You've hired a new lawyer? At this stage in the game? Wtf, Charles?

He reads the text, running fingers through his hair as Mary shoots him a curious glance.

"Freda," he states, receiving a more than appropriate eye roll from his girlfriend. "Evidently she's not too keen on the fact that I've hired a new lawyer."

Mary pats the spot on the sofa beside her, so he abandons the dinner dishes and plops down right where she offered.

I'm glad you and Elliott received word so quickly. I'll see you in three weeks.

"Outstanding answer," Mary says as he wraps one arm around her. "She honestly has some nerve texting you the way that she does."

He puffs out his cheeks as he exhales.

"She isn't very cordial," he admits, chuckling at the incredulous look staring back at him.

"She's a bitch," Mary states. "And you honestly don't have to respond to anything she sends you. You'd be within your rights to block her number altogether."

His phone vibrates as if on queue.

Jane Brandon of all people. You must be feeling terribly desperate.

"She doesn't like our choice of lawyers," Mary observes with a small smile. "That thrills me."

"Me, too," he grins, kissing the top of her head. "I felt like yesterday's meeting went very well, and Jane sent me an encouraging email earlier today."

"You look less stressed," Mary states.

"I am less stressed," he returns. "Thanks to you and your friend who recommended her."

Matthew's name sits on the tip of her tongue, and she breathes in, garnering the courage to let it slide off and rid her of the unnecessary guilt she's been carrying. But just as a sentence begins to take shape, Charles's phone vibrates again.

If this is a scare tactic on your part, it isn't working.

"Don't reply to that," Mary advises. "The fact that she sent it at all means she's terrified."

He grins before biting his lower lip.

"Do you really think so?'

"Yes," she hums. "I really think so." She burrows into his side, revelling in his warmth, his clean, spicy scent, and she kisses his freshly shaven cheek, adoring the way his dimple forms beneath her lips.

"Watch it, your majesty," he breathes. "We need to leave in less than an hour, and your lips hovering on my skin like that are giving me ideas."

"What a coincidence," she returns. "I've had ideas all morning."

He chuckles before leaning over to claim her mouth, to trail his tongue over her lips, to probe, suck and kiss her senseless until she's pressed into the cushions, half-breathless and more than a little turned on.

"Your ideas will be the death of me," he whispers before finding her spot near her ear. Something between a low growl and a moan rises up and out of her, and he shudders, his skin already warmer than it had been but seconds ago. "How fast can you get ready?"

"That depends on how fast you can get me to scream."

It doesn't take him long at all.

"Only ten minutes behind schedule," he observes as they pull in to park in front of her studio. "I believe we set a new record this morning."

"Someone's feeling smug," she returns as he turns off the ignition.

"Someone's feeling grateful," he amends, leaning over to kiss her. Her hands reach up to cup his face as lips tease and feather across each other. Then he's out of the car, opening her door, escorting her inside even though there's really no need.

"No Ruby today?" he asks, looking concerned as he scans her office.

"She woke up with a fever and sore throat," Mary says as she makes her way to her desk. "I told her to stay home and go to the doctor."

"Wise move," Charles replies. "God knows the last thing either one of us needs is to get sick."

"Precisely," she returns as she turns on her computer. "And no, before you ask."

"No what?" he questions.

"No, I don't need you to stay here with me," she states, watching his brows crease in concern. "Charles, I'm getting around just fine with my cane. Besides, most of the work I need to get done today I do can be done from this desk. So you see, you don't need to worry."

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his scalp.

"I can write from here," he says. "I mean, Ruby's desk is unattended today…"

"Yes, it is," she returns. "But aren't you supposed to meet with the rep from Gildon again in a couple of hours?"

He shifts on his feet and gives her a look she can't quite decipher.

"I am," he answers.

"And didn't you say that their offer was both fair and the most generous you've received?"

He swallows and exhales audibly.

"I did."

"Then why would you risk fucking that up to babysit your girlfriend who no longer needs babysitting?" He stares back at her, opening his mouth to say something when she cuts him off. "And before you say anything about the two of us fucking things up here, may I remind you we've already done that this morning, and we did it quite well, I may add."

This pulls a reluctant grin from him, one that unleashes those dimples that do things to her.

"We're experts on fucking things up, it would seem," he replies. "Or at royally fucking things up, as it were. After all, I do have the honor of fucking a queen."

"And don't you forget it," she adds as she settles in her chair and eyeballs him directly. "Now get out of here, Lord Ogre, and let me see to my work."

He hesitates, so she arches a brow in his direction.

"I'll text if I need you," she assures him, watching his shoulders slump in acceptance as he leans down to kiss her.

"I'll hold you to that," he says as he takes a step towards her office door. "You're sure-"

"Go," she commands, shooting him a look with which he refuses to argue. She watches as he exits, gets into his car and finally drives away, releasing a breath into a silence she actually cherishes. She wouldn't trade having him stay with her at her flat-God, she'd miss him like mad if he decided to go back to his own. But she is a solitary creature at heart, and with Charles all but officially living with her now, alone time has been something she's been sorely lacking over the past few weeks.

Her computer screen lights up, and she begins to check her messages, writing notes on a calendar as she goes. Most of them are from either current clients or suppliers, but there's one message that catches her eye, one that makes her mouth go dry as she shakes her head in disbelief.

Why the hell is Tony Gillingham sending her an email?

He'd been a fling from years ago, a fling she'd had a difficult time shaking as he'd been convinced the two of them should marry while she'd been convinced otherwise. Getting him out of her life had been about as easy as getting warm gum off of the bottom of a sneaker, and she isn't at all certain that she wants to read whatever it is he has to say. Dealing with one ex-lover is enough at the moment. Tossing another one into the mix could lead to a headache she'd rather avoid.

Nevertheless, she opens his message, taking a deep breath before daring to read its contents.

Mary,

I know I'm probably the last person you expected or wished to hear from today. Let me assure you that I am not writing in any attempt to rekindle a relationship with you but rather to procure your professional expertise on a matter near and dear to my heart.

My father passed away seven months ago, leaving me in charge of what remains of our family estate. After discussing various options, my sister and I decided that we would like to refurbish Willington Manner as a bed and breakfast to be opened to the public. It has been her dream to do so for some time, and both her training and expertise in hotel and restaurant management makes her more than qualified to run things here.

I know we didn't leave things in the best of places between us, Mary, but as we're both now older and wiser, I hope we can leave the past where it belongs and move forward in a more congenial manner. For there is not a designer in all of England with whom I would rather trust my family's estate other than you. From a completely professional standpoint, I do hope you will at least consider my offer.

If you find that you are open to the possibility of redesigning and refitting Willington, June and I would like to invite you to visit the estate at your convenience. Feel free to bring along an associate or guest if you would like to make a weekend of it. We're actually having friends over two weeks from now if you'd like to join us then.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Tony

Well, that was unexpected.

She's not certain just how wise it is to entertain the notion of inviting her clingy ex-lover back into her life, even if what he is proposing is strictly professional in nature. Yet the thought of overseeing the transformation of Willington Hall is very tempting, and a project of this size and scope could prove to be quite a coup for her. She leans back in her chair to ponder things over, knowing she really needs to take on this project, wondering just how she'll bring this up to Charles when she hasn't even had the guts to tell him about asking Matthew for a divorce lawyer recommendation.

Just do it, she says to herself, feeling more tired than she should, realizing that keeping this from her lover is sapping her of energy. She'll tell him when he picks her up, she decides, knowing that the odds of Charles actually being upset over a potential business transaction with Tony are extremely low. He's extremely supportive of her career, and she never loved Tony. Hell, she's loved only two men throughout the course of her life, and oddly enough the marriage of one led her right into the arms of the other.

How strange life can sometimes be.

She straightens up then and hits Reply, hoping to God she won't regret what she's about to do.

Tony,

What a surprise to hear from you.


"Charles. What a surprise to see you."

He's nearly nose to nose with Matthew Crawley, having nearly bumped into the man as he turned a corner.

"Matthew," Charles recovers, stepping back and extending his hand. "A nice surprise I hope."

Matthew takes his hand and shakes it.

"Of course," he returns. "I just didn't realize you had dealings with Gildon."

Charles blinks twice, surprised to learn that Lavinia has evidently not informed her husband about the fact that she's trying very hard to sign him on. It would seem he's not the only one who finds this situation of theirs a bit unsettling.

"We're in discussions," Charles returns with a shrug. "So far, I like what they have to offer."

"My wife works here, so of course, I highly recommend them," Matthew states, looking over his shoulder in the direction of his wife's office. "I'm surprised Lavinia hasn't mentioned this at home, quite honestly. I know she adores your book and said in the past that she'd love to bring you on board."

Charles shifts on his feet before smiling in what he hopes is a convincing manner, knowing that if Lavinia Crawley hasn't said anything about meeting with him to her husband, he's not going to going to be the one to let that cat out of the proverbial bag. After all, he hasn't told Mary about their meeting yet, either.

Damn it. He needs to do that. He will, he tells himself. Tonight. After he picks her up from work.

"Wait," Matthew says, rubbing the beginnings of a beard. " You wouldn't be on your way to meet with her right now? With Lavinia Crawley that is?"

Charles's mouth opens, but he shuts it again before clearing his throat.

"I'm to meet with a Mrs. Crawley," he says, doing his best to sound nonchalant. He's obviously failing miserably if Matthew's expression is any indication.

"God, this is about Mary," the other man mutters with a shake of his head. "Lavinia hasn't said anything to me about meeting with you because you're dating Mary." Charles stares back at him mutely, mouth dry, palms moist.

"Perhaps," he tries, completely unsure of what to say next.

"Probably," Matthew corrects. "I wish she would just believe me when I tell her that she has no reason to be insecure," he continues, staring directly at Charles and rubbing his chin. "I'll always care about Mary-she means a great deal to me, and we have years of history between us. Hell, we very nearly got married on more than one occasion."

Charles tries to swallow, finding it impossible with next to no moisture in his mouth.

"But I love my wife, Charles," Matthew adds, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm committed to her and only her. Mary is a friend."

Charles inhales and finally manages to swallow again.

"And I'm in love Mary, with everything fiber of my being and more."

Matthew smiles at this and nods.

"I'm glad," the other man says. "She deserves that."

"Yes," Charles replies. "She does."

"I'm also relieved that at least one person don't feel threatened by my and Mary's past," Matthew continues, making Charles shift uncomfortably on his feet. "We have a very complex history, as I'm sure she's told you, but when I told her that I was glad to see that she's moved on, I meant it."

Something tight loosens in his chest, something he didn't realize had been putting so much pressure on his rib cage until that pressure was gone.

"And I'm glad you aren't bothered by the fact that I'm meeting with your wife," Charles admits. "She's very good at her job, I must say. She makes a very convincing argument."

"That she does," Matthew agrees. "I've often thought she'd make a better attorney than me." He pauses then, looking directly at Charles. "Please don't tell her that we had this conversation. I'm interested in seeing just how long it takes for her to bring up the fact that she's meeting with you." He then looks down at his feet and chuckles. "Of course, if I come clean and tell her that Mary asked me to recommend an attorney for her a few days ago, it might get the conversation rolling."

Charles's insides freeze momentarily before everything inside him moves into overdrive. Realization hits him with force just before every muscle in his body lightens as if he's just swallowed helium. He laughs, understanding that Mary's been as big a dork as he has, which makes the conversation looming ahead of him far less daunting and more like a game.

They're good at games, he and Mary. He chuckles again.

"Oh God," Matthew says, cutting into his private thoughts. "Mary didn't tell you, did she? About contacting me, that is?"

"No," Charles answers, raising his hands in a conciliatory manner. "But it's alright. I haven't told her about my meetings with Lavinia, either. So we're even."

Matthew stares at him incredulously for a few seconds before bursting into laughter himself.

"Aren't we a crew?" he states. "Worrying over each other when there's nothing to worry about?"

"That we are," Charles returns. "Especially since that divorce lawyer you recommended to Mary is for me." Matthew stops then, his gaze boring into Charles with an intensity that catches him off guard.

"God, please don't tell me you're married," Matthew says. "Mary deserves better than that."

"I am, unfortunately, " Charles states honestly. "And she does deserve better than to be mixed up in my divorce-no question. But you should know that I wasn't looking for a relationship of any sort when Mary crashed into my life. Neither was she, for that matter. It just happened-we just happened, and the thought of giving her up now because my should-be ex-wife keeps dragging her heels is something I can't bring myself to entertain."

"So she stringing things out?" Matthew questions.

"Like a professional seamstress," Charles returns. "I've been trying to finalize things for months now and should have been single some time ago"

"Hence the need for a new lawyer?" Matthew surmises, his eyes still narrower than they'd been seconds earlier.

"Hence the need for a new lawyer," Charles confirms. "You see, my wife actually left me for a divorce lawyer nearly a year ago, so they've been stringing things out as they see fit, whether I like it or not."

"Christ," Matthew mutters as something clicks in his mind. "Wait a minute. Your wife didn't by chance run off with Elliott Wafford, did she?"

Charles shakes his head and sighs.

"The very one," he returns, gratified to see Matthew shake his head in disgust.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Matthew states. "Jane Brandon will eat him for lunch and send you home with leftovers. God, Elliott's an ass."

Charles laughs, feeling lighter by the second.

"I won't challenge your character analysis," Charles returns with a smile. "And as for Jane Brandon, I simply want to keep Freda's hands off of the profits of my book sales. She actually left me because she believed I'd never find success as a writer, and now that I have..."

"She wants your money," Matthew says.

"Down to the last pound," Charles affirms. "And Mary's having none of it."

"As she shouldn't," Matthew states. "And neither should you." He pauses for a moment and nods. "I'm glad you haven't kept Mary in the dark about this. I might have to hit you if you had."

Charles stands up taller, looking at Matthew eye to eye, both relieved and more than a little miffed at the man's cheek.

"And I'd deserve it," Charles says. "But you're not her defender anymore, Matthew."

Blue eyes wince just slightly as a self-depreciating smile breaks out across the other man's face.

"You're right," Matthew agrees. "I'm not." He sighs and looks up at the ceiling before staring back at Charles. "She's an incredible woman, you know. Smart, sharp, and soft-hearted when you manage to cut through all those layers of hers. We just always seemed to hurt each other, no matter how hard we tried to do otherwise. It was almost as if we were cursed."

He remembers Mary saying something very similar, and he suddenly misses her like mad, wishing she were here in his arms right now rather than half a city away.

"Don't think any less of me if I tell you I'm glad," Charles dares. "If you two had stayed together, she wouldn't be in my life right now, and she's by far the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"You two make each other happy?"

The question hangs between them, almost like a third party spying on their conversation.

"We make each other happy," Charles affirms. "Happier than I deserve to be, actually."

"Take care of her, then," Matthew states with a nod. "And good luck with your divorce, although with Jane now in your corner, I don't see any way that you can lose."

"Thank you," Charles replies. "For recommending her and helping to get us an appointment so quickly."

"I did it for Mary. She deserves some happiness in her life."

He extends his hand once more, and Charles takes it, forging a pact he feels down to his marrow.

"I'll do my best to make certain she always has it," he states. "You have my word on that."


"So," Charles says after Mary fastens her seat belt. "How was work today?"

"Fair," she answers with a shrug. "I managed to score a great deal with a supplier, and I was offered a job that could do a lot to bolster my business."

"That sounds more than fair," he returns. "More like bloody spectacular, if you ask me."

"It is, actually," she hums, looking out the window and taking a deep breath.

"So what's bothering you?"

He's driving, so he can't stare at her, a fact which makes telling him about Tony a bit easier.

"Nothing really," she lies. "It's just that the job offer came from an unexpected source."

"If you tell me it's Freda, I may wreck," he muses.

"God, no," she laughs, thankful for the diversion as she inhales deeply. "It's from an old boyfriend, actually."

"Not Matthew, I take it," Charles says.

"No," Mary returns. "Although I'd honestly rather work with Matthew. At least I'd know what I was getting myself into."

The neutrality of the words surprise her, and she smiles to herself, knowing she couldn't have voiced that statement just a month ago. Her wounds were too fresh then, still oozing rather than healing over because of the fact that she kept picking at scabs.

"So who is this prince charming?" Charles asks, appearing more intrigued than bothered at this point.

"His name is Tony-Tony Gillingham," she relies. "And we were never as serious as Matthew and I were. At least, I wasn't."

"Ah," Charles deduces. "He was besotted and you weren't?"

"That about sums it up," she concurs. "He wanted to get married, and I was nowhere near that point, something I told him several times before he finally got the picture."

"Did you love him?" he asks, making a turn to the left.

"No," she admits. "He was honestly more a diversion for me than anything else. We went out for a while after Matthew and I broke up for the first time."

"Rebound boy," he muses. "I almost feel sorry for the man, being sandwiched between Matthew, as it were."

"Don't," Mary insists. "He knows how to work what he has, how to use those puppy dog eyes of his to his advantage, along with his pout and physique."

"Eye candy, as Ruby would say?" he questions.

"Pretty much," she confesses. "I basically used him for sex."

He hits the brakes a bit harder than usual, and she leans over to whack him on the back as he coughs. He's laughing, the idiot, so she swats him again for good measure.

"Ow!" he yelps. "What was that for?"

"For laughing at me," she states. "And for nearly wrecking the car."

"It's my car," he argues. "And seeing that I used to be your man slave, I can see why this Tony fellow wouldn't mind being your fuck buddy. There are far worse lots in life."

"Watch it," she hums, tossing him a look she's certain he can feel even though his eyes are on the road. "Besides, if he'd been content to remain a fuck buddy, I wouldn't have had such a hard time getting rid of him."

"Ah," Charles muses. "The clingy type."

"Clingier than plastic wrap," she muses.

"Did he stalk you?" Charles ask, a measure of concern coloring his voice.

"No," Mary replies. "Nothing like that. Tony's harmless, truly, sort of like a giant teddy bear with killer pecs and a tight ass."

"I like him less and less by the second," Charles muses, warming her insides and making her smile.

"You have nothing to worry about, Lord Ogre," she hums, reaching over to give his knee a squeeze. "I honestly would be perfectly content to never see the man again."

"But he made you an offer," Charles states as they make another turn.

"He made me an offer," Mary echoes. "And a fantastic one at that." He watches her, waiting for her to continue. "He wants me to redesign his family estate, to help convert it to a bed and breakfast that he and his sister can open up for business."

"An entire estate?" Charles returns. "That is quite an offer."

"And it's the sort of thing I love doing," she continues. "Helping old places rediscover their grandeur while successfully transitioning to the modern world."

He picks up her hand and places a kiss on top of it.

"Then you should do it," he says. "No question."

"And you wouldn't mind me going down to spend the weekend at his estate?"

He breathes in loudly enough for her to hear.

"I won't like it," he states. "I won't lie to you. But I trust you, Mary, and I respect you as both a person and a businesswoman. Besides, you don't need my permission to do this."

"I'm not asking for your permission," she states. "But I would like your blessing."

"That you have," he smiles, unleashing a flutter just beneath her ribs. "One hundred percent. The only thing that disturbs me is the possibility of him following you around like a stray puppy."

"I'll pack a leash," she quips, making him chuckle.

"And all this time I had hopes that your leash was for me," he says, eliciting a naughty grin from her.

"Yours is bigger," she says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, thankful he doesn't swerve.

"Of course it is," he hums. "Ogre-sized, you know. Must keep my queen satisfied."

"That's a good man slave," she muses, earning herself a warm chuckle from the driver's seat. "You're invited, too, by the way. Tony said I should feel free to bring a guest or associate and stay the weekend. He and June are already entertaining a few guests then, it would seem."

"This weekend or next?" he asks.

"The weekend after next," she corrects as he nods. "I have the yacht show this weekend, and you have a signing the following Saturday. Don't forget."

"Rex would kill me if I did," Charles says, licking his lips. "I like this strategy, better, though. Make Tony the Puppy wait on you-let him know immediately who's in control."

"Precisely," she agrees. "And, if you join me, you could lounge around the estate and write to your heart's content while I scope out the place. Could be quite fun."

"Makes you sound rather like a burglar," he grins. "I think I'd like seeing you in a catsuit."

"Down, boy," she says with a flick of her brow.

"It's that big leash of mine," he returns. "Has a mind of its own, sometimes. Especially when there's petting involved."

"You're expecting belly rubs on this trip?" she questions, sliding her hand down his thigh.

"One can always hope," he answers, rubbing his hand along the top of hers. "I'll happily lie prone for you anytime."

"So agreeable, Lord Ogre" she murmurs, ogling his dimples as they turn another corner.

"I'd love to accompany you, actually," Charles adds. "Not only am I thoroughly intrigued by Lord Clingy-Pants, but I'd also like to see just how he reacts when you show up with a new lover in tow. Perhaps you should lead me in on a chain, clad only in a loincloth."

She laughs, and he grins

"He may have one of his own," Mary returns with a shrug. "A lover that is, not a loincloth. Attracting women has never been an issue for him."

"Just holding on to them?" he questions.

"Apparently," Mary says. "As if I'm a poster girl for long-term relationship success."

His hand wraps around hers before he pulls it back to his lips.

"Or I, for that matter," he breathes. "But we're good together, Mary. And I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."

Her insides feel like warm goo, her mind nearly tingling at the implications just spoken.

"I want you to stay," she says.

"Then I'll stay. It would seem I'm your devoted puppy, too." Everything clicks inside her, and she can't help but wonder if this is what actual contentment feels like. God, she likes it. It's a sensation she'd like to hold onto forever.

"You know," he adds. "You should bring Ruby along, too."

She glances over at him in curiosity.

"Eye candy for eye candy?" she asks, grinning as he nods.

"Precisely," he returns. "And she is currently nursing a broken heart after breaking things off with her Scotsman. You'd be showing her a kindness by bringing her along."

"I might be," Mary muses. "But she'd overlook the kindness and go straight for his ass."

"Thus keeping him thoroughly occupied and out of your hair," Charles notes. "Leaving the art of ogling you in a catsuit up to me and me alone."

She laughs, she can't help it, amazed at how telling him about Tony has turned into a game rather than an argument.

"I'll text Ruby now," she states, her fingers working even as she speaks. "This just might make her feel better faster."

"Undoubtedly," Charles agrees. "A single, good-looking potential fuck buddy with an estate to boot? She may drag herself out of bed and start packing tonight."

She smiles, now looking forward to a weekend she'd been partially dreading for most of the day.

"Thank you."

Her words seem to take him by surprise.

"For?"

"For being so reasonable about Tony," she expounds. He parks the car and turns off the ignition before turning to face her. His hands cup her face, and he leans over to brush his mouth over hers, prompting her to touch his face, to stroke his skin, to hum into the kiss that ends sooner than she would like.

"About that," he murmurs. "Mary, there's something I need to tell you."

There's something in his voice that worries her, something that prompts her to draw back far enough to check his expression.

"About Tony?" she asks.

"No," he replies. "About Matthew."

Shit, she thinks. Has he found out about the fact that she conversed with Matthew? Is he upset? Is he…

"And Gildon Publishing."

Wait. What?

"Gildon?" she asks, shaking her head. "What does Matthew have to do with Gildon?"

"Nothing, really," Charles says. "Although I did run into him there earlier today."

"At Gildon?" she repeats, trying unsuccessfully to fit mismatched pieces together in her head.

"Yes," Charles says. "At Gildon." He takes her hand within his and inhales, blowing out with a force that makes her nervous. "Mary, the person I'm meeting with at Gildon, the woman who is trying to recruit me, well…" He pauses and swallows. "It's Lavinia."

She stares at him a good three seconds before her lungs explode in laughter. He watches her, uncertain of how to respond until he seems completely caught up in the hilarity of it all and joins her.

"God, are you serious?"

Her question is half spoken, half-chuckled.

"Completely and utterly," he answers. "You could have knocked me over with a feather when she introduced herself to me. I'm certain I stared at her more than I should have."

"Did she ever mention me?" Mary asks. "Or our relationship?"

"Not a word," Charles returns. "So I didn't bring it up. The first time we met, I wasn't entirely sure that Matthew had told her about our meeting, and the last thing I wanted to do was disrupt marital bliss."

Her thoughts begin to blur as they race in continual circles.

"And today?"

He pauses, turning towards her in his seat so he can lean closer.

"Today when I ran into Matthew, he put things together," Charles continues. "You see, Lavinia hadn't told him about meeting with me, either."

"Just like you hadn't told me about meeting with her," Mary adds, trying to steady her breath as he nods.

"Precisely," he says with a sigh. "So you're not angry?"

She leans over and kisses him, tugging his lower lip through her teeth to emphasize her point.

"No," she replies, working her fingers into his hair as he leans in for another light kiss.

"And you don't mind the fact that I'll be working with her closely if I sign with Gildon?"

There it is, that boyish expectancy playing across his features, the one that always gets to her, the one she fears would make it near to impossible to enforce boundaries and discipline should the two of them ever have a child. She swallows, remembering that it is entirely possible she could already be pregnant, but she shoves that thought aside for another day, ready to tackle something she should have seen to days ago.

"I don't mind," she returns. "I mean, I can't say that Lavinia would be my first choice of people with whom I'd like you to work, but you've said she's made you a prime offer."

"She has," he confirms, dotting a kiss to her nose. "It's pretty fantastic."

"Then you should take it," she tells him. "But I'd hold off signing with them until after we meet with Jane, Freda and Elliott, just to be on the safe side. After all, if you're already divorced when you make the deal…"

"Then there's no way in hell Freda can try to claim a piece of the pie," he continues, nodding in agreement. "I like the way you think, Mary Crawley."

"I'm glad," she states. "Because there's something else I have to tell you, too."

Her gaze drops to their hands, her face feeling hotter than it should. She knows it's alright, that they're stronger than this, that she's acting like a child in allowing fear to keep her from telling him everything. So she squares her shoulders and breathes through her nose, looking up to eye him directly.

"Charles," she begins. "The person who referred Jane Brandon to me, well, it was…"

"I know."

Her face scrunches in confusion before relaxing into a smile.

"He said something today, didn't he?" she asks, feeling like a girl caught with her hand in the biscuit tin as he nods.

"He did," Charles admits. "Which only made it easier for me to tell you about Lavinia."

"So we've both been acting rather stupid," Mary observes, leaning into his palm as he cups her face.

"Like a pair of first class idiots," he concurs. "But if I have to be an idiot with anyone, you're my very first choice."

"I'm flattered," she quips. "I think."

He smiles, then so does she, sighing as needless weight melted off of her chest, resting her cheek on his hand until her last secret pressed to be let out of its cage. There's only one thing she hasn't told him, one potentially big thing that could also prove to be nothing at all. But it needs to be shared, she knows this, so she gazes into eyes that love her, that caress her, that melt her insides until they feel like liquid chocolate.

"What if I'm pregnant?"

The stunned silence that greets her is nearly deafening.

"What?" He sits up straighter after a few seconds, staring back at her as if she's breakable. "Mary-are you-I mean-isn't it too soon to know?"

She presses a finger to his lips as she nods.

"It is," she replies. "Far too soon. It's just that…" She pauses as her face overheats.

"What, darling?" he asks, skimming his nose against hers. "Whatever it is, it's alright."

She sighs and looks back at him.

"I was lax, Charles," she confesses. "With all of my pain medications, I forgot to take my birth control, so it's possible that…" She stops again and clears her throat. "It's possible we've made a baby without meaning to. I didn't even think about it until after-"

His features blur into unspeakable softness as he captures her lips with his own, effectively cutting off the rest of her sentence. She kisses him back, gently, nervously, allowing his breath to warm her face as his forehead touches down on hers.

"If we've made a baby, we've made a baby," he breathes, his skin heating up until it's nearly as hot as hers. "I'm all in as far as we're concerned, Mary, one hundred and ten percent. So if there's already a baby in the works, then quite honestly, I'll be thrilled. More than a little overwhelmed, mind you, and completely and utterly gobsmacked, but thrilled all the same."

Tears prick her eyelids, making her sniff.

"Really?"

The word leaves her in a puff of air, one heavier than it should be that engulfs the two of them like a warm blanket.

"Really," he assures her, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. "If you tell me that we're pregnant a few weeks from today, you'll not only make me the happiest man alive, but you'll likely send my mother over the moon."

Images of Jillian Blake receiving such news make her laugh and shiver simultaneously.

"It's alright, darling," he whispers, holding her as close as he can within the confines of his car. "Whatever the future holds-ex-lovers, ex-wives, unexpected babies, nosy relatives-it will all be alright if we just hold on to each other. Don't ever forget that."

A car horn sounds from a few streets over, making her aware of surroundings she'd all but forgotten. His eyes beckon, and she nuzzles her nose against his, trembling as breaths mingle in a dance meant for lovers.

"Alright," she breathes, clinging onto him with more fervor than she'd admit to anyone. She closes her eyes as stress seeps from her body into his warmth, as tense muscles finally go lax, as days worth of uncertainty begin to form themselves into a recognizable shape. His lips dot the top of her head, and she closes her eyes, absorbing this man who loves her into all that she is, allowing herself to honestly believe that maybe, just maybe, he's right after all.