Cora wiggles her way through the dancing couples intent on following Robert out the room. She is determined to check he's alright. What had caused him to run from the room so suddenly, surely it couldn't have been the Duke asking her to dance? He must have seen how much she disliked the man. Or did he? She didn't know, surely though he wouldn't expect her to accept some old, wrinkling Duke as her future husband?
"Miss Levinson. Did you just turn down the Duke of Devonshire?" Mr Northam steps into her path.
"Yes Mr Northam, I did, please will you let me pass."
"Would you accept a proposal from me?"
"Mr Northam, I'm very honoured and I will think about it. How about I send a note in the post tomorrow." The gentleman doesn't conceal his disappointment from her.
"No need Miss Levinson. I understand, and I wish you well, I really do." He leaves her and Cora struggles further towards the door. She realises how solely she is relying on Mr Crawley proposing. If he doesn't she may have to marry Lord Bertram and that's something she'd really rather avoid, there was something about that man that she still couldn't make out. Her mother suddenly appears from nowhere.
"Cora, don't chase after Mr Crawley. Lord Bertram has just arrived and if you're not going to accept the Prince's proposal, it's high time you accepted his." Cora sighs, she made it clear to her mother she didn't wish to have the trauma of being a Princess meaning her mother was still plugging that retched Lord Bertram's case.
"Mama, we'll talk about this later. I don't want to cause a scene. Now, please et me pass."
"I think you're making a mistake. Mr Crawley, if he ever proposes, only wants your money. Lord Bertram has taken a liking to you."
"He may have done. But I have no liking for him."
"And you think you have a liking for Mr Crawley, or should I say love Mr Crawley. Really Cora, it's just an infatuation, it will pass. No doubt when you realise he's not at all interested in you." Cora's eyes prick with water and she storms past her mother into the corridor outside. She's finally free of the fake smiles and comments of the stuffy ballroom. She takes a deep breath, breathing in the fresh cool air, before heading in the direction of what she believes to be the library.
Robert stands by the fireplace in the darkened library where only a couple of oil lamps burn, a glass of port in his hand. He swirls the liquid until he believes it's turning as much as his brain. Blue eyes, Devonshire, surely not? But it was staring him in the face, plain to see. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, it's the title. Damn titles. He knows that's what Miss Levinson wants. Why he cares, God only knows. He thinks it's because he's almost sure she loves him and if she does, surely she is expecting his proposal? Surely she wants him to make her happy? But could he really make a woman happy that has such deep feelings for him whan he only likes her? He's never been good with women, so having one fall for him is not only unexpected but quite an achievement. He doesn't know the first thing about being a husband though, besides the obvious and he's always been told that part of marriage is for him to enjoy, even if his father states that it's just as much about his future wife: 'It's better if she enjoys it too.' But to marry a woman who loves him but he has no feelings to return, surely that would be a disaster? Even if she is beautiful, funny, kind and has the money he so desperately needs to save his family. His thoughts are interrupted by none other than the woman occupying them. The last person he wants to see.
"Mr Crawley, is something the matter? You left rather suddenly."
"I'm surprised you noticed. I thought you'd be too busy with the Duke of Devonshire and his blue eyes and important question." Cora gasps. It was the blue eyes, he thought she had accepted the dreadful Duke.
"Mr Crawley, I-"
"No, really, there's not need to explain-"
"He's not the man on my second list."
"Who is then?" Robert can't help prying into her affairs. He's desperate to know what she's feeling, he doesn't want to get on one knee and present himself as a fool if he hasn't got a chance. Or does he?
"Does it matter?" The truth is Robert realises, it doesn't. He'd decided he was going to propose tonight. So here goes nothing. He sits down next to her.
"No, I don't suppose it does. You know what I'm going to ask." Cora groans inwardly. Every man who's proposed to her has started with that line. What don't men understand? Women want the full thing, the kneeling down and the proper words.
"Really, I don't think I do." Robert sighs, he should have guessed he wasn't going to be able to propose by halves. He reluctantly slides off the settee onto the floor before her and takes her small, slender hands in his own.
"Miss Cora Levinson, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Cora feels tears prick in her eyes. She briefly contemplates making him wait and sending a note in the morning with her answer but that idea leaves as quickly as it came. How long had she waited for those words? Long enough.
"Yes, yes, of course." Robert smiles and kisses her hands before sitting on the settee beside her again. The smile fades from his face when he sees the tears in her eyes; happy tears, they have to be. He doesn't wish to ruin her happy moment, but it's only fair that she knows he doesn't love her, isn't it?
"Miss Levinson. There's something you should know. I know you have, I mean I think, that you love me and I don't-"
"Mr Crawley-"
"You can call me Robert now, please."
"Robert, I know you don't feel the same about me. But I do believe you like me. If we can manage to be friends for the rest of our life's together, I will be happy. I know better than any other that you can not change what's in your heart, and I won't try and make you."
"I will strive to make you happy Miss Levinson."
"Cora, please."
"As you wish. I do want to make you happy. I promise. I may not love you but when I first met you I may have only seen you as a rich American who could save my family. But every day I've been with you I've liked you more and more. And I promise, I will dedicate the rest of my life to making you happy."
"That's quite a speech."
"I mean it, every word of it. May I try something, at the risk of embarrassing myself?"
"Is it another one of your schemes to make me sure I've chosen correctly? Because you should know I don't need by decision made for me. It's made and I'm happy."
"I wouldn't call it a scheme Miss-Cora. I'm just curious." Cora breath catches as he leans towards her, her heart races. Its pounding so hard she's sure it echoes around the room. She closes her eyes in anticipation of his kiss when the door flies open; Lady Grantham and her mother stand before them.
"Robert, there you are. Your father and I were worried. And Miss Levinson, people are asking for you, namely Lord Bertram, which is unsurprising seeing as this is your ball. The debutante show never leave the ballroom you know." Cora walks towards the door where her mother catches her arm.
"Lord Bertram wanted your answer Cora, so I said you'd most likely accept. He's going to call around in the morning with the ring." Cora's eyes widen in shock but before she can announce her engagement Robert steps forward.
"Mrs Levinson, your daughter has just accepted my offer of marriage. I will be calling in the morning with a ring." Cora sees a look in her mother's eyes that she recognises all too well; anger. But before Martha has a chance to explode Violet does.
"Robert, you must be mad. I assumed I was mistaken when I walked in and it looked as though you were about to kiss this ghastly American girl. But obviously I was not."
"No, you were not. We are going to marry." The blood drains from Violet's face and she reaches for the wall.
AN: Thank you for all the reviews and support! it's wonderful having so many people want to know when I'm going to update, it really makes my day. This is the penultimate chapter, so one more later in the week and then an epilogue at the weekend if my plan goes to plan! I hope you all liked this chapter, it was one of the harder ones to write, so I'd love to know if you liked it.