To be honest, Rosamund made all the arrangements for their trip. She had offered to – seemed pleased to – work out all the details for him. Robert, frankly, was relieved. He knew his efforts would inevitably be disastrous, as he was never any good at that sort of thing. He wasn't a romantic by any stretch of the imagination.

Not that he wanted the trip to be romantic. He simply wanted Cora to have a nice time, to forget herself for a while, to smile again.

Rosamund threw herself into the task so thoroughly that Robert wondered if plans with her own suitor had gone awry. She spent the whole next day in the village, and when she returned, with a sheaf of telegrammed responses to her enquiries and requests to London, she handed him a list.

"Now, here is the hotel information with the room number there," she pointed with her index finger as she talked him through the list. "There is the restaurant and your reservation, your train information, and, as I knew you probably wouldn't know what to get her, here is the name of the shop that carries her favorite perfume, and the name of the perfume." Rosamund looked at him. "Cora's almost out of it; she mentioned it to me the other day, along with her regrets that she hadn't bought more before she left New York. I asked around until I found where they carry it in London. She'll love it. You can nip out and get it whilst she rests from the train ride. Speaking of which…" she leafed through the stack of papers in her hand and pulled out two pieces of paper, handing these to him too. "Your train tickets."

Robert looked at her in awe. "You're bloody brilliant!"

Her lips twitched. "I have arranged for a few surprises for you both as well."

His face fell. "Rosamund… what did you do?"

Rosamund patted his arm and smirked. "You'll see." She sighed when his expression remained unchanged. "Robert, dear, it's nothing horrible. Don't you trust your sister?"

"Of course I do," he said, although his countenance was still skeptical.

"You told her, right? Told Cora to pack for London?"

Robert nodded. "She was somewhat surprised, Rosamund. We haven't been anywhere alone together since our honeymoon trip. But she agreed to it."

"Well then. It's definitely time for a few days alone." His sister grinned and raised an eyebrow. "I think it'll be a trip to remember."

Rosamund refused to elaborate upon this enigmatic remark.

As Robert walked through London the next day – Valentine's Day – he feared he'd made a mistake with this trip. "Why do I listen to Rosamund?" he muttered, knowing this was unfair, as nearly every other plan that his sister had hatched throughout their lives had had a way of working out – eventually. He sighed and hoped that this was one that would see positive results, if only eventually.

They'd left Downton early in the morning to catch the train. Cora's silence seemed louder to him than the noise of the train. As soon as they sat down, she pulled a book out of her handbag and disappeared behind it. When he did catch a glimpse of her face, it wasn't sulky or excited or even content. She just looked sad.

Robert buried his sigh and tried to concentrate on his own book. But he couldn't. He couldn't stop thinking about the girl he'd met at that ball all those months ago. The laughing, light-hearted girl who'd agreed to marry him. But that Cora seemed to have slipped through his fingers somehow, no matter that he'd done the best he could to make her comfortable in her new life. It saddened him too. He felt he'd let her down.

Only a handful of sentences were exchanged between them from the time they left Downton to the time they were shown to their quite opulent suite of rooms at the Cavendish. Robert left his valet to unpack his things in his room, and knocked on the door to Cora's.

Her lady's maid opened the door, and Cora looked up from where she was supervising her own unpacking. "Yes?"

"I have an errand to run, Cora, whilst you rest. I'll meet you in the sitting room at seven?"

Cora nodded, and Robert left.

Going to the shop on Rosamund's list, Robert purchased and had the clerk wrap the perfume. It was exorbitantly priced, but, upon smelling it, he knew it was worth every shilling, for he recognized it as part of her now familiar scent.

Putting the package in his coat pocket, he left the shop and began to walk back toward the hotel. He knew he could get a hansom cab, but he felt like he needed the stroll to clear his head. As the time for their "romantic" dinner neared, Robert grew increasingly nervous. He could see the plan Rosamund had developed for their evening so easily backfiring…. And Cora had been so quiet on the train. What could she be thinking now?

Cora truly didn't know what to think. She was confused. Robert had walked in the previous morning and asked if it was alright that they go to London. For Valentine's Day. She had to admit that her heart had jumped at this, and she agreed to it.

But his behavior toward her was no different from before – well, besides being a tad more nervous. That evening they had resumed their nightly ritual, after being apart for nearly a week for her cycle, and it was the same.

On the train she found she couldn't even bear to look at him. Cora wasn't angry at him, but the thought of a "Valentine's trip" alone when nothing seemed to have changed between them…. She felt as if he was mocking her somehow.

Yet, she knew he wouldn't do that. Cora would be the last to deny that her husband had his faults. He had a quick temper, he misinterpreted things sometimes, he could be awkward and strangely shy about the oddest things. But one thing he wasn't was cruel or hurtful. And though he might not love her, she thought that perhaps he had at least grown fond of her.

Valentine's Day, however, wasn't for fondness. It was for love. Her heart ached, and, in a way she couldn't have predicted, the closer they got to London in their private compartment on the train, the lonelier she felt. She thought if she looked at him, she might cry. But she was a Levinson, and Levinsons persevered.

So she hid behind her book, and when they got to the hotel, she hid in her room, somewhat relieved that he had gone out.

Feeling refreshed after her nap, Cora took great care in selecting what to wear for dinner. She wasn't sure why, except that she always wanted to look her best for Robert, to make him proud to have her on his arm. Their match had certainly raised eyebrows, and many people in the Crawleys' social set continued to be cynical about his choice of an American bride. But Cora knew her own strengths and what mattered to this sort. She didn't agree with it all, but she could work within it. Just as she had with the household at Downton, she'd managed to make a few friends and gain a few supporters. But there were still so many to be won over.

If nothing else, she could cut a nice figure tonight at dinner and perhaps win a few more. She sighed to think that such frivolous things influenced people so, but it had been the same at home, and so she'd learned to use it to her advantage. And it was for him. Finding her place among his set, everything she did, really, was for him. Even if he didn't love her, it comforted her somewhat to know that he at least recognized and truly appreciated it.

Dismissing her maid, Cora examined her reflection in the mirror once more, glancing at the time. Almost seven. Dabbing behind her ears what little she had left of her perfume, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

Robert turned from where he had just placed her gift upon a table and caught his breath at the sight of her. She was…. "Beautiful," he exhaled. Her dress was new, he thought, and was a vibrant azure, making her eyes stand out even more than usual. Robert swallowed and tried not to gawk at her. "I mean, you look lovely, Cora."

Cora's cheeks colored, and she lowered her lashes, smiling a bit. She hadn't expected his first unguarded response, and it made her cheeks tingle with pleasure. She still didn't say anything, but her blush and smile were all Robert needed in answer.

Pointing at the box on the table, Robert smiled. "I got you a gift."

Walking over, Cora picked up the box and unwrapped it. She looked up at him in surprise when she saw what it was. "Robert! But… where did you… how did you know?"

Robert leaned close to her and said in a low voice. "A little bird named Rosamund might have helped a helpless man find the right gift for his pretty wife."

Cora's stomach flipped, the same way it used to when she would catch him smiling at her from across ballrooms during the season. She looked up at him and said in a low voice also, "Thank you, Robert. It… it means a lot to me. It's my favorite."

Pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek (and did he hear a faint gasp from her?), Robert could smell the fragrance of her perfume. Stepping back, he replied, "It's my favorite too," and realized that it was the absolute truth.

She stood there, hardly knowing what to think. Then he picked up her evening cloak and held it out to her. "Shall we?"

Nodding, Cora let him put the cloak over her shoulders. She clasped it shut and picked up her muff while he slid into his own coat, then took his arm when he offered it. She felt slightly dazed as he led her out of the hotel and handed her into the waiting carriage.

Somehow, over the past quarter hour, Robert and Cora had switched places. Whereas Robert had grown calm, her blushes and smiles having set his mind more at ease, Cora's nerves had gotten to a point where she hoped she wasn't visibly trembling. Inside the dimly lit carriage, Cora could see that Robert's face wore a contented smile – that he kept turning upon her – and it set her heart aflutter. He didn't love her, she knew he didn't love her, and the evening wasn't about romance, but he'd stirred something in her already tonight that she had been desperately attempting to bury for over a month now.

Cora grew increasingly afraid that this stirring of feeling would get the better of her and cause her to do or say something foolish. She endeavored to keep herself from shaking, but it was no use.

Finally they arrived at the restaurant, checked their outer garments, and followed a waiter to a candlelit table that was elaborately decorated for the holiday. A bottle of the finest champagne already sat in its icer, and the waiter opened it immediately after handing them menus, pouring them each a glass and leaving them to decide what to order.

Robert lifted his glass, prompting Cora to do the same. He noticed that her hand shook a little, but he didn't say anything about that, merely pronounced a simple, "To us," before clinking his glass to hers and taking a sip.

Cora, however, didn't just sip. She nearly drained her glass with her first drink. Robert drew his brows together as he watched her, but, again, didn't say a word.

Clearing this throat, Robert perused the menu before asking, "Duck?"

Cora finished the few drops left in the flute before nodding. "Yes. That sounds nice."

"More?" he offered, picking up the bottle.

In answer, she held her glass out to him, and he filled it, his jaw nearly dropping when she did the same thing. Robert still had the bottle in his hand, and he blinked a few times in disbelief when she held her glass out again for a refill.

"Cora? Perhaps you should wait for them to bring the bread first."

Putting her glass down, she muttered something that sounded to him like "spoilsport," and began glancing around the room. The champagne had made her feel much less nervous, but it had made her head feel very light as well. Not that this was an unpleasant feeling at all. Cora's attention returned to their table once the waiter brought the bread basket. She picked up a roll and began to butter it while Robert ordered for them.

"Robert!" she said, shocking herself a bit with how loud her voice sounded. So she lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. "Robert, you should have a piece of bread. It's very good." Then she giggled.

Robert's eyebrows rose. Oh my, he thought. They really did not drink champagne very much, and now he remembered why. She'd gotten like this on New Year's Eve as well. He would have to keep it from her the rest of the night.

At the time they finished their entrées the plan had been thus far successful; Cora calmed down somewhat as they ate, and they both drank water, the champagne going untouched. Just after they ordered dessert though, an acquaintance caught Robert's eye across the room, waving him over. Asking Cora if it would be alright and getting a smile and nod of assent from her, he went over for a moment to say hello.

At least, he'd only meant to be a moment.

By the time Robert was making his way back to the table, the dessert had arrived, and evidently Cora had gotten the waiter to fill both their glasses again. Finding herself still nervous, and even more as the buzz from the initial two glasses had started to wear off, Cora had already drank her own glass – and was starting on his.

Just catching himself from bellowing at her from the middle of the room to stop, Robert sat down at the table, already too late. And even later than he'd thought.

"Two more glasses, Cora? Was that wise?"

Cora peered at him, "I don't know. Was it? And there were three glasses." She giggled.

Robert groaned. He'd seen men have to all but carry drunken wives from restaurants before, but he never thought he'd have to be one of them.

Suddenly she was crooking her finger at him. "I have something to tell you, Robert, but it's a secret. Come closer."

"Cora, I really don't think I should…." He looked around to see if anyone was listening to them.

She shrugged. "I can tell the entire restaurant. I don't mind who knows." Her voice had gotten slightly louder.

"For God's sake, Cora," he muttered, embarrassed, as he stood up, picked up his chair and put it down facing her where she half turned in her own chair. He humored her because he hoped to prevent her from shouting in what, especially on Valentine's Day, was a very crowded restaurant.

Cora grinned. "You have to come closer," she told him in that same hoarse whisper.

Feeling utterly self-conscious, Robert leaned closer to her, turning his head slightly so she could tell the secret in his ear. Imagine his astonishment when she put one gloved hand on the side of his face and turned it to kiss him full on the mouth. His eyes widened and he tried to pull away. Cora was having none of that and moved her hand to the back of his head to keep it just where she wanted it.

Cora rested her other hand on his knee under the cover of the tablecloth as she prodded his lips with her tongue, wanting desperately to deepen the kiss. Closing his eyes now, Robert opened his mouth to allow her tongue to seek his, forgetting for a moment where he was. This was beyond the chaste kisses they'd shared even in their own bed. Certainly, there had been open-mouthed kisses, but the way Cora kissed him now… there was a heat, an urgency, that he'd never felt from her before.

Robert liked it.

So for a little while, he lost himself in her kiss, still reeling to the point where he hadn't even put his arms around her. Then he felt Cora's hand begin to travel up his leg. Surely she wouldn't –

More abruptly than he would have liked, Robert pulled back, startling Cora so that she nearly toppled off her chair. Catching her neatly, Robert sat her back down, slightly harder than he meant to, and it was a wonder her teeth didn't chatter together. Cora merely giggled, grateful for once for the usually odious bustle that protected her hind quarters in this case.

"Are you stark raving mad, woman?" he hissed, his eyes virtually popping out of his head.

Cora only lunged forward again. He kept her at bay, holding her away from him by her upper arms. "Are you going to go to the other side of the table, Robert? I don't think I can stop," she whispered, slurring a trifle.

Robert stared at her, frowning, mumbling out of the corner of his mouth, "I can't just yet."

With the little movement his grip on her upper arms allowed, she moved a forearm and lifted a corner of the tablecloth to have a peek. "Cora!" he hissed, but not before she'd seen what he meant.

She giggled again. "Oh my. I suppose you can't, Robert. What shall we do while we wait here?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner.

Robert turned bright red. "Cora, please, stop," he begged her in a soft voice, becoming aware that people had begun to stare at them.

Cora heaved a great pitiful sigh. "Fine." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as best she could while he still had a hold of them. "Can I have more champagne?"

Robert let go her arms and watched her for a moment to make sure she wouldn't move. Then he reached across the table for the champagne bottle, watching her face brighten. He poured a glass and picked it up. Before Cora could uncross her arms and snatch it from him, he drank it down himself. He felt he needed it, perhaps had even earned it. When he poured a second and drank that down as well, Cora let out a squawk.

"No fair!" she cried, beyond realizing where she was or who might be watching. Then she started to pout.

Finally able to stand up, he carried the chair and champagne bottle back to his side of the table.

Looking at her pathetic face, Robert started to chuckle. "Cora, if you eat all your dessert you can have one more glass of champagne. But just one."

Robert poured himself another glass while her eyes lit up and she started in on her dessert. He was starting to feel nice and relaxed himself, and he found that he wanted a repeat of that kiss. He grew warm thinking of it, and he knew he would have to get her back to the hotel before letting her kiss him again.

Or perhaps just the carriage.

Almost like a child finishing a meal, Cora pointed to her plate, elated, when she'd eaten all her dessert. As promised, Robert poured her another glass, and, thinking what the hell, poured the last of the bottle into his own. They toasted once more, and suddenly it hit Robert how much he liked Cora's wicked smile and the mischievous gleam in her eyes as she drank down the champagne.

Perhaps Rosamund's plan was working after all.