Edith did not enjoy or embrace the role of calculating woman. Once, in her youth, she'd tried her hand at it against Mary, and lost. Whenever she thought back to that damned letter to the Ambassador, over seven years ago now, and all the things she and Anthony could have done in that time, regret would surge through her, bitter and cold. But she decided long ago that you can never go back, and so she chose to look forward.

And she was so looking forward to this particular evening.

Being the pragmatic and prepared woman she was, Edith had thought it all through. She told her parents she and Anthony were dining at his house, maybe followed by a walk in the park, and she would likely be late. At twenty-seven, she had hardly the need to ask permission to stay out, but knew they would worry. And when Anna was helping her dress that night, Edith had said casually, "I don't plan on returning this evening, Anna. Please don't wait up. And should anyone ask, cover for me. You don't mind, do you?"

"In fact I don't, Milady," Anna said, pushing the last pin into Edith's hair. "But if I may say something, please don't do anything you'll regret."

"Promise," was Edith's simple reply. Because she was certain she would never regret what she hoped might happen tonight.

It was not sordid, nor was it incredibly duplicitous. She wanted to spend the night with the man who would be her husband, who should have been her husband almost a decade ago. She had lied to no one, she had set nothing up. She would simply ask her Anthony, after dinner, when the lights were low and the servants in bed, if he might take her to bed.

Surely, she thought as her car pulled up to Anthony's home, that did not make her a calculating woman. The tightening in her stomach and the warmth that rushed through her at the thought made her a bit unsteady as she stepped out of the car. If he denied her request, they were only a week away from the wedding. If he did not, it would be among the most significant nights of her life. For her, it was rather a winning scenario either way. And that realization helped her relax.

By the time she was shown to Anthony, who was in the study with a book in hand, she felt almost drunk with anticipation. She pulled nervously on the champagne colored gown she wore. She had picked it out with such care, even knowing it may well end up in a heap on the floor. The beading down the front accentuated her bust and hips, she knew, and in the new fashion, had only a few buttons in the back. Strategic, not calculating. She could imagine the way it would slip easily from her shoulders and fall easily to her feet.

"Hello, darling," Anthony exclaimed," tossing the novel aside and snapping Edith out of her reverie. "Rather a warm evening, don't you agree? I hope you don't mind, I've had dinner laid out on the terrace," Anthony rambled, pecking Edith on the cheek. He was adorably unaware of what she was thinking, and this made her smile from the inside out.

"Not at all, fresh air might be a wonderful thing," she replied, blushing at the hidden truth of her words.

Dinner was pleasant. It had taken no time at all for the comfort of their friendship to return, as though they never parted. Edith inquired after the estate and his business ventures, Anthony asked about her writing and the newspapers. He genuinely encouraged her to continue, even after they're married, which surprised Edith.

"I don't know why it should," Anthony replied, finishing his dessert. "I would support you in anything you chose to undertake."

"You're not embarrassed by me as a journalist?"

"Should I be? You have marvelous opinions, and a great many of them. The whole of England should be so lucky to have access to them."

He said this casually, as though he was simply reiterating common knowledge. When Edith wiped her eyes he looked concerned.

"Is something the matter, Edith?"

"No, you silly idiot, nothing is the matter. I just love you. And I love the way you make me feel."

"And that's made you cry?"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, grinning as he laughed lightly at her.

When the night cooled and the wind picked up, they moved from the terrace to the quaint parlor at the front of the house. At ten o'clock Anthony told Evans, the old Butler, that he would see Lady Edith out and the staff was free to retire.

"Have you sent your car home?" Anthony asked, and Edith nodded. He frowned slightly, she noticed, in the way he does whenever he's working out a logistical puzzle. "Well perhaps we could hire a car when you're ready to leave. Shame I can't drive you myself. In the country I can generally manage the gears and steering alright, but in the narrow city roads, with traffic…" His voice trailed off when he caught her expression. "What?" he asked.

Edith was leaning into the corner of a richly upholstered Navy sofa, her bare feet tucked under her and her right arm stretched out over the top of it. Anthony was standing at the far end, finishing his customary glass of brandy. He was so tall, and broad, his eyes particularly blue in the low, evening light. Puzzled as he was as Edith's eyes wandered over him, he looked incredibly handsome.

"Perhaps we needn't hire a car at all," she suggested, her voice smaller than she intended. Still Anthony seemed somewhat behind.

Edith tilted her head to the side and bit her lip, waiting for him to catch up with her.

All at once he seemed to realize what she was getting at. He dropped his head and, to her surprise, laughed under his breath. "You are a persistent little thing, aren't you?"

"Surely the history of our relationship could have told you that."

Anthony nodded and walked slowly to her. With a heavy sigh, he sank down onto the couch beside her, close enough that her knees came to rest on his leg. He leaned his head back against her arm, a simple gesture that overjoyed her in its casual intimacy.

"I thought we understood each other last night," he said, rolling his head to look at her.

"We did, completely. You said you could wait a day or two for us to be together 'properly,' meaning a bed and privacy and time. All of which are waiting upstairs right now. Or I assume they are. I've never been above the first floor of any of your homes."

Anthony smiled at her. "I did say that, darling. Well remembered. What I meant was that I have no intention of sneaking you around. You deserve far better than that."

"I'm not sneaking anywhere. I told my family I would be here until late, I told Anna not to expect me back, and I plan on walking, plain as day, up those stairs with you into whichever of the many bedrooms you choose, which will be private and I assume will contain a bed. And then I plan on taking as much time with you as I need."

When Anthony didn't immediately argue, Edith took advantage. Using her arm to cradle his face, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. There was no shyness, no hesitation, and no prelude. She wanted him to know what was on her mind. Remembering their morning, she ran her tongue ever so lightly along his lip, hoping to drive him to response.

And to her immense satisfaction, it worked. His left hand was in her hair, on her neck, his lips urging hers open. Edith ran her arms under his coat as she stretched them both out onto the couch. Lying on top of him as she was, she appeared much more in control than she felt.

"Edith, my dear," Anthony managed. "I really think—"

But Edith would have none of it. She sat up, a leg on either side of him, pinning him to the settee. "No, Anthony, I won't hear anymore. Short of undressing myself right here I don't think I can make myself any clearer. This is what I want. You, Anthony Strallan, are who I want. Married or not, I intend to be yours in every sense of the word. Tonight. And none of it will matter come next Thursday anyway so you may as well stop fighting."

She was slightly flushed after her demand, and her arms were folded obstinately across her chest. She'd never in her life imagined this. Lady Edith, middle daughter of the Earl of Grantham and resident old maid, was literally demanding that her virtue be compromised. She would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if she wasn't so busy being determined.

Edith and Anthony stared at each other for a long and intense moment before he spoke.

"I was only going to recommend," he said gently, humor lighting his features, "that we go upstairs before we get too… lost. But by all means, if you wish to undress here I won't dare stop you."

Edith smiled and rolled her eyes, standing and pulling Anthony with both her hands. "Really? Do you really mean it, Anthony? Because I don't think I could bear another false start."

Standing close to her now, his full height looming over her, he suddenly seemed the picture of masculinity. He peered down at her, his eyes burning and a guilty smile playing on his lips. "My Edith, I am by no means immune to you. I can only say 'no' so many times before giving in. I believe I reached my threshold."

"Well thank God for that," she scoffed, following him out of the room.