The hotel bathroom was as sumptuously appointed as the rest of their rooms were. Robert, however, took in nothing as me moved to sit on the edge of the tub, his manhood so hard it was painful. It seemed easier to him to relieve the tension himself, rather than frighten Cora with his ardor.
Or, worse yet, fail to perform and leave her even more confused.
Her voice at the door startled him, even has he drew his hand quickly over his shaft, trying to get it done with quickly. That she thought him ill was a blessing, as it meant she didn't fully understand what was happening. He couldn't quite form words as he continued to bring himself to release, though she tried at least once more to speak to him. An image of her face, the scent of her perfume, the sense memory of her folds against his palm was all he needed to finish the job and he spent into his palm.
Relief flooded as tension drained from him and he set about cleaning himself up and making himself presentable. It would be time - quite soon - for them to lie together again. It would be time - quite soon - for him to move past his insecurities and self-loathing for the position he'd put them both in - and work to create an heir.
He exited the bathroom to the sight of Cora sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression melting into relief at the sight of him. Her innocence, and the fortitude required for her to enter into this most unholy contract, drew pain to his stomach. Her smile was sweet and shy and he thought perhaps it could wait just another bit more.
Robert hovered in the sitting room as he waited for Cora's maid to finish with her hair. He had been summarily dismissed by his wife and her cool-eyed maid not long after they were finally settled and unpacked in the room. And though he had urged them to move quickly so that they might make their reservation, it seemed both women were content to take their time.
The lull gave Robert time to think, something he had hoped to avoid at all costs. A few days before the wedding his mother approached him and entreated, again, that he rethink his decision to marry an American. She spoke plainly, some might have deemed it cruel, as she explained how Cora was simply not built for their life. She was too much energy and not enough substance. When the Countess' pleas fell on deaf ears she changed tactics and pointed out that it was terribly obvious that he desired the young woman.
Her parting shot had been that she believed her son above marrying for such base urges, and wasn't it possible a gentle soul like Cora Levinson deserved to be more than her husband's plaything?
Now his mother's words haunted Robert. He had everything he had sought; had played through like a master tactician. He had incredible wealth, neatly tied in an entail. He had a wife who behaved as though he hung the moon, who was articulate and gentle. He had free access to the body he spent months lusting over.
And he had a large helping of guilt and awkwardness for his troubles. He checked the clock once more, fidgeted in his seat, and poured himself another drink hoping the scotch would ease his tickling conscience.
When Cora did finally emerge, Robert could hardly summon the irritation to berate her. She stood shyly in the threshold, her entire self backlit by the flickering light from the bedroom behind her. The gold halo glimmered around her and she looked angelic, dressed as she was for their night out. Her alabaster shoulders were bare, the neck of her gown gathered on her right shoulder with a bunch of pale flowers. The bodice clung to her curves before flaring into a fuller skirt adorned with the same silk roses. She seemed to glow in the lamplight, the yards of satin shimmering gold. Her eyes were downcast as she waited for his acknowledgement and he became aware of standing with his mouth agape.
"You dress is missing something." Robert spoke rather lamely, and was rewarded with Cora's wince. A mere few days in the presence of his mother had already made his wife unusually sensitive to perceived criticism. Instead of attempting to explain Robert crossed the sitting room and produced a small box. He opened it with a flourish to reveal a string of lovely black pearls. Cora's eyes widened with glee and she immediately turned, indicating that he should put them on. Robert stepped closer and draped the necklace around her neck, and his fingers brushed her nape as he fumbled with the clasp. He felt her shudder beneath his hands and she tilted her head just slightly. Her eyelids fluttered and a blush stained her cheeks and down her neck. Without consciously realizing it Robert followed the trail of color to her decolletage.
"We should go," Robert attempted to speak, but the words came out a whisper. Cora responded with another tilt of her head and leaned forward. Her perfume filled Robert's senses. Her lips brushed his cheek chastely and he thought she whispered her thanks before pulling away.
If the intention of the honeymoon was to give the newlywed couple a chance to get to know one another without the stifling presence of family, up to that point it had failed. However by nightfall, with only one another for company in a city filled with life and lights, they began to find their footing.
The carriage ride to dinner had only been slightly awkward as Robert gave Cora some insight into the sights they were seeing. The scotch had indeed loosened him a bit, and he seemed nearly jovial as they rode through the cobbled streets to their destination. Cora described to Robert the city of New Orleans, and how it had the same feeling of freedom as Paris. She had only been once, and only for a few days, but she'd been captivated by the loose and easy accents, the smell of the ocean, and the bright life it seemed to contain.
"I wanted to travel when I was very young, because my father went so many places on business. He came home with stories of people and places I could only dream of." She explained, staring out the isinglass window. She started when Robert's fingers slid into her palm and didn't turn as she gripped his hand. "When mother suggested England, I was so excited. A new world, a new life. An adventure."
Robert stayed quiet, intent to watch the reflection of Paris in his wife's eyes.
"I know you don't love me, Robert." Cora continued, and Robert reeled as if struck but she kept his hand between hers. "At least not yet. But I don't regret this adventure.I don't regret my choices."
Robert thought of Downton, his legacy, his mother. His mind hobbled over the difficulties and tribulations ahead of Cora, the harsh realities she had yet to face. He thought of judgement and entails and the eventual bitterness of an aristocratic marriage. And he thought of his thoughtlessness in tying her to him and his encumbered life, this girl who looked at him with benevolent, shining eyes. He thought of the expectations of an heir, his family's disapproval, and his own failings in the bedroom. Of course she didn't regret her choices now.
But you will, he concluded sadly.
Couple of things - the black pearls were a nod to "The American Heiress" which was pretty much published Downton fanfic. ;) Second, I got bit at work today which makes this pretty much torture. So there is more but I cut this section short because the rest hasn't been read through at all or even vaguely edited (this section wasn't well edited either apologies). It also means until I can touch my keyboard without crying, the conclusion is on hold. I'm sorry. But I'm wounded!
