Mary hadn't slept a wink that night, even after Pamuk had left to go to his own room. She couldn't believe what she had done. How could she have let herself be so stupid? She gave in to temptation, and she knew it wouldn't just leave her alone. She would never be able to so much as look at a man without feeling guilty. What would happen when she married? She would have to tell her husband, wouldn't she? Surely Pamuk had no intention of marrying her. His relationship with her would only ever be physical.

She would have to keep it to herself. She couldn't allow her mistake to bring shame upon her family. It would create a scandal that would never leave the House of Grantham. She may never be able to find someone willing to marry her if anyone knew. Not only her, but her sisters would be shamed, too. And what about Matthew?

Once again, Mary found she was scolding herself for thinking of Matthew. She had thought of him when Pamuk had kissed her. Would Matthew have kissed her that way? Or when he came to visit her. Would Matthew have treated her the same as Pamuk had? No, Matthew wouldn't. He was too kind. Matthew would have been much softer and gentler. But what would he say if he knew? Surely he would despise her, and might never speak to her again. She hardly knew him, but she knew he would be a part of her life for a long time. She couldn't stand it if she knew.

Mary had never been relieved the way she was as she watched Mr. Pamuk climb inside the car to go back to the train station that next morning. She almost felt remorse for having ignored Edward Clarke since his arrival. Had she spoken to him instead of the Turkish diplomat, perhaps last night would have been different. Lord Edward Clarke granted her a dull goodbye before following his companion into the car. Mary watched as the vehicle was driven down to gravel drive and out of sight.

After the rest of her family had gone inside, she stayed and walked out to her favorite bench. Mary was in hardly any mood to be around people. She hardly wanted to talk to anyone, not even the blue-eyed guy that walked up the gravel walkway to her.

"Lady Mary," he said, tipping his at to her. She simply smiled at him and sliding over to make room. She had neither the energy nor was she in the mood to pretend otherwise. He sat down in the space she had provided, and to her surprise, he didn't beat around the bush.

"I was wondering if we could talk. About the day we met, I mean."

Mary was taken aback. She stole a glance at him, her expression giving away how she took his form of staring conversation.

"You mean having dinner at Downton?" she asked, trying to appear oblivious. "What is there to talk about?"

Matthew sighed. "I don't doubt for a moment that you know what I'm really talking about."

Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Oh."

"I've been wondering why you didn't tell me who you are…"

"I don't know what you mean, exactly."

"You didn't tell me your last name, or who your family was. You lied about living in London."

"If I remember correctly, you didn't give me your last name either, Mr. Crawley," she teased.

"You'll have to forgive me. I wasn't entirely myself at the time," he told her sheepishly.

"And why was that?"

Matthew was silent for a moment, and he never answered her. "You hardly answered my questions."

"You mustn't be angry. I really didn't want to tell you who I was because you were already treating me different and we hadn't even spoken before."

Matthew turned to put his elbow on the back of the bench, making it easier for him to look at her. "Treated you differently?"

"All my life, I have been treated like royalty because everyone I have ever met knew who I was. But you didn't, and I was curious to see what it would be like to talk to someone who thought I was just as ordinary as they were," she explained.

"Even without knowing who you were, I didn't think for one minute that you were ordinary," Matthew said, smiling.

Mary tried to prevent herself from blushing, but it was a lost battle before it had even started.

"How was Lord Clarke?" he asked her.

"Hardly anything like in his letters. He wasn't so dull when he would write to me."

"And Mr. Pamuk?" he asked again. He couldn't keep the question to himself. She had been so absorbed in him, and Matthew couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy that night. He was surprised to see her expression change completely at the mention of the man she had been head-over-heels for.

"He was alright. I suppose his head was a little too big for the rest of him, though," she said, trying to hide her true feelings.

"Oh, I'm sure. You didn't seem at all interested in him," Matthew said sarcastically.

"I wasn't!" Mary tried to defend herself. Matthew simply gave her an 'I know better than that' smile. "Oh, alright. He was a bit charming, I will give him that."

"A bit?! Cousin Mary, you hardly looked at anyone else the whole evening!"

"Well you seem to have been very observant last night. Or perhaps you noticed I paid him much attention for other reasons."

"And what could you possible mean by that?"

"You were jealous," Mary teased.

"Hardly," Matthew scoffed.

"Don't act so disgusted by the idea," Mary joked. "You did flirt with me."

"I hardly consider asking about your family flirting."

"Not that. You were speechless when you met me in London."

"And you couldn't stop blushing," he said, causing her to blush once more.

"It appears I underestimated you, Cousin Matthew."

"And how have you done that?"

"You're one of the few people I have met that could keep up an argument with me."

"I suppose I am honored," he laughed.

Mary couldn't help but change her feelings towards him. He wasn't as bad as she had led herself to believe. He most definitely wasn't the kind of person to be greedy when it came to money. He wouldn't mistreat his inheritance. And he had pulled her mind away from Pamuk, which was something she hadn't thought anyone would be capable of for some time.

"It's not often I can argue with someone capable of keeping up with me," she smiled.

Matthew thought for a moment before saying, "If you really like a good argument…"

"Yes?" Mary pushed.

"…then we should see more of each other."

Mary couldn't help but blush for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

A/N I hope you enjoyed the first real M/M scene. Richard Carlisle will be introduced into the story soon, which may make some people happy and others not so much. Either way, he is somewhat crucial to the plot. I do know where I want the story to go, but I am also completely open to any plot suggestions. I want to put what you want into this story if I can, though I can't promise I will use all suggestions. Some just won't fit into my plans. Please review, follow, and favorite! I have 2 more Downton Abbey fanfiction ideas bouncing around in my head, and I plan on starting those sometime in the next week or so. Thanks so much for reading!