Mary watched silently in the mirror as Anna fixed her hair. She felt wretched and exhausted, having spent all day avoiding Tom and kicking herself for her outburst that morning.

Why hadn't she just kept her mouth shut? What had possessed her? Not only had she confessed her sin with Tony and told Tom she couldn't stop thinking about sex, she'd even inadvertently managed to let him know he himself had featured in some of her lewder thoughts. Her own brother-in-law! She'd never be able to look him in the eye again.

'Is everything all right, milady?' Anna's soft Yorkshire voice pulled her back into the moment.

'Yes, of course, it is, Anna. Why wouldn't it be?'

Her maid gazed at her in concern and Mary's irritation flared back up. Why couldn't people just mind their own business?

'You just seem a little out of sorts. Is there something I can get you?'

'No, I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Just a little tired.' And now Mary felt guilty for snapping when Anna was obviously just worried about her.

'If you're sure, milady. You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you.'

'Honestly, Anna, I'm fine. There's nothing bothering me at all.' Mary busied herself with the bracelet on her wrist, avoiding Anna's eyes. While Anna was a godsend, sometimes she could be too shrewd for Mary's liking.

There was a knock at her door and Mary seized on the interruption. 'Come in!'

Except the interruption turned out to be Tom. Of course, it did. Because the universe was conspiring against her.

'Can I come in?' he said, standing in her bedroom door.

No, thought Mary. 'Of course,' she heard herself say.

He walked in, impeccably dressed for dinner in white tie, but carrying her handbag. 'You left this in the office this morning.'

'Oh, yes, so I did. Thank you. Just leave it on the bed.' And now you can go, she willed him silently. But telepathy didn't appear to be Tom's strong suit as he put the bag down and stood there looking at her for what felt like eons. Damn it. 'Was there something else?'

Tom glanced between her and Anna, clearly wanting to say something but uncomfortable about Anna being there. 'Yes, I wanted to talk to you about this morning.'

Mary didn't answer him, her brain skittering into panic mode lest he start berating her about her behaviour in front of Anna.

In the awkward silence, Anna flicked her gaze between Tom and Mary. 'Would you like me to leave, milady?'

'No, I need to finish getting ready for dinner,' Mary jumped in quickly. 'I'm sure whatever Mr Branson has to say will wait, won't it, Tom?'

She gazed at him, silently pleading with him to just leave it be and go.

'Yes,' he said eventually. 'It will keep. I'll see you downstairs.'

Finally, finally, he turned and left her room. Mary watched him go in the mirror, feeling her pulse jump wildly. When she turned her attention back to her reflection, she saw two spots of colour high on her cheeks.

'Have you and Mr Branson had a falling out, milady?' asked Anna, patting Mary's hair into place.

'No, not at all. Not really.'

Anna said nothing, just kept looking at Mary in the mirror as she finished her work. Mary looked away first.

'I had a slight outburst this morning. Nothing to write home about really. It was hardly anything at all.' Mary could hear herself beginning to waffle. What was wrong with her today? Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut?

'Well, it was good of him to bring your bag back. You must have been in quite the hurry to leave it there.'

'Yes, well, you know me, Anna. There's always rather a lot to do and not enough time to do it.'

Anna turned away to tidy up the items she used for hairdressing and Mary allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Now all she had to do was get through the evening without being cornered by Tom.

Downstairs, Mary thanked her lucky stars that tonight Tom was at the far end of the table, flanked by Granny and Edith. She watched him surreptitiously as he answered questions from her grandmother about the estate and the schoolteacher who had so riled Lord Grantham.

Edith was moodily quiet, pushing her food around her plate. Normally, Mary might have had something biting to say to her about it, but she found herself doing much the same tonight, her appetite nowhere to be found.

'Are you quite all right, darling?' her mother asked her softly from the seat next to her.

'Perfectly, Mama. Just a little tired.'

'You're working too hard, you and Tom both, what with all this business about the building development.'

Mary smiled at her mother, suddenly acutely aware of Tom's eyes on her. 'No, we're fine. It's good to stay busy.'

Cora placed her hand gently on her eldest daughter's arm. 'I know, darling. It keeps your mind from wandering to other things. I'm so proud of you and all you're doing, taking over from Matthew, and working with Tom and your father.'

You wouldn't be proud, Mary thought ruefully, if you knew where my mind was wandering these days. 'Thank you, Mama,' was all she said.

Walking upstairs, Mary silently congratulated herself on having successfully avoided spending any time alone with Tom this evening. On several occasions, he'd come to stand next to her, a solid presence that sent her pulse skittering, but each time, she'd engaged Papa or Granny or someone else in conversation instead. Once, she'd even been forced to find something to talk about with Edith, which was a feat in itself given her sister had been drearier than ever this evening.

As she reached the landing, she heard a soft voice from the shadows.

'You've been avoiding me.'

Mary started. Damn.

'No, I haven't.'

'Liar.'

Mary huffed out a breath, knowing the jig was up. She had to face it head on. Never let it be said Mary Crawley was a coward. 'All right then, yes, I have, but can you really blame me after this morning? I made an absolute fool of myself and I apologise, Tom.'

He moved out of the shadows, coming closer. Mary felt her pulse hitch and tried her level best to ignore it.

'Was anything you said untrue?'

Mary stared over his shoulder, desperately wishing she wasn't having this conversation. 'No.'

'Then you didn't make a fool of yourself. You were just being honest.'

At that, Mary jerked her gaze back to Tom. 'You can't be serious? Of course, I made a fool of myself! All those things I told you. I don't know what came over me.'

'You're frustrated and frustration has to come out somehow.'

Mary goggled at him, horrified they were actually discussing this and on the landing of her family home of all places.

'And I suppose you think that makes it all right, do you?' she hissed, furiously. 'I lost control and I told you private things I should never have uttered to a single soul. I embarrassed myself, Tom. You know it and so do I.'

'You're not the only one who's lost a spouse, Mary,' he told her, his voice infuriatingly calm even as Mary noted a strange heat she'd never seen before in his blue eyes.

'I know that,' she snapped.

Tom kept his eyes fixed on her, unnerving her slightly. 'Then has it occurred to you that you might not be the only one who misses sex?'

Mary's eyes widened, but she found she couldn't speak.

'You said you look at every man who crosses your path,' he continued, keeping his voice low.

Mary nodded, unable to look away.

'You didn't answer when I asked if that included me.'

Mary swallowed, transfixed by Tom's gaze and that strange heat.

'Do you look at me like that, Mary?'

Mary felt the colour rising in her cheeks as he took another step towards her.

'Do you?'

'Yes,' she breathed.

Tom drew even nearer, and Mary's stomach began somersaulting. 'Then maybe we could help each other out.'

Mary's jaw dropped open. That was… unexpected. 'What are you saying?'

Tom was inches away now, tantalisingly close, and Mary found herself intensely aware of him.

His gaze was steady, his voice low, his accent delicious. 'I'm saying maybe neither of us have to be frustrated anymore.'

Mary was stunned. But… but…

Tom leaned in, his lips next to her ear. 'Sleep on it, Mary. We can talk about it tomorrow.'

He kissed her lightly on the cheek. 'Goodnight.'

Mary stood rooted to the spot, watching him go, her hand lifting to the place on her cheek where his lips had brushed her. Sleep on it, indeed. There was no way she was sleeping tonight.