Thank you for the reviews, you lovely people! I'm glad you're enjoying my story. You might recognise a couple of lines where I've borrowed some dialogue from the show and used it in a different setting. There is more steamy business halfway through the second part of this chapter.

After the Russians and assorted guests left the Abbey, Tom waited until Mary went up to change for dinner before slipping into her room and closing the door behind him.

She turned around, staring at him in shock. 'What are you doing? Are you mad? Mama and Papa are down the hall! Anna will be here any minute!'

'If anyone asks, we'll tell them we were talking about the children. What was Tony doing here?'

'He wanted to talk about setting a date for our wedding.'

'What?' said Tom, goggling at her. 'I thought you said you'd turned him down.'

'No,' said Mary, calmly. 'I said I wasn't going to marry him. I didn't say I'd told him that yet.'

'So, he doesn't know he's on his way out?'

'No, not yet.'

'Mary!'

'What? I simply haven't had a chance to tell him of my decision.'

'There was no opportunity to tell him this afternoon?'

'Certainly not. If I wasn't entertaining Russians, I was fending off Granny and her insistence on my setting a wedding date at the earliest opportunity to save me from certain scandal and being socially ostracised.'

Tom narrowed his eyes at her. 'The Dowager knows about your sketching trip?'

'Unfortunately, yes. I was subjected to rather an uncomfortable conversation with her about it. Spratt saw me and Tony coming out of the hotel in Liverpool and couldn't resist the urge to tattle. Needless to say, Granny heartily disapproves. Apparently, in her day, a young lady of good family would never be so vulgar as to feel physical attraction towards a man. It's a good job she doesn't know about you and me. I think I might have had to ring for smelling salts.'

'Don't even joke about it, Mary.' Tom shuddered slightly at the idea of the Dowager knowing anything about his recent antics with Mary.

Mary chortled, highly amused at his reaction. 'Why, Tom, as a man who's faced the Black and Tans, I thought you might be made of sterner stuff when it came to Granny.'

'Even the Black and Tans would quail in front of the Dowager. So, when are you going to tell Tony? I confess I feel a little like I've cuckolded the man.'

Mary looked affronted at that. 'Well, you most certainly have not. I am not his wife and I never will be. If you must know, I'm going to London tomorrow and I will tell him on Friday morning.'

'When will you be back?'

'Anna and I will get the train back that afternoon.'

'Then perhaps you can tell me all about it then.'

'And what will you be doing while I'm away? Catching up with Miss Bunting?'

Tom slanted an odd look at her. 'Why would I be catching up with Miss Bunting?'

'Oh, I don't know. You were quite outspoken in defence of her today when she upset the Russians.'

'I know she spoke out of turn, but I don't think she meant to insult them.'

'Tom, don't be naïve. She didn't care whether she was insulting them or not. She just wanted to shove her opinions in their faces. She gave no thought to their circumstances or their feelings whatsoever!'

'Just because her politics differ from yours doesn't mean she's a bad person.'

'No, but her lack of manners and consideration for others do not suggest she's a good person.'

They glared at each other for a moment, divided by the spectre of Miss Bunting.

'Well,' said Mary, breaking the tense silence. 'I think that might have been our first fight.'

'We've argued before.'

'Yes, but not since we… added a new dimension to our relationship.'

Tom's expression softened, the tension dissipating from his shoulders. 'This doesn't have to affect that, Mary.'

Mary gave a tiny nod, feeling a small knot in her chest unravel. 'Good. Now, you'd better get out of here before Anna arrives and catches you in my room.'

Tom hesitated then took a few strides to close the gap between them, pulling her into his arms. Mary laid her hands on his lapels, looking at him in surprise. He bent his head and gave her a gentle, lingering kiss before taking his leave. Mary watched him go, her fingers on her lips.

Friday night

Tom slouched in the chair in his bedroom, staring into the fire, contemplating Sarah Bunting's disastrous appearance at dinner, which culminated in Robert storming out of his own dining room. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, cursing himself for allowing Cora to push him into inviting Sarah to dinner against his better judgment.

The quiet knock on his door startled him, but he relaxed when Mary appeared, swiftly closing the door behind her. She was dressed for bed, her hair loose.

'I wondered if you might be drowning your sorrows,' she said, walking towards him. She plucked the glass from his hand and took a sip.

'I shouldn't have invited her.'

'No, probably not. Although you did give Granny quite the evening.' Mary handed the glass back and watched him swallow the last of the whiskey. 'Why do you go on with her?'

Tom hesitated, his gaze fixed on the fire, before answering. 'Since Sybil died, I've forgotten what it's like to be with someone who feels about things like I do. That's why. Or that's been why.

Mary was silent, once again feeling the loss of her sister. She pressed her hand to Tom's shoulder. 'She's not good enough for you, Tom. Not even nearly.'

'She's not a bad person, Mary.'

'I suspect we'll have to agree to disagree when it comes to our opinions of Miss Bunting.'

'Don't worry, I shan't be inviting her to the Abbey again.'

Mary squeezed his shoulder then wandered over to perch on his bed.

'I thought I'd come and tell you how it went with Tony. Anna and I were back so late, I didn't have a chance to find you earlier.'

Tom stood up, coming over to sit on his bed, propping his back against the headboard. Mary swung her legs up onto the bed, settling herself beside him.

'How did he take it?'

'Not well. He refused to believe I meant it. In fact, he said something that's rather stuck with me.'

'What did he say?'

'He said, "I refuse to believe that a woman like you could give herself to a man without first being certain he was the one."'

They sat, shoulder to shoulder, in silence, both contemplating that.

'I could hardly tell him he wasn't the only one I've given myself to,' Mary said, quietly.

Tom glanced at her face, then swung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. 'He's just hurt, Mary.'

Mary dropped her head onto his shoulder. 'I confess I've been dwelling on that statement all day.' She paused, then continued in a small voice. 'Do you think me the most dreadful strumpet, Tom?'

He looked down at her, suddenly angry at Tony for making her doubt herself. 'No, I don't.'

'Are you just saying that to make me feel better?'

Tom tucked his finger under her chin, tipping her face up to make her look at him. 'I think you're a beautiful woman who knows what she wants and what she doesn't want and isn't prepared to compromise to make someone else feel better.'

Mary stared at him, then leaned up to kiss him hard on the mouth. Tom responded, sliding his hand under her jaw to better control the kiss. Mary let him, secretly thrilling to the assertive way he kissed her.

Eventually, wonderful though the kissing was, it wasn't enough. She reached up, tugging him down on to her. 'Touch me, Tom,' she begged between kisses.

Tom slid his hand down her body, then began inching her nightdress up. Mary shivered as his fingers brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh. He caressed her gently, getting closer to that special spot between her legs until suddenly he was there, dipping into her wetness and circling that little bundle of nerves.

Mary whimpered as Tom stroked her skilfully, slowly and steadily building the pleasure. 'Oh, God,' she moaned, turning her face into his shoulder. And then he was kissing down her neck, mouthing her breasts through the silky material of her nightdress, travelling down her body to settle himself between her legs.

She stared down at him, her eyes wide. 'What are you doing?'

Tom grinned up at her then he leaned forward and licked her in her most intimate place.

Mary fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. Tom's face was between her legs and his tongue was doing all kinds of marvellous things down there and it was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. It was… it was simply exquisite.

Tom licked her gently, he licked her forcefully. He made long strokes, short strokes, jabbing strokes. He sucked on her, he nibbled on her, he feasted on her, and Mary loved every single second of it. Several times she found herself trying to scramble away from him, the pleasure too much to bear, but he placed his hand on her stomach or held her hips to keep her in place and continued right on with his ministrations.

'Oh, God, Tom, I'm going to… I'm going to…' she tried to warn him but couldn't finish the sentence.

Tom held on to her tight as she shoved her hand in her mouth to muffle her cries and shuddered to completion. He got off the bed, shucking his clothes as Mary lay there panting and twitching with aftershocks, and then he was back, covering her body with his.

'Is Mrs Stopes' device in place?'

She nodded, unable to speak, and then he was sliding easily inside her, a groan escaping him as she tightened around him. Mary looked at his face, his lips and chin glistening with her wetness, and suddenly she was kissing him, sloppy, wet kisses, feeling terribly wanton at tasting herself on him.

Tom began to move, slowly at first then gathering speed. Mary did her best to keep up with him, raising her hips and hanging on tight to his shoulders, and then it was her turn to hold him as he grunted into her neck and came.

Mary kept her arms around him until their breathing evened out. Tom lifted his head and kissed her gently before rising to go to the bowl and pitcher of water in the corner of his room. He splashed his face, drying it on the towel, before returning with the damp washcloth to wipe gently between her legs and pull her nightgown into place.

Mary watched him take care of her, barely able to move. He put the cloth aside then belted on his dressing gown before coming back to the bed and lying on his side next to her, studying her profile.

'Nobody's ever done that to me before,' she told him, staring up at the ceiling.

'Did you like it?'

Mary turned her head to look him dead in the eye. 'It was the most incredible feeling I've ever had.'

Tom smiled, looking like the cat that got the cream. 'Then I'll make sure to do it again.'

'I pray to God that you will,' she said fervently.

'I thought you weren't a believer.'

'I would believe in the existence of fairies if I thought it would make that happen again.'

Tom chuckled. 'Luckily for you, neither God nor fairies have any influence on this situation.'

'Then I shall have to make sure I butter you up sufficiently to warrant a repeat performance in the not-too-distant future.'

'I'm sure that can be arranged. Although, I won't say no to a bit of buttering up.'

'I'm sure you won't. I should really be getting back to my own room, but I'm not sure my legs are working yet.' Mary rolled on to her side to face him. 'Tom, I want to thank you.'

'For what?'

'For taking the leap and suggesting this arrangement. I think… well, I don't want you to think I'm being overly dramatic – I mean, I'm not Edith – but it feels rather like you've saved me from going mad.'

Tom smiled broadly at her, his eyes crinkling with amusement. 'That's at least a little dramatic, Mary. I'm sure it wasn't that bad.'

'It certainly felt that way. My itch was driving me absolutely demented and you've fixed that for me. It's given me back some peace of mind.'

'Well, you're welcome. It's been my pleasure.'

'Oh, it's most assuredly been my pleasure too. Although, in some ways, I feel I've swapped one problem for another one.'

'Oh, yes?'

'You've taken away the frustration, but I still spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about sex. Only now, I'm thinking about how I can get you alone to have my wicked way with you.'

Tom grinned at her, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 'Perhaps we can put our heads together on that one.'

Mary leaned in to kiss him, her face wreathed in smiles. 'Marvellous. I do so enjoy having a partner in crime. Now, it's about time I crept back to my own bed like the shameless strumpet I am.'

'You're not a strumpet, Mary. Forget about what Tony said.'

'Oh, I think I probably am. But you've made me awfully glad to be one. Tony can go to the devil.'

Tom smiled, relieved she was no longer upset by Gillingham's words. 'Good. Now, skedaddle. We both need to catch up on some sleep. You've quite worn me out these last few days.'

Mary kissed him again before sliding gracefully off the bed. 'I don't believe that's true. I'm quite impressed with your stamina. Goodnight, Tom. Sleep well.'

'Goodnight, Mary. Sweet dreams.'

Mary turned at the door to give him a playful smile. 'Oh, don't worry about that, I think you've made quite sure my dreams will be very sweet tonight.'

Tom grinned to himself, settling back into his bed as she disappeared out of the door, feeling a warm glow for having managed to stop her dwelling on Tony's words. He hated it when Mary doubted herself. 'Good work, Branson,' he muttered to himself before switching out the light.