Outside the office door, Mary took a deep breath, trying desperately to quell the butterflies rampaging around her tummy.

Tom had acted perfectly normally at breakfast, not like a man who'd virtually propositioned her the night before. Mary, on the other hand, had been clumsier than her usual precise self, dropping her knife and knocking over the salt.

When Tom asked her if she wanted to walk down to the office with him, she'd begged off, telling him she had to make a telephone call first, unable to contemplate strolling through the estate with him as if he hadn't suggested they go to bed together. Tom had just smiled at her and said he'd see her later. It was all Mary could do not to blush like a schoolgirl.

Now, it was time to face him.

She squared her shoulders and opened the door, walking in as if she didn't have a care in the world. Tom was at his desk, head down, making notes on a report. The butterflies did a loop-the-loop in her stomach. Mary resolutely ignored them.

'Hello,' she said, making a beeline for her desk. 'You look busy.'

'Yes, I'm just reading through the proposition from the developer. I've made some notes of things we need to talk about.'

Mary settled into her seat, focusing on taking her hat off while her nerves jangled and her heart banged in her chest. 'Right, well, speaking of things we need to talk about and… er, propositions, I suppose we need to address what happened last night.'

Tom chucked his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair. 'Ah, so you're getting straight to the point then.'

'You know me, Tom, I don't like to beat around the bush.'

'No, you don't. All right, let's talk about it.'

Mary put her hat down and raised her head to stare directly at him. 'Did you mean it? Or had you simply had too much port after dinner?'

'I wasn't drunk, Mary. I meant it.'

Silence reigned for a minute as they stared at each other before Mary managed to find words again. 'Well, it's good of you to take pity on me, but–'

'It's not pity.'

Mary flushed, pinned in place by Tom's steady gaze. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Tom sighed. 'Look, if you don't want to, just say so. I'm not going to ravish you against your will. It was just an idea. I know it's not an orthodox idea, so I won't be offended if you say no.'

Mary's butterflies rioted at the thought of him ravishing her. 'No,' she said automatically then caught sight of his face. 'I mean, yes... I mean no, I know you won't… if I don't… I mean… Oh, God, Tom, I…'

She stopped as he stared at her, obviously trying to make sense of what she'd just said. Or not said. Mary took a deep breath and started again.

'I know you won't do anything I don't want you to do, but I just… I don't know how we could make it work. I mean, you're my brother-in-law!'

'I'm not asking you to marry me, Mary.'

'I know that. But what are you suggesting? Do you want us to have a… a tryst? A love affair? What?'

'You can call it whatever you like, whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm not one of your suitors. I'm not trying to make you fall in love with me. I just thought we're both in the same boat, we've both got an itch we'd like scratching, so why not scratch each other's?'

Mary sat back wondering how Tom could be so matter of fact and calm about all this when she'd spent all night stewing on it. She tried again. 'But isn't there someone else you might like to get to… to scratch your itch?'

'Like who?'

'Miss Bunting.'

Tom snorted. 'No, I don't think so.'

'She'd be a less complicated choice than me.'

'I'm not so sure about that. She hates the family and the family hate her.'

'I don't hate her!' Mary protested.

Tom raised an eyebrow and gave her a look. Mary relented. 'Well, yes, all right, she's not my favourite person and Papa most certainly dislikes her, but if she's important to you, we'd learn to live with her.'

Tom scoffed outright at that. 'No, you wouldn't. Anyway, even if I'd once thought there might be a possibility of something with Miss Bunting, I know now that there isn't.'

Mary fiddled with the pen set on her desk, trying to think.

Tom broke the silence. 'Mary, the decision is yours.'

'Well, that's not entirely fair, is it?' she snapped.

Tom looked taken aback. 'Why not?'

'Because then all the pressure is on me!'

There was a shocked silence before Tom replied. 'I'm not putting pressure on you, Mary. If you think that I am, then let's forget I ever said anything. I certainly didn't mean for you to feel that way.'

Mary cringed, horrified that she'd made him feel he was bullying her. 'No, I'm sorry, Tom. That's not what I meant. You're not putting pressure on me. I am.'

'Why?'

'Because I worry about what would happen if anyone finds out, if we could survive the scandal. Because I wonder how we can make it work. Because we're family and you're my best friend and I couldn't bear to ruin all of that.'

'Then let's talk about that,' Tom said, reasonably. 'Firstly, no-one else needs to know. It'll be our business and no-one else's. If we're careful, nobody will find out. We live together, we work together, we raise our children together. We already spend so much time together, nobody will notice anything unusual. And if nobody knows, there won't be any scandal. Secondly, we won't ruin anything. Nothing else will change. We'll just be… adding another dimension to our relationship.'

Mary huffed out a breath. 'You make it sound so easy.'

'It can be if you let it.'

'And what if one of us wants to stop?'

'Then we make a pact, here and now, that if one of us wants to stop, we stop. We stop and we carry on like before.'

'Don't you think that's a little naïve, Tom?'

'Maybe. But we're not in love, are we? We care for each other, but we're not in love. If it's just a physical thing, just a bit of mutual scratching of itches, then neither of us will get hurt.'

Mary was silent, thinking, weighing up the pros and cons, trying to drown out the clamouring of her body with the voice of reason in her head.

Tom's voice was gentle, but with a hint of hopefulness in it. 'Look, I'll be honest. I want to do this. But I'll not put any pressure on you. It's your decision. I suppose in the end it all boils down to whether you want to do this too. With me.'

Mary lifted her gaze to meet his, sure her face was on fire, but it was time to be honest. 'Yes,' she said, crisply. 'I rather think I do.'

Tom's face broke into a smile, that heat from last night flaring again in his eyes. Mary smiled back at him, her butterflies happily flying free. But that didn't mean there weren't still things to discuss.

'But where would we… you know. I mean, it's hardly like we can start sharing a room.'

Tom laughed. 'No, not if we want to keep it quiet. But you have your own room and so do I. And I don't have a valet, so there's no-one else coming and going in my room. And there are other options.'

'You mean a hotel?'

'If you like. Or there's here or- '

'Here?!' Mary squawked in a most unladylike fashion. 'You mean in the office?'

Tom grinned at her, devilry lurking in his eyes. 'You don't always need a bed, Mary.'

'Well,' said Mary, swallowing hard. 'That's rather modern of you, Tom. I'm beginning to think I don't know you as well as I thought I did.'

Tom smirked. 'You're about to know me a whole lot better than ever before if we do this.'

Mary arched a finely sculpted eyebrow at him. 'If?'

He grinned back at her. 'When.'

Feeling rather forward, Mary broached the next question on her mental list. 'And when exactly will we add this – what did you call it? – "new dimension" to our relationship?'

Looking irritatingly unflappable, Tom lobbed the question back at her. 'When would be convenient for you, milady?'

Mary thought quickly. 'Tomorrow night. Edith, Rose and Mama are going to London tomorrow. Papa has one of his Lord Lieut things and will be staying in York. Granny and Isobel are dining at Dickie's, so it will just be the two of us at home. Goodness, I feel like quite the scarlet woman, arranging an assignation with my lover.'

Tom chuckled, picking up his pen again. 'Your wish is my command. Tomorrow night it is.'

As he bent his head back to his work, Mary gazed at him, wondering just how they'd got to this point.