I'm sorry this took such a long time to update, I really really hope you like it. This is for tudorrose because I owe her so much writing.

The light in the restaurant was low. Candles flickers on each of the table, and gaslights, mounted on the walls seemed to burn at half-light, like on old nights in the hospital. She smiled at the tablecloth at the thought. There were enough people in the restaurant for no one to notice them, not too many for them to talk quietly and still be able to hear each other.

He ordered the wine, and poured it into their glasses when it arrived.

It was a pleasing shade of dark red.

"So," he told her, "What have you been up to?"

She smiled at him incredulously.

"You want me to tell you everything I've done in the last four years?" she asked him, smiling.

"Why, is it difficult?" he asked her, "I could quite easily tell you everything I've done. Kept very bad order over the arrangements on my estate, partly because I was running a small cottage hospital in the village, partly because I was disagreeing with Hetty about how to run said estate. And that was it. Until the last few days."

"Roland-…" she murmured softly, torn between wanting to smile at the humour in his voice and pity at what he was telling her.

"At least tell me how your brother's wedding was?" he asked her.

"It was lovely," she replied, "Very quiet. It had been a long time coming."

She moved her thumb slowly around the base of her glass, without thinking about it.

"They are the best weddings," he replied quietly.

"Yes," she agreed softly.

There was silence.

"Where's Alexander this evening?" she asked him after a moment, "I hope he doesn't feel like you've abandoned him."

"Oh, definitely not. He's bound to be sick of me by now. But no, he'll be back in London by now, I expect," he replied.

"He's gone home?"

"Yes," he told her, as if it was completely apparent.

"I didn't know you were staying on after him. Are you visiting someone else?"

"Yes, I'm having dinner with you, Grace."

"No, someone else, I mean," All of a sudden it dawned on her. "You didn't have to stay just for me!" she insisted, "If I'd know, I'd-…"

"Do you imagine for a second that I didn't want to?" he asked her swiftly.

She fell silent. He asked it so steadily, and so seriously that she did not know what to say. Now that he asked her, she did not, in truth, if she dared to be honest with herself for a moment, imagine that he wouldn't want to be here with her. Particularly given what he'd said about Hetty to her a few days ago. But it was wrong of her to think of that now, and she certainly wasn't going to openly say that that was what she thought.

"I didn't know," she explained after a moment, "I just-… I didn't know. I'm very touched that you would stay here for me."

He smiled at her.

"Trust me, it's not the sacrifice you make it out to be," he told her softly, "I don't think I've looked forward to anything as much as I was looking forward to this trip since I was a very small boy. Finding out that you were here as well,-… well, I didn't feel like it was Alexander who was having his birthday, I can say that much."

"Roland," she murmured softly. His words touched her, they affected her deeply.

"I've missed you Grace," he looked at her very clearly over the two half-empty glasses of wine.

Her eyes flashed with the seriousness of her look, his honesty was striking after what felt like years of dancing around the issue that was really at hand, and she saw his gaze following the red of her lips as she raised her head swiftly to look at him.

"Roland, please," she told him very quietly, "Don't say anything you'll regret."

She needed to know that he meant what he said in the next few moments. She just needed to.

"Then we have nothing to worry about," he told her firmly, "I've been wanting to say this ever since I saw you in the Ritz bar the other night, exactly this. I love you Grace Carter," he was leaning forwards in his seat, intently, his voice low, his hands reaching for her across the table, "I've wanted you and I've wanted you, and I love you, I've loved you for years."

She watched him from across the table, her eyes full of such tremendous feeling, and surprise, and relief, almost. Gently, she reached out towards him, taking one of his hands in both of hers, caressing his fingers softly between hers, playing with them, almost.

"You're sure you're not only saying this because things with Hetty are difficult?" she asked him.

"I'm sure," he told her, "Believe me, I couldn't be more sure."

She was looking at their hands, twined together now on the white tablecloth. It looked very much as if a small smile was lingering on her lips.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

She raised her head, and sure enough, her smile widened.

"I'm wondering if you still want to order dinner," she told him.

A smile dawned on his face too. He shook his head.

"It can definitely wait," he assured her.

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