A/N: I'm sure most of you had forgotten about this little story, since it has (disgracefully) been almost two years since I updated it. I'm thrilled to say that my muse has finally returned! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
I also want to say a HUGE thank you to my dearest Dream of Ragtime for her encouragement, and her help in rediscovering my inspiration. Thank you also to my beta, CountessCora, for always being so faithful and diligent in catching my mistakes!
Robert suddenly felt as if all of the air had been drawn out of the room, his breath stalling in his lungs, and his heart pounding in his ears. Of course the first guest to arrive would be one of the men who had been in hot pursuit of his wife.
"How quickly your maxim will be tested, darling," Cora murmured, smiling apologetically at her husband. "I'm so sorry for all this."
Robert gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, endeavoring to maintain an air of nonchalance. "It's quite alright, Cora. I just keep thinking of your father's words. You're my wife; not theirs."
"Thank the Lord for that," Cora exhaled.
"Cora!" Mr. Livingston's voice boomed across the ballroom.
Robert bristled as he watched the boisterous young man cross the ballroom with his arms outstretched. Beside him, Cora fixed her best practiced smile to her face.
"Mr. Livingston," she greeted, cordially extending her hand toward him, causing his steps to slow somewhat. "How lovely to see you again."
"There's no need for all that formality, Cora," Mr. Livingston scoffed as he took Cora's outstretched hand in both of his. "You're not in England now."
"Perhaps not, but we were never exactly on informal terms, Mr. Livingston." Cora frowned slightly as she pulled her hand away. "And it's 'Lady Downton' now."
"Humph," he huffed. "If that's what you insist upon."
"It is," Cora confirmed, smiling once again. "May I introduce you to my husband, Lord Downton. Robert, this is Mr. Andrew Livingston. His father and mine are business partners."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Livingston," Robert said, reaching to shake the young man's hand.
"So you're the man who stole my Cora," Mr. Livingston almost snarled, begrudgingly shaking Robert's hand.
"Did I?" Robert questioned innocently, turning to face his wife. "I was unaware that I had stolen you, my dear."
"You did steal my heart," Cora smiled, her cheeks turning pink as she did so. Robert knew that, under normal circumstances, she would never be so forward in public. But he also knew that she was endeavoring to get her point across to this detestable gentleman. "But, you stole me away from no one." She turned a pointed look on Mr. Livingston.
Not one to be thwarted, Andrew squared his shoulders. "At any rate, I wondered if you might do me the honor of a dance this evening, Lady Downton." His face twitched with the effort of not sneering at her title, his voice dripping with disdain.
Robert felt his wife stiffen beside him. He knew she didn't want to; more than that, he wasn't very keen on the idea himself. But he knew that the very last thing either of them wished to do was to appear rude and embarrass his in-laws. So when Cora looked up at him in askance, he gave her a smile and a small nod.
"I should be delighted." Cora forced a smile as she extended her left arm, giving him access to her dance card.
"How about the first waltz?"
"I shall be dancing both waltzes with my husband." She wanted to dance every dance with Robert, her stomach churning with the thought of having to be in Andrew Livingston's arms for any length of time. But, she could not appear rude, no matter how much she may have wanted to. "How about the gallop?"
"It isn't a very romantic dance." Livingston seemed thoroughly put out at Cora's choice.
"No, it isn't," Cora agreed.
"Just as stubborn as you always were. At least some things never change," Andrew observed. Robert lifted his chin in indignation at the scoundrel's impertinence, but said nothing. "I shall look forward to our time together, your ladyship." And with a pronounced bow, he made his way to the other side of the room.
Robert couldn't help pulling a face. "Golly. Has he always been so…"
"Repulsive?" Cora finished. "Yes, he has. Even if Mother hadn't insisted that we attend the London Season, I would never have married him. The very idea of having to spend even an hour in his presence—never mind the rest of my life—was enough to make me physically ill."
Robert couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm afraid it's going to be rather a long evening."
"You've no idea." Cora rolled her eyes. "Now that Andrew has the bit between his teeth, there's no telling what he might say or do."
Robert did his best to ignore the weight that formed in the pit of his stomach at her words. How he wished for this evening to be over.
The ballroom had filled quickly, the guests seeming to arrive in droves. He had been introduced to more of Cora's friends, as well as to Mr. Jonathan Whitfield who, much to his relief, was the very antithesis of Livingston. He had expressed genuine delight at seeing Cora again, and had heartily congratulated them both on their marriage. As the strains of the first dance began, Robert had almost forgotten about him, when he spotted him out of the corner of his eye, looking daggers in Robert's direction. Suddenly emboldened, and wanting there to be no mistaking to whom Cora's heart belonged, he made a great show of leading her onto the dance floor and taking her into his arms.
Cora knew what her husband was up to, and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Really, Robert," she chided. "There's no need for such a display."
"I want to make it quite clear to Livingston—and to any of the other men in the room who might be leering at you—that they are barking up the wrong tree." Robert had never considered himself a jealous man, but he would have been blind to not see the way several of their guests had eyed his wife.
"Don't you trust me?" Cora questioned.
"Implicitly, my darling," he assured as he began to sweep her across the floor. "It's them I don't trust. More specifically, I don't trust Andrew Livingston."
"Nor do I," Cora admitted, casting her eyes downward momentarily. "I could strangle my mother for inviting him without even a thought as to how it make me feel. But then, Mother has never been one to ask permission when it came to anything."
"Well, there is one thing for which I'm glad she didn't seek your permission." Robert grinned as he watched Cora's cheeks blush crimson, thanking God-and not for the first time-that Martha Levinson had dragged her daughter across the Atlantic.
"Me, too," she whispered, returning his smile.
The evening had passed without incident, and Robert found that he was beginning to relax and enjoy himself. He had laughed as he watched Cora dance with her brother, Harold looking as if he prayed to be anywhere else than where he was. As yet another dance ended, Robert having danced the obligatory dance with his mother-in-law, he glanced up in time to see Cora accept a glass of champagne from a footman before making her way back to him. He watched with some amusement as she downed the drink in one large gulp before raising her eyes.
"The next dance is the gallop," she explained, holding up her empty flute. "I need all the fortification I can get."
"You don't have to dance with him, Cora; not if it makes you that uncomfortable." He hated seeing her so ill at ease.
"Oh, I think I do. If I don't, he'll make a huge scene and I'll never hear the end of it."
The words had only just left her mouth when Mr. Livingston appeared beside her, taking her hand in his. Robert glared at the man as he watched Cora startle at the contact. "I do believe it's time for our dance, Cora."
The way his voice had caressed his wife's Christian name, and his insistence upon using it, made Robert's blood boil. He saw Cora's eyes flash, a sure sign to anyone who truly knew her that she was not at all amused. Livingston, however, did not seem to get the hint.
"Shall we?" He tucked Cora's hand into the crook of his arm.
Pressing her lips into a tight smile, she nodded. "Of course." She glanced back at Robert, who gave her a nod of encouragement. All he really wanted to do was take her in his arms and whisk her away.
Cora shuddered as Andrew placed his hand on her back. "I've been looking forward to this dance all evening."
She said nothing, sighing in relief when the music began. She was grateful that the fast tempo of the dance did not allow much chance for conversation. She found that she could not maintain eye contact with him, the hungry look in his eyes working to make her stomach churn. As the dance ended she took a step back, intending to thank him and return to her husband. But as she moved he grabbed her hand, preventing her retreat.
"Thank you for the dance, Mr. Livingston," she said, trying to free her hand from his grasp, beginning to panic when he only pressed it tighter. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll rejoin my husband."
"Wouldn't you rather accompany me out to the balcony? It's such a lovely evening."
"No; I would not. Now, please. Let go of my hand." Her eyes searched desperately for Robert, finding him glaring at them both from the spot where she had left him.
"You can't honestly tell me that you're happy with him, Cora. An Englishman? An aristocrat? A man who, by all accounts, only married you for your money?"
She narrowed her eyes, feeling her face flush at his audacity. "How dare you," she seethed. "My happiness is none of your concern. But, since you asked, I am blissfully happy with Robert. Happier than I ever thought I could be. He loves me, and I love him. And, I won't tell you again. I am 'Lady Downton' to you. I've never given you my permission to call me Cora." Cora tried once more to free herself. He released her hand, and instead reached up to stroke her cheek with the backs on his fingers.
It occurred to her to raise her hand to slap him; to push him away. However, the thought had barely crossed her consciousness before Mr. Livingston was being pulled away from her before being punched soundly in the jaw.
"Robert!"
