me and her in whatever way it will.'

'No,' Mary whispered. 'You don't mean that.'

'I do.'

'You'd marry her?' she asked, shakily. 'Even though you love me?'

Tom gazed sadly at her. 'You're another man's wife, Mary. You're not mine to love.'

Mary swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked skyward, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. 'I don't... I don't think I can sit back and watch you build a life with her.'

'It's not Lucy that's the problem, though, is it?' Tom said, gently. 'You would object to any woman I began a relationship with, wouldn't you?'

Mary felt the truth of that in her bones. 'So, I just have to accept it? That's what you're saying?'

'It might come to nothing, Lucy and I, but if it does progress then, yes, you'll have to accept it.'

'And if I can't?' Mary asked, knowing that was a strong possibility.

Tom paused, eyeing her carefully. 'Then we may have to cut ties. If we're both to survive this.'

'Cut ties?' Mary stared at him in horror. 'You mean you'd leave? You'd choose her over… over me?'

'I can't choose you, Mary. That's the whole point. All I can do is try to save myself. Don't you see that?' Tom said desperately, willing her to see it from his perspective.

'And she's your salvation, is she?' she asked, bitterly.

'Perhaps not. But she doesn't have the power to break me,' he said, quietly.

Mary gazed at him, her heart cracking open. 'And I do?'

He didn't respond, just held her gaze, letting her see the truth of it on his face.

'I don't want to break you, Tom,' Mary whispered.

He nodded, slowly. 'I know you don't. Not deliberately. That's why we have to try to get past this or at least learn how to live with it.'

'And how do we do that?' she asked, pulling her cooling cup of tea towards her as she tried to marshal her thoughts.

'We'll find a way. We will. We just need to get past this stage with all the… the…'

'Desperate desire to tear each other's clothes off?' Mary supplied, arching an eyebrow at him over the rim of her cup.

Tom gave a small, surprised laugh. 'Well, I think I was going to say attraction but, yes, that.'

Mary sipped her tea, giving herself time to think. 'So those are my choices then, are they? Watch you start a life with another woman or lose you completely. The devil or the deep blue sea.'

He looked at her sadly. 'I think so, yes. I can't see another way out of this.'

Mary chewed her lip, considering the bleak choice facing her. 'I'd rather have a life of frustration with you in it than a life of any kind without you. Either way, it will be painful, but at least one way, I will still have my best friend.'

'It might not be as bad as all that. Nothing is going to change any time soon with me and Lucy, and I promise I will warn you if it does. I won't spring anything on you,' Tom said earnestly, trying to make things better.' And by then, maybe these new feelings between us will have faded.'

'Maybe,' Mary said, thinking privately that she couldn't imagine ever looking at him again and not wanting to lay her hands all over him.

'We'll get through this, Mary, we will. One way or another,' Tom said, determination in his voice.

Mary nodded even though she couldn't see for one minute how they could. But she would try because not having him in her life was unthinkable. She raised her cup and sipped her tea because, for the life of her, she didn't know what to say to him.