AN: Thanks so much for your lovely reviews! I'm sorry I have not PMed you all with a thank you, but it's been a very busy week and I lacked the time, but i am thanking you all now. As to everyone's excitement over the identity of the red head, you'll have to wait and see!
As Robert walks to Miss Levinson's residence he thinks of their last encounter. It had all been going so wonderfully, and unless he was very much mistaken she had appeared to be interested in him. Robert hadn't been totally oblivious to the unfamiliar sensation that had flooded over him when he'd taken her hand and he wondered if she'd felt that too, he thought she had, but then at he end of their conversation she'd suddenly walked off as if he'd offended her in some way.
He'd wanted to get out of the house this morning. His parents had been at each other's throats ever since his father had agreed to host Miss Levinson's ball. Robert still isn't sure what possessed him to want to host a ball for her, it wasn't as though he thought doing something generous would increase the chance of her agreeing to marry him, after all there was no way a beautiful, intelligent woman like Miss Levinson would choose to marry him. As soon as she'd left him at Lady Margaret's ball she'd spent the rest of the evening on the dance floor with various Dukes and then Prince Christian danced his first dance of the evening with her, she had looked very content in his arms and it was no surprise, any woman would be content in the arms of Prince, she'd laughed and smiled. The gossips had been going before the end of the night and Robert had opened the paper that morning to the gossip columns filled with "Young American beauty to be the next Princess." Never had a Robert been so angry about something he'd read in the papers, how dare they write about a woman how they were writing about Miss Levinson, slandering her name and making her out to be some fortune hunter, set to ruin the country. What confused him was why he cared, what did it matter to him if she married the Prince? It wasn't particularly any loss to him, there were a couple of other heiresses of the season, including Lady Margaret, whom his mother would say was a far better match as the daughter of an Earl. But of all the heiresses it was Miss Levinson's face that clouded his mind, refusing to budge. A problem he decided that he needed to conquer seeing as there was no way she was ever going to accept him.
Robert had never thought much about marriage until his father had told him that by the end of this season he had to be married, married to an heiress. He'd never thought about what he wanted in a wife apart from maybe a little beauty. But since meeting Miss Levinson a week ago he'd started comparing other women he met to her as though she was the perfect fit. But how could she be? She was American. She wasn't particularly well born. Her money was new. She was pretty, very pretty and very intelligent, but when did she become what he imagined his future wife to be like?
He walks up the steps to Miss Levinson's house and knocks, a Butler opens the door and he gets shown into the drawing room. Miss Levinson sits by the window, embroidery abandoned in her lap, her head propped on a cushion, fast asleep. He smiles and sits across from her, watching the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest and her lips open and closing very slightly. He sits and watches her for what could be minutes, it could be hours, he doesn't know. He turns to look out the window only to hear a soft murmur of "Robert" escape from her slightly parted lips, thinking she's awoken he turns to her, only to find her still fast asleep, surely she can't be dreaming of him? Maybe there was a Robert she'd fallen for in America, yes, that must be it. Then her embroidery falls to the floor as she moves in her sleep and her eyes fly open. Robert sees her start and blush as she acknowledges his presence. She subconsciously raises her hand to her hair, checking it's all still in place.
"You look fine, and you're beautiful when you sleep." Robert scolds himself when she looks at the ground. Stupid man, commenting about how she looks when she sleeps, all the connotations! "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, please forgive me Miss Levinson."
"It's alright. I know you meant no harm. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"I'm pleased you find my visit a pleasure. I came for no particular reason, I just wanted to bring you up to date with the arrangements for your ball."
"And to escape your mother?" He smiles and it pleases him when she smiles tentatively back at him.
"There have been quite a few favourable replies to the invitations. It seems you've made an impression in everyone's minds."
"Or, they just wanted to see the grand interior of the Grantham's London house." He relaxes, he didn't even realise he'd been tensed, but he'd been waiting for her to tease him, it was a part of who she was and it would have been obvious he'd done something seriously wrong the other night if she didn't tease him now. "I'm sorry for all the havoc I've bought down on your heads. Apologise to your sister for me."
"She doesn't mind, she loves listening to my mother and I argue. I'm sorry you haven't been able to meet her yet."
"I saw you danced with Lady Margaret eventually, the other night." He stiffens, so she had noticed, he'd rather hoped she hadn't.
"Yes."
"Has your opinion of her changed? It appeared as though you'd rather avoid her earlier in the evening."
"My opinion of her hasn't changed, but as a family friend I felt I owed her a dance. Even if I do find her the most irritating girl alive."
"I've since learned she had a rather large dowry, and I already knew she was very well-born. Isn't that what you men want in a wife, money and good breeding?" Stereotypes, he sighs, why on earth do they exist? For him they have been nothing but a hindrance. All his life he'd thought he'd marry for love, just as his father did but that had set itself against him. Marriage he now realised was a lottery, or a game of cards, totally down to chance. He'd never understood the concept until now. But now he knew, you only have the choice of the cards in your hand, in other words the women which have the attributes you need, in his case money. After that the fates decide. It angers him that Miss Levinson, a woman of sense and intelligence whom he believed disagreed with stereotypes could believe him to be so narrow-minded. Without thinking he snaps at her.
"I noticed you were in the arms of various men throughout the evening yourself. I thought you weren't fond of dancing?" He watches as embarrassment and hurt pass over her still slightly sleepy features.
"Well, you know, when-"
"The handsome gentleman is the future Duke of Devonshire, Gloucester or the Duke of Bertram himself, perhaps even Prince Christian Victor, the Duchess' coronet of Princess' tiara are just too good to let lie. I understand." He stops, out of breath, where did all that come from, was he really being possessive over who Miss Levinson danced with?
"Mr Crawley, if you wish to dance with me-"
"No, I mean yes, I would like to dance with you. I just wanted to know why you hadn't danced with me. Or am I just not high enough up your list of eligible men for dancing?"
"Mr Crawley, you've never asked me to dance. And as for my list, you forget of all the men you're the one hosting my ball. The man whose debt I might be in forever, unless of course I find a way to repay you." He doesn't miss how she drags the word 'repay' out, or the meaningful look that accompanies the phrase. He equally loves how she has taken to calling him 'Mr Crawley' as she had asked him, rather than the 'Lord Downton' that society persists on. He doesn't however notice the smile fade as her thoughts return to the red haired beauty Robert had danced with twice. "Mr Crawley, at the risk of being impertinent, who was the red head you danced with at Lady Margaret's ball?" Robert smiles to himself, unaware that this very facial expression is being scrutinised by the woman sat before him, as he remembers his playful conversation with the red head in question and laughs.
"Oh, she's my-" but at that moment the door opens and a gentleman Robert assumes is Miss Levinson's brother enters the room and blushes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Harold, this is Mr Crawley. Mr Crawley this is my brother Harold." at the sound of Miss Levinson's authoritative voice her brother becomes braver and even smiles.
"Very pleased to meet you. Cora's mentioned you rather a lot." Robert doesn't miss the wink Mr Levinson bestows on his sister, or the glare he receives in return. It's a wonder he does notice these things though, as his mind is miles away, thinking over the words of Mr Levinson. Does she really talk about me all the time? Mr Levinson exits and suddenly Robert is sat beside Miss Levinson, her hands in his.
"Without wishing to embarrass you. I just wanted to ask you, for future reference, if-if you wanted to take a turn around Kensington gardens tomorrow." Damn you, Robert, why do you always chicken out at the last moment? He reprimands himself, all he wanted to know was whether she'd be interested in a life with him or not.
"Yes, yes that would be lovely. How about eleven o'clock?"
"That sounds wonderful. I'll see you there." He gets up abruptly, not wishing to stay any longer at the risk of embarrassing both of them.
That evening when he sits around the table with his parents, the topic of Miss Levinson, one he'd been hoping to avoid discussing with his parents due to his confused thoughts on her, comes up.
"How was Miss Levinson today?" Such an innocent question, posed by his father but it's a question he doesn't know how to answer. She was fine, he thinks, but she'd acted so strangely the other night, what did it all mean?
"She was-"
"Oh, please, Miss Levinson this, Miss Levinson that. Everyone is talking about Miss Levinson; how she's so amazing and has captured the Prince's heart, but really she's just rich, and a ghastly American." Roberts anger spikes at his mothers speech, how dare she talk about Miss Levinson like that?
"Well, I like her, she's funny, pretty and we get along very well."
"And you get along very well with Lady Margaret and-"
"I hate the very sight of Lady Margaret. She's snobby, and all she cares about is being Countess of Grantham."
"But isn't that want Miss Levinson wants? The house and the title?"
"Perhaps, but I want a happy marriage with a woman who makes me laugh and with whom I can have an actual conversation, I don't want a woman that flops all over me, pampering and giggling."
"Robert, you need a happy marriage with a woman who knows how to run a house like Downton. Not an American. And why we have to host a ball for her I don't-"
"Happy marriage or not, the point is Robert needs to marry money. Miss Levinson has that money." Robert is thankful for his fathers interruption, it gives him a chance to breathe.
"Yes, yes, but a well-born english girl with a smaller dowry who knows how to run a-"
"Oh Mama, really, if that's all your worried about, perhaps you'd be obliged to teach Miss Levinson how to run a house like Downton. A little kindness wouldn't go amiss after all."
"Kindness, Don't talk to me about kindness you ungrateful boy, I'm hosting a ball for the ghastly-"
"That's quite enough!" He's never yelled at his mother before, never. But this time he snaps. It's his life. His marriage. Why on earth should he be told whom to marry? It was bad enough he only had the choice of heiresses. "She doesn't deserve such treatment from you after being nothing but kind. And as for you Papa, shut up about money and heiresses. It's alright for you to exclaim 'happy marriage or not' but you're not the one that's going to be stuck with a woman you hate for the rest of your life. That will be me. You married for love, remember, you have no idea what unhappily married means. I don't want to be a man who has a mistress because they dislike their wife so much. I want to be a good husband. I will choose my own wife without anybody's interference. And you don't need to fret, I will be a dutiful son and choose her from the list of heiresses for the season that you were kind enough to write out for me." He storms from the room, tears already sliding down his face.