Hi there!

Thank you for still reading and showing support for this story. Life has been busy lately. I'm so sorry about the delay in posting. Hopefully it will prove itself worthy of the wait.

Lady Sybil… there have been some inquiries/requests for a bit of Sybil/Branson romance. Since Lady Sybil is only fifteen at the time when this story takes place, it's limited how much of that will actually happen. There is a Sybil/Branson scene in this chapter. Just a little sweet moment between them, and an interesting conversation that stirs some emotions in Sybil.

Thomas is still gallivanting around in underground Paris enjoying himself quite a lot!

I'm still struggling with responding to comments vs. writing. I chose writing since I want to keep up with posting. The next chapter is about 85% done, and so is the one after that. I only have a few scenes left to fill in.

Please don't hesitate to share your comments.

I LOVE hearing from you!

What did you like, what confused you, what would you like to see more of, what touched you deeply… or just that you still enjoy the story.

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Chapter 9 – Parisian Adventures

Mary watched Matthew intently from where she sat across from him in a cozy little café in Saint-Germain-Des-Prés. He appeared to be fascinated with the other patrons and the scene playing out around them. Waiters in long aprons rushed hot beverages and tasty treats on large trays, held high in the air, to eagerly waiting guests. Mary held her breath as she anticipated a collision, but the waiters danced out of each others' way with practiced ease. She smiled to herself, imagining Thomas and William doing the same.

Returning her gaze to her handsome husband, she felt a tingle in her stomach as Matthew licked a flake of pastry off his lip. His fingers closed around his napkin, dabbing it against his mouth. As she watched his hands, Mary could not help but relive some of the sensations those hands had evoked in her body only hours earlier.

Frowning a little at these feelings that were familiar and strange at the same time, she picked up her café au lait and sipped it. It had been a pleasant surprise to discover the favored hot beverage of the french, so very different from the bitter, dark brew her mother was so fond of. Taking yet another sip of her sweetened, smooth coffee, Mary pondered her feelings and what to do with them. She froze when she found Matthew looking intently at her.

"What's the matter, darling?"

"I don't know," he answered, smiling amusedly at her. "You were looking at me, almost the same way you did this morning." At the sharp intake of air from Mary, Matthew's eyes widened a little. "You were!" The words came out as a surprised whisper.

"What if I was?" Mary countered. "You're my husband, and we're on our honeymoon."

Matthew leaned across the table and lowered his voice to the faintest whisper. "You're aroused, darling."

"Matthew!" she hissed. "People can hear you."

"Hardly." He leaned back again and smiled, looking more than a little smug.

Mary started to pick up her cup again, but changed her mind. She glared at Matthew and huffed delicately. Confused with the change in her, he took her hand, stroking her fingers. She looked down at their naked hands and, with newfound courage, she turned her hand over, inviting him to touch her palm.

"What rights do I have?" she whispered.

"I don't understand."

"If…" she bit her lip and her cheeks flushed a little. "If what you said is true… can I… ask you?"

It took him a moment to understand her cryptic words, but when he did, he nodded enthusiastically. "Dear God, yes! Of course you can, darling." His fingers tightened around hers. "You have every right to say yes or no, and to state your desire."

"Then perhaps, Mr. Crawley, I think that you should take me back to the hotel," she said in a slightly deeper, huskier voice. "Your wife most definitely desires you."

Matthew all but jumped to his feet. Putting money on the table, he took Mary's hand, tucking it under his arm as the two hurried back to the hotel.

~ O ~

"That seat is taken."

Anna jumped at the harsh words tossed her way in thick, parisian French. She quickly stepped aside, clutching her purse closer.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

The woman's face hardened, and she reminded Anna instantly of Miss O'Brien.

"Foreigners. No manners at all," she muttered and took her seat, opening the magazine she had been carrying, ignoring Anna completely.

Anna blushed in shame at having been put in her place so rudely by this french woman. She yelped and jumped when a hand closed around her arm. Turning her head to face the culprit, she came face to face with a grinning woman with wild, deep-red curls.

"Pay no attention to her," she said cheerfully. "Come."

Anna nodded and silently followed the woman who, in Anna's quick judgment, appeared to be perhaps a few years older than her. She took a seat next to her and smiled a little tentatively.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." The woman laughed again, her brown eyes filled with mirth. "That old bat is just unhappy with life in general." She held out her hand to Anna who did not hesitate to take it. "Yvette Michaud."

"Very nice to meet you, Mlle. Michaud. Anna Smith."

"Oh, how lovely." Yvette's eyes widened. "Anna Smith."

Anna giggled. No one had ever thought her name particularly lovely. It was, after all, a fairly common name.

"Thank you."

"And who do you work for, Anna Smith?" Yvette held up her hand and gave Anna a sharp look that held a teasing twinkle. "And before you answer, please call me Yvette."

Anna giggled and nodded. "I'm lady's maid to Lady Mary Crawley."

Yvette frowned. "I don't think I've heard of her."

"She doesn't live in Paris," Anna explained quickly. "She's the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham. They have a grand estate in Yorkshire, and a house in London."

"Yorkshire," Yvette whispered, as if tasting the word on her tongue, and smiled wistfully. "I'm sure it's not very special to you, but to me it sounds wonderful. Like something out of a novel."

"Downton kind of is."

"Downton?"

"Downton Abbey. It's the home of Lord and Lady Grantham."

"Oh! And this is where you work?"

Anna nodded. "Of course now, when Lady Mary is on her honeymoon, I'm here."

"Ooh la la! An English lady on her honeymoon. Have they behaved very scandalously?"

Anna's eyes widened, and she laughed a little nervously. "They do love each other," she answered vaguely. "I'm sorry, but I don't really care to speak about Lady Mary like that. She's been so kind to me, and she's really lovely."

Yvette smiled, her face a bit more serious now. "I was merely joking. Don't pay any attention to me."

"And who do you work for?"

Yvette smirked and leaned closer. "The reason that that woman stared daggers at me is because of my mistress. She's a famous singer and actress."

Anna gasped. "Is she really?"

Yvette nodded. "She's a very good mistress. She pays well, and she's kind enough. The thing is, she's not a noblewoman, and she's not married to the man she entertains."

"I see." Anna bit her lip, unsure how to respond.

"It doesn't matter to me." Yvette shrugged and wiggled her eyebrows. "It's not me he's bedding, and he's a nice fellow really."

Anna's eyes widened at Yvette's frank words, and she covered her mouth as she giggled nervously.

"Mes dames, silence s'il vous plaît!"

The woman who Anna had come to know as Mme. Balfour stood in front of the group, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. Silence fell in the room as she started talking. Soon Anna's head was swimming with new knowledge about fabric and dress cuts – and she loved every minute of it!

~ O ~

Tom Branson silently slipped inside the library at Downton, more than a little excited at the opportunity to browse the vast collection belonging to his employer. Feeling almost a little silly, he moved towards the first row of books his eyes fell on. Tracing the spines with his finger, he read the titles, now and then smiling as he recognized a particularly nice one. Finding one that peaked his interest, he started to slip it out from its place on the shelf. He almost dropped it when there was a gasp and a giggle behind him. Clutching the book in his hand, he twirled around, instantly spotting who had startled him.

"Lady Sybil! I'm so sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here."

"It's all right," she said cheerfully, smiling at him. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. I was reading a letter from my sister, and it made me laugh." Sybil held up the letter for him to see. "I know not many people believe it, but my oldest sister can be very funny."

"So Lady Mary is enjoying her time in France then, milady?" Branson felt Sybil's cheerful mood rub off on him, and he grinned widely at her.

"She is!" Sybil jumped up and walked over to him. "Everyone in my family has been to Paris, so they don't find it that interesting." She made a face and huffed, a little annoyed.

"I suppose you've never been then, milady."

"Not yet." She grinned at him. "I can't wait to travel! Surely you must understand. You've, after all, left your home country to come here."

"Aye, so I have, milady. It's interesting, and I think it's important if you really want to understand people other than your own."

"I agree!"

Sybil could not believe how this man, who she had only exchanged a few words with since he started working for her father, could understand her so completely. She looked down at the book in his hand and reached for it. Their fingers brushed against each other, and she gasped, her eyes seeking his.

"His lordship said that I could borrow a book, if I wanted to."

"Of course," Sybil said quickly. "I was merely curious about your choice."

"Just an old friend, I'm afraid." He held up the book for her to see.

"HG Wells, The War of the Worlds." Sybil nodded in recognition. "I've read it. Papa was not too pleased with me when he found out."

"It's based on how the British invade other countries and impose their ways on the existing culture, so I can see why."

"Are you really as interested in politics as you claim?"

Sybil strayed over to the bookcase, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"If you refer to the cause of gaining independence for Ireland, then yes I am. Very much so, milady."

"I envy you." She sighed heavily.

"Why is that?" Branson wanted to approach her, but thought it inappropriate, so he remained in place.

"To have a cause, a purpose."

"Surely you do, milady."

Sybil huffed and rolled her eyes. "To get married, and everything that entails." She faced him, her hands on her hips. "I want to do something important with my life – make a difference. I want excitement!"

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, milady, but being a rebel is not always exciting. Most of the time it's tedious, cold, and frustrating."

"Cold?" Sybil frowned in confusion.

"Being outside at night. Attending meetings, and standing for hours in the rain and stuff."

"I see." She sauntered back to him, her hands clasped behind her back. "It still sounds tremendously exciting."

She stopped in front of him, her blue eyes searching his. Tom felt a little lightheaded as he was again surrounded by the soft, flowery scent of her. He cleared his throat and smiled a little.

"Take my word for it, milady." He dipped his chin and grinned at her. "Now, if you will please excuse me, I must leave. His lordship asked for the motor to be brought around at nine." With a cheeky grin he stepped over to the ledger and quickly scribbled the book title and his name, recording his borrowing the book.

"Of course! Oh, Branson, I'm so sorry." Sybil flushed in embarrassment. "Here I am, going on and on about how boring my life is, and you're too polite to interrupt. Please, I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

"Don't worry, Lady Sybil, it was a pleasure. Good day to you."

Sybil bit her lip and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet as she watched him leave. Tom Branson was most definitely an interesting person. With a little skip of excitement, Sybil left the library, hurrying upstairs to ponder her feelings for the dashing new chauffeur.

~ O ~

Thomas let out a sigh of relief once the car with Lady Mary and Matthew Crawley pulled out from the hotel, headed for the Paris Opera. The night before, he had waited up until the couple returned from their event at the embassy. It was past one in the morning once he'd said his goodnight. Glancing at the state of Mr. Crawley's coat, he had groaned, resigned to the fact that he would not be going out that night.

Tonight was a different story. Matthew had pulled Thomas aside before getting into the car to tell him that he did not need to wait up for them because they were meeting Mr. Napier and a friend of his for drinks after the opera. Thomas had thanked Matthew, and, after agreeing on a time to wake him the next morning, Thomas closed the car door and watched the car pulled out.

~ O ~

Thomas sauntered into the crowed club with his hands in his pockets, feeling much more confident than when he first set foot in the place two nights ago.

"Thomas!"

He raised his hand in greeting to Armand, shouting his name. He grinned and leaned down, kissing him before taking a seat. Thomas blushed a little at the teasing laughter and comments.

"Did you miss me?" he asked Armand.

"Mais oui, mon cher." Armand ran his hand over Thomas' lapel, and then slipped inside, caressing his warm chest.

"What did I miss?"

"Not much. Only Armand moping."

Armand made a face at Robert, who laughed at the two of them. Before anyone could tease them any further, Thomas rose, holding out his hand to Armand.

"Dance with me?"

"I'd be delighted to."

Thomas closed his eyes and sighed. Armand was in his arms, their cheeks pressed together as they swayed to the slow song. He frowned when he suddenly heard someone speaking English nearby. Opening his eyes he searched for the man who had just spoken, but no one around him said anything. He sighed, assuming that he had imagined it.

"Is something the matter?" Armand mumbled and brushed his lips over Thomas' cheek.

"Not at all. I just thought I heard something."

"Heard what?" Armand pulled back to look Thomas in the eyes.

"English. I thought I heard someone speaking English."

Armand laughed and nodded. "And why not? We're speaking English, non?"

Thomas grinned and nodded. "Cheeky bastard."

Armand laughed and twirled Thomas around. The two continued dancing until the music changed, and Armand escorted Thomas back to their table. Champagne was waiting for them, and their little group was laughing and having a grand time. At one point, Thomas thought he heard that same voice again and looked up. His eyes locked for a moment with a handsome blonde man. He was impeccably dressed, and Thomas knew instantly that he was looking at an Englishman, and a noble one at that. The man grinned before turning to follow his friends as they left.

~ O ~

"Crawley, over here!"

Matthew chuckled and steered Mary in the direction of Evelyn Napier. The four men seated at the table rose to greet them. Introductions were made, and once Mary took her seat, the gentlemen joined her.

"Lady Mary, Mr. Napier has spoken highly of you, but he failed in describing how beautiful you are."

Mary laughed a little nervously as she met the foreigner's sparkling dark eyes.

"Mr. Pamuk, you're coming dangerously close to flirting with a married woman."

Kemal Pamuk laughed and let go of her hand. He raised his glass to her, only to realize that she lacked a drink. Flagging down a waiter, he requested two more glasses and another bottle of champagne.

"Mr. Napier tells me that you are a diplomat, Mr. Pamuk." Matthew smiled at the man sitting on the other side of Mary, feeling a need to engage the man in conversation before he got too cozy with his wife.

"I suppose I am, though my work here in Paris is really not that important. My father works for the Sultan, and I'm merely doing him a favor."

"An important one, it sounds like."

"Politics is all a game, Mr. Crawley," Pamuk said with a devilish grin. "We move our pawns around, trying to get the upper hand on the opponent. Right now, I suppose I'm in the lead, but anything could happen, instantly forcing me back to the drawing board to form a new strategy."

"Fascinating!" Evelyn Napier exclaimed, his eyes filled with excitement. "Ah, here we are."

The arrival of the waiter allowed for the champagne to flow again, and Mary was promptly handed a glass of the pale, bubbly beverage. With cheers and laughter, they toasted each other.

~ O ~

Thomas let out a perfect smoke ring, watching it float through the air before dissolving. Armand was resting in his arms, his head nestled comfortably on Thomas' chest, and their fingers entwined on his stomach. The rumpled sheets bunched up at the foot of the bed spoke to the intensity of their previous encounter. As nervous as Thomas had been two nights ago about getting naked in front of another person, he was quite at ease lying sprawled in all his glory on the bed.

"I want to take you to the sea."

"Why?"

"Because you will look stunning in the outfits I will buy for you there." Armand laughed and kissed Thomas' chest. "Your body, tanned to a golden hue, making you look like a Greek God."

"I'm going back to England," Thomas muttered.

"Stay, mon chèr." Armand grinned up at him. "Stay forever."

"And what would I do in Paris?" Thomas huffed.

"You would be my pretty boy, and I would take you everywhere."

Thomas laughed and nodded. "You would, hm?"

"It's only been a few days, Thomas, but I think I am falling in love with you."

Thomas extinguished his cigarette and rolled the grinning Frenchman over.

"How delightful," he mumbled and kissed him.

Thomas moved his hands over Armand's slender body, squeezing, caressing, teasing him until his french lover was moaning and gasping. Avoiding reciprocating Armand's declaration of love, Thomas focused instead on distracting his lover in the most delicious way.

~ O ~

"You are stunning, Lady Mary."

Kemal Pamuk traced his fingers down her arm as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. Matthew Crawley had stepped over to the bar with one of Napier's friends to get cigars. Deciding to use the opportunity to test the waters with Mary, Pamuk turned on all his charm.

"Mr. Pamuk, please." Mary moved in her seat, trying to distance herself a little from him.

"I have a room at your hotel. Once your husband falls asleep tonight, will you not come to me?"

Mary's eyes widened. "I am a married woman!" she hissed. "I don't know what I might have done, or said, to give you the impression that I'm not madly in love with my husband, but take my word for it – I am! I will forgive you for your indiscretion, if you promise never to bring it up again. I don't dare to think of what my husband would do, should he learn about your proposition."

He grinned. "Passionate! How delightful. I can only imagine what a tigress you are in bed."

Mary looked over at the bar, but the room was too crowded for her to make out Matthew. Napier was absolutely no help at all. He had already had more than enough and was currently giggling quite loudly, deeply engaged in a conversation with his own shadow.

"Mr. Pamuk, I ask you again not speak to me like that. It makes me uncomfortable."

"I can tell that you've never been unfaithful before," he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over her neck, making her shiver. "You blush almost like a virgin. I must say that as delightful it is to pluck a budding rose, a married woman, just like a blooming rose, has her special charm. She knows what to expect, and she is usually much more passionate."

Mary knew her face was flushed. His words did have an effect on her, though not the one he expected. She suddenly felt a flush of heat and intense desire to be alone with her husband.

"Perhaps you should seek out such a woman then, Mr. Pamuk." She glared at him, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. "Mr. Pamuk!" Mary gasped, her eyes wide in shock.

"Kemal!" Napier roared with laughter. "You're such a scoundrel. Leave Lady Mary alone. She's the daughter of my mother's good friend, Lady Grantham. Lady Mary Crawley, as I've told you before, is a true lady, and I fear…" At this point Napier made a sad face. "… terribly, desperately, madly…" he took a deep breath. "… in love with her husband…" He waved over in the general direction of where Matthew was, almost hitting a waiter in the process. "Mr. Matthew Crawley." Pleased with his statement, he picked up his glass. "Cheers!"

"Mr. Napier," Mary warned. "You're not helping the situation. Will you please lower your voice?"

"Dance with me."

Before Mary could decline the offer, she was on her feet and dragged onto the dance floor by Kemal Pamuk.

~ O ~

Thomas looked around the busy nightclub, searching for any sign of the man he had spotted the week before. As had been the case every night, there was no trace of the dashing Englishman.

"I'm bored," Armand whined. "You're ignoring me, Thomas."

"Well, you're being annoying, so there." Thomas put his cigarette out with a bit more force than necessary.

"Mon chèr, don't be like that." Armand put his arm around Thomas, pulling him closer.

"I'm leaving." Thomas eased out of Armand's grip and got up.

"Why?" Armand jumped up, arms thrown out wide. "Thomas?"

"It's been fun, Armand, but I don't think this is going to work."

Armand just gaped at Thomas' words. "C'est finis? It's over?"

"What did you expect? That I would move in and marry you?"

By the look on Armand's face, it appeared that it was fairly close to the truth.

"Please, Thomas, I love you."

"Don't make a scene," Thomas hissed.

Armand threw his hands in the air and stormed out. Bumping into Serge, he did not bother to even stop and apologize. Serge looked up and met Thomas' eyes. His jaw tightened, and he stalked over.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"That did not look like nothing to me!"

"He's mad because I'm leaving! What am I supposed to do? Make it all go away? I can't stay here."

Serge sank down in a chair by their table and gestured for Thomas to have a seat. Ordering them some drinks, the two continued to talk.

~ O ~

The dance floor was crowded, forcing Mary even closer to Kemal Pamuk as he swept her around the room. She tried to wiggle out of his tight grip, which only accomplished her accidentally rubbing against his front, something that he took great delight in. He grinned at her, showing off a row of perfect white teeth.

"My darling, so eager."

"You know that's not why," she hissed.

"No need to be shy about it, Lady Mary," he whispered against her ear. "I like it when a woman takes control, as long as she yields in the end."

"Mr. Pamuk!"

He just laughed and spun her around the room again. At least, Mary thought for a fleeting moment, they were still in the room, and he had not tried to steal her away. Though perhaps that was not his intent? Then it slowly dawned on her – he wanted her to come to him!

"Excuse me."

Mary smiled at Matthew, delighted that he had finally found them. Pamuk let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes before turning his head to face Matthew.

"Mr. Crawley, I have been entertaining your wife while you were busy amusing yourself at the bar. The girls there are quite beautiful, so I can see why you lingered longer than necessary."

Matthew frowned, his face taking on an unhappy look. "What girls?"

"What girls?" Pamuk snickered. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I understand. I would not want my wife to learn of it either."

"This conversation ends here," Matthew said curtly, and held out his hand to Mary. "I would very much like to dance with my wife now, Mr. Pamuk."

"Certainly." Pamuk let go of Mary, but not before raising her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against the back of it. "Until later, Lady Mary."

Matthew glared after the man as Pamuk sauntered back to their table. "What was that about?"

"He thinks that I would be open to a proposition of an intimate kind."

"What?!" Matthew stared at her, his mouth open in shock. "I'll strangle him. The audacity." He was fuming with anger. "I'll kill him, Mary. I swear to you, I'll kill him."

Mary gently touched his cheek. "You will do no such thing, because there's no reason to. I don't want any other man than you. And how could I have you if you were in prison for murder?"

Matthew chuckled, but his anger still simmered. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am." She smiled sweetly at him. "Now, please dance with me. People are starting to stare at us."

He snapped out of his murderous thoughts and held out his arms to her. She eagerly stepped closer and allowed him to pull her against him as he led her through the waltz.

~ O ~

Thomas leaned back against the sofa and blew out some smoke. As it dissolved into the air, he found himself gazing at the handsome stranger again.

"Monsieur. Enchanté."

Thomas smiled and nodded. "I'm afraid that my French is a bit rusty. Do you, by any chance, speak English?"

"I thought there was something familiar about you," the man said, in perfect King's English.

"My dashing looks?" Thomas said with a little smirk.

"Naturally. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Thomas Barrow, at your service."

The man dipped his chin a little, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "I truly am delighted to meet you, Thomas Barrow. Please call me Edwyn."

"Somehow I don't think that is the proper way to address you, Edwyn." Thomas grinned at the man.

"Perhaps, but then we are in Paris, and everyone should be allowed a secret identity in this town."

"If you say so."

"And just so you know, Mr. Barrow, Edwyn is my real name. I just happen to have a few other ones to go along with it. Not that any of them are important right now."

"I'm pleased to hear that, Edwyn, and please, call me Thomas."

~ O ~

The first thing Matthew noticed as he woke up the next morning was that Mary's warm, silky buttocks were pressed against his front. He smiled and moved a little, choking back a groan as his morning arousal increased tenfold. Mary hummed and moved closer again. A quick glance at her face confirmed that she was indeed still sleeping. Placing his palm on her stomach, he held her in a gentle, but close, embrace while slowly rubbing against her. A tiny whimper escaped from between her lips, and Matthew's grin instantly grew wider. Sliding his hand higher, he stroked her breast, teasing the nipple. A shiver went through Mary, and she shifted a little in her sleep, her right leg moving forward.

Matthew kept caressing her front and side, then stroked down her leg and up the back of her thigh. He could feel the heat from her core, even before touching her. The instant his fingers reached her intimate place, he felt how ready his touching had made her. Setting a slow, but steady, rhythm, he pleasured her from behind, his fingers sliding through her slick heat, teasing her little spot, then very gently pushed a finger inside her, only to start all over again a moment later.

"Oh God!"

Mary gasped as she finally woke up from Matthew's touching. He was doing something incredible with his fingers and she trembled as her brain fought to catch up with the level of arousal.

"Good morning, darling."

Matthew kissed her shoulder, not missing a beat as he kept stroking her. When she tried to turn around, he gently pushed her down on her stomach. Kneeling between her legs he kept stroking her. Mary's buttocks shot up in the air as he intensified his efforts. Matthew grinned at the sight, and his manhood instantly responded. An idea surfaced, and when she pushed up next, he slipped a pillow under her, keeping her at the slightly higher angle.

"Matthew?" Mary's eyes widened and she froze for a moment. She felt utterly exposed with her derriere in the air like this.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What are you doing?"

"Making love to my wife," he drawled.

Mary rolled her eyes and he chuckled. Slipping two fingers inside her, made her close her eyes tightly as she gasped at the intensity of the touch.

"Please…"

"I don't know…" he drew out the words, teasing her a little more. "Perhaps you're not ready yet."

"I'm ready!" The words were almost growled back at him.

Withdrawing his fingers, he moved so he was hovering over her. Guiding himself into place, he entered her firmly, causing them both to gasp. Leaning over her, holding himself up so he would not crush her, he set a fast pace. He could tell that she needed it, and he was too far gone to be able to handle anything slower. Rolling his hips and pushing against her, he aimed to bring on her release. To his delight, Mary seemed to be pushing up against him, apparently egging him on. She was clutching at the bed sheets, gasping and whimpering. Leaning on his left hand, he reached for her hair, running his fingers through it, before moving it away so he could stroke her back.

"Let go," he gasped.

"I can't." She whimpered and shook under him.

"Yes you can. Do it, Mary. Let me watch you spend."

His words, delivered with a surprising assertiveness, went straight to Mary's core and she cried out as her body clamped down around him. Matthew grunted and pushed harder against her until he spilled inside her a moment later. He gasped and hung his head, his body covered in a fine layer of perspiration. When he felt Mary relax around him, he slowly withdrew. She mewled and shivered, still incredibly sensitive from their coupling. He stroked her buttocks in a comforting caress before stretching out next to her.

Face to face now, they smiled at each other. He smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her softly.

"That was wonderful, darling."

"It felt different," she whispered, her cheeks flushing a little.

"What did?"

"When you touched me from behind. I enjoyed it quite a lot."

"I'm glad to hear it."

~ O ~

Having awakened to drizzling rain, they had agreed that today was not a good day for sightseeing. After the late night with Evelyn Napier and his friends, it was almost a relief to just relax in their room.

When Matthew rejoined Mary after his bath and getting dressed, it was to find her curled up close to the fireplace, reading. He had noticed her with her nose in the same book the day before and had meant to ask her about it, but it had slipped his mind. He blushed at the thought of exactly what it was that had him so distracted.

"What are you reading, darling? You seem very captivated by it."

"I am," Mary said excitedly. She held up the book for him to see. "Sybil gave it to me as a travel gift."

"The Phantom of the Opera," Matthew read. He frowned. "It sounds familiar, but I can't say that I've read it."

"It's a fascinating story, taking place at the Paris Opera."

"How appropriate." He chuckled and sat down next to her, pulling her feet onto his lap.

"Isn't it?" She sighed and squirmed to get comfortable, rubbing her foot against his thigh. "This is lovely. I'm so glad that we decided to stay in today."

He nodded and watched her dive back into her story again, soon completely immersed in the intriguing tale. He kept stroking her feet, delighting in sharing a relaxed, yet intimate moment with her.

To Be Continued…

. . .

A/N: Edwyn: meaning, rich friend

. . .

A/N: I feel as if Mary is still a bit innocent, and struggling with embracing being a married woman. Victorian ladies were not supposed to be interested in sex, and be submissive to their husbands. Having grown up in that age, I wanted to show her struggle to break out of that kind of thinking and become Matthew's equal in the bedroom as well as everything else.

Kemal Pamuk and Evelyn Napier still exist in this universe. They might or might not show up again in the future. Rest assured, Kemal Pamuk will not end up dead in Lady Mary's bed!

Thomas' new friend (have you guessed who he is yet?) could also possibly return… who knows (:

Anna also made a new friend who will show her the delights of Paris (though in a different way than Thomas' experience!) There might… or might not be… a garter involved!

Upcoming:

In the next chapter the Parisian adventure draws to an end and the Crawley party is getting ready to head off to Versailles for the second part of the honeymoon. Will you be joining me on this adventure? I can assure you that Matthew, in particular, has some delightful (naughty?) things in mind for their stay there…