As the carriage pulled away from the restaurant, Robert wondered if he'd made a mistake about Rosamund's plan working. Cora had gone quiet again.

After the business of the bill, Robert helped his giggling wife to stand, sliding an arm firmly about her waist to guide her to the coat check. Cora grinned at him as he draped her cloak around her shoulders, clasped it for her, and tucked her hands in the muff. She leaned against the wall, watching while he put his own coat, hat, and gloves on, thinking how magnificent he looked.

They stood together just outside the restaurant, waiting, their carriage somewhere in a long queue. Robert's arm was around her waist again to steady her. The cold air had cleared Cora's head a trifle, and she glanced at the other couples waiting for their conveyances. All the ladies were standing straight, their hands atop their husbands' or beaus' arms most properly – not swaying against their escorts dizzily while they held them up.

Cora's face fell. In her desire not to make a fool of herself, to calm her nerves with a drink or two, she'd overstepped the mark – and by no small amount – and had made fools of them both. She'd been loud and ridiculous, had kissed him and even groped him, in a public place. And, worse, where at least one acquaintance of his had been present. She was certain there would be talk. And she was certain that, even if he wasn't showing it now, Robert was disappointed in her.

The one thing Cora had wanted to do that night, since she knew romance was too much to hope for, was to conduct herself with grace and dignity, to make Robert proud. And she'd failed. Miserably.

And that's how she felt now. Miserable.

Miserable and still very drunk. Their carriage finally pulled up, and as Robert helped her in, she stumbled, and he caught her, laughing lightly. Oh God, she thought. I am a subject of derision even to my own husband.

Robert settled beside her as the carriage door shut, but felt her shrink back from him. And she was too quiet. Something was wrong.

Concerned, Robert looked at her face in the dim light of the carriage lamps. She was still flushed from the champagne and the cold, and at first he thought she'd fallen asleep already, but the faintest movement of her eyelashes told him she wasn't asleep, merely looking down.

"Cora?" His concern for her came out in his voice, as he thought she might feel ill. "Are you alright?"

Raising her eyes to meet his, she said, "Yes, Robert. I'm fine." He didn't look angry or disappointed. And he wasn't laughing at her. Actually, he looked somewhat relieved at her words.

"Then," he lowered his own eyes before he continued, lowering his voice as well, "might you kiss me again? Like you did in the restaurant?" He felt himself blush that he would ask such a question of her and then lifted his eyes, almost afraid of her response.

Robert was grateful that he had looked up. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have seen the complete transformation her expression underwent – from sadness and distance to relief and joy in a matter of moments.

Because in those few moments, Cora (still inebriated and so her wits a trifle slow), thinking about his tentative query, his tone, his countenance, his blush – she thought she detected… disappointment. But not in her outrageous behavior. It was disappointment that she might not repeat it – that part of it, at least. She was sure that it had been – and would be – no small concern to him how they'd appeared to others; nevertheless, he wasn't concentrating upon that. Whether it was because he was too drunk himself to care or not, he wasn't thinking about that.

Robert wanted her to kiss him again. Which meant…he must have enjoyed it.

Cora smiled at him, gratified when she saw her own smile reflected on his face. She moved closer to him on the seat, leaned forward, and kissed him. Taking one gloved hand out of the muff, she gently stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.

This time, not having been blindsided, Robert slipped his arms beneath her cloak and around her waist, pulling her closer to him. And when her tongue ran across his lips, requesting entry, he immediately, willingly, complied.

Within a matter of moments, Robert wanted nothing more than to be nearer to her. He wanted to touch her skin, hold her against him. But he knew that nearly everywhere his hand could travel while they continued to kiss, ever more intensely, he would meet fabric. Yards of it. The steel boning of a corset. The padding of a bustle. He also knew enough about women's fashions from having to listen to Rosamund prattle on about it all that even if he was bold enough to lift her skirt, underneath would be another and another and, as it was winter, probably several more layers under that.

It was enough to drive a man mad.

And he felt he might go mad. His senses were filled with her, and her tender touch on the back of his head combined with her fevered kisses intoxicated him more than the champagne had. He needed to feel her skin.

Tugging off one of his gloves behind her back, he left one arm securely around her waist, bringing his other hand up to touch her face gently. After a few seconds, his hand trailed down to her throat, caressing it before moving down to press the flat of his palm to her skin just below her collar bone, his fingers playing with a ringlet from her coiffure that rested there.

Then, not sure how she would react, he moved his hand again, tracing his fingers tentatively over her décolletage, ready to stop at any moment if it made her uncomfortable – and hoping that it didn't.

Robert felt her gasp against his mouth, but she didn't pull away from him, and she barely even paused in her kiss. This emboldened him, and he repeated the action, this time lingering several more seconds with his feather light touch upon these upper curves of each breast. Cora, being more modest about such things than most women, had her evening gowns cut with a slightly higher neckline than was strictly fashionable, but as Robert considered it now, in some ways it was even more tantalizing. It left him wanting more.

When Robert grazed his fingers there once more, Cora made a guttural noise of pleasure. She removed her other hand from the muff. But as this hand began to travel up his leg, Robert – more aware this time of what she had in mind – moved his hand to cover hers, stilling it. She drew back from him, disappointed.

"Cora," he said, quietly. "We're nearly there, and I don't want to have to sit here awkwardly in the carriage whilst recovering from your touch before we can go inside," he explained, bringing her gloved hand to his lips and kissing it, his voice dropping to a whisper, "where I do hope we can continue."

Cora grinned at him. "I would like that very much," she whispered back.

Robert kept hold of her hand while she kissed him softly on the cheek, aware that they had arrived at the hotel and not wanting to delay any future events further.

Slightly less tipsy now, Cora managed to exit the carriage and enter the hotel without stumbling, her arm resting properly upon his. Of course, in this instance, after what had happened during their return journey, she rather wished for an excuse for his arm to steal around her.

Once inside their suite, they parted ways, like a proper married couple, but not before Robert whispered to her, "I'll knock on your door in a little while. To continue where we left off."

Grinning at each other, Robert and Cora disappeared behind their respective bedroom doors.

Neither had to wait very long for lady's maid and valet, Robert having stopped downstairs at the desk to request that someone summon them to their suite.

Unexpectedly, each servant carried something to give to mistress and master.

Cora's maid presented her with a wrapped box. When asked from whence it came, the maid answered that Lady Rosamund had given her specific instructions to give this to her after she returned from dinner that night. With curiosity piqued, Cora unwrapped and opened the box. Nestled on top of the tissue paper was a note in Rosamund's hand.

Cora, darling, she read. A gift for you on Valentine's Day. Use these well, and remember that a little imagination can go a long way. With warmest affection, Rosamund

Parting the tissue paper, Cora pulled a dozen silk scarves in a variety of sizes and colors out of the box. They were exquisite, but Cora wrinkled her brow trying to make out what Rosamund might have meant in her note. Use these well. Shrugging, she set the scarves aside and had her lady's maid begin undressing her, puzzling over the cryptic message and gift.

And then, an idea broke through both her mystification and the haze of intoxication that remained, and Cora grinned. Her lady's maid carefully hid her surprise when her mistress issued her next instructions: to let her hair remain loose, to leave her chemise – her last remaining garment – on her rather than put her in her nightdress, and to bring more candles in from the sitting room and put them around the bedroom instead.

Once the candles had all been lit and things had been tidied for the night, Cora dismissed her maid and took off the chemise, draping it over a chair and pulling the box of scarves toward her. Her maid had wanted to put them away, but Cora had stopped her. Her imagination had taken hold of her, for better or for worse.

In the meantime, Robert's valet walked into his room with a bucket of ice containing a bottle of champagne, two champagne flutes, and a note. Handing his master the note, the valet put the other items on a table and began his tasks.

Upon reading the note, Robert chuckled. "Rosamund, you never cease to amaze me, you meddlesome sister, you."

Her note read: My darling brother, I hope by now you have figured out a way – or maybe many ways – to make Cora happy on this trip. If not, perhaps this will help you with your self-appointed (and might I say, very worthy) task. Have a lovely Valentine's Day evening. Love, Rosamund

Robert supposed this was what she had meant yesterday by surprises for them both. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he wondered if Cora had gotten something as well – and what it might be.

As much as he would like to hurry his valet along, Robert knew it would take Cora much longer to change than it would him, so he just kept wondering and let the man go at his own pace. Soon enough, he was outfitted in his night attire and his valet left the room.

Sitting down to wait for a little while longer, to give her enough time to finish undressing, Robert thought about their dinner and the carriage ride. He grinned, but then he started pondering over her actions. Were they merely the result of overindulgence? What if it wore off and she decided she had made a mistake? That she didn't want him to go to her after all? Robert frowned. This would make him not only disappointed, but it would actually hurt. He wasn't even sure why.

Standing again, he went to open the champagne and poured some into each glass. He drank one of them – Dutch courage in the face of his misgivings – before filling it again. Taking a deep breath, Robert picked up the glasses and left the room.

Robert felt relief course through him at hearing Cora's "Come in!" after he knocked on her door. When he opened it and saw her, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. Once he did finally catch his breath, he exhaled a drawn out, "Oh… my… God…."

Cora stood in the middle of the candlelit room, her dark hair curling around her bare shoulders. She had wrapped one of the largest silk scarves, an emerald green one, around her and tied it closed below her right shoulder. Only it didn't quite meet, and as she stood there nervously with her weight on her left foot, the tiniest sliver of the curve of her naked hip was visible to Robert. Visible too were most of her long, shapely legs, as the scarf didn't quite reach mid-thigh. Her face was crimson and a timid, expectant smile upon it after watching him gaze at her appreciatively. Her blue eyes shone exceptionally bright.

Blinking, wondering if he might be dreaming, Robert stood there, gaping. He'd never actually seen her this… bare before. They had always been together in that respect in the dark, and generally her nightdress remained on. So, of course, it must be a dream. And he couldn't move for fear of waking.

Tilting her head, frowning, Cora took a step forward. "Robert? Is something wrong?"

Robert swallowed several times, as his throat seemed to be stuck. When he found his voice, he said, "No. There is most certainly nothing wrong." He shook his head gently and smiled at her. It wasn't a dream. And his earlier uncertainty about whether she wanted him here or not was completely dispelled.

Crossing the distance between them, he handed her the champagne glass and leaned down to kiss her cheek gently. Her half-naked state notwithstanding, Robert didn't want to frighten her by being too forward. Besides, he quite liked standing half a pace from her to take in just how luminous and stunning she was. At least – he liked it for now.

Cora sipped the champagne this time, watching him beneath lowered lashes, finding herself pleased with the way he was looking at her, smiling at her. Finishing her glass, she set it on the mantel. "Come with me," she whispered and took his hand.

Letting her lead him to a corner of the room to have him sit on the chaise lounge there, Robert too finished his champagne while his eyes remained fixed upon her, still utterly dazzled and amazed. Taking his glass from him, she walked across the room to put it next to hers, knowing his eyes were following her movements. Then she retrieved the box of scarves from her dressing table.

Standing in front of him, Cora grinned. "Robert, I do want to continue where we left off. But first I want to play a little game." She giggled.

Robert's brows rose. "A game?"

Cora nodded and walked around behind him, pulling out a scarf. "We'll call it a form of Blind Man's Bluff," she whispered into his ear. "Only you'll stay seated."

"I don't understand." He turned around to look at her.

"Eyes forward," she laughed. "I'll explain while I put the blindfolds on."

"Blindfolds? As in more than one?" He was beginning to wonder if that one glass of champagne had made her drunk all over again.

"Yes." Very gently, Cora began tying scarves over his eyes. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and when you get one right, I will not only remove one blindfold," she bent and whispered in his ear again, "you will get a treat to one of your other senses."

Grinning once more, Robert sat up a little straighter on the chaise, liking the sound of this game, as well as the mischief in her voice.

"But," she continued, tying one last scarf over the others, "if you answer a question wrong, you not only don't get a treat, but I put one of the blindfolds back on."

"What kind of questions?" he asked, feeling a bit disoriented with eleven scarves tied over his eyes.

"No, no, now, Robert." Her voice was stern. "I ask the questions." Then she giggled again.

At first the questions she asked were ridiculously easy: what was her mother's name, where had they first met, etc. And for every right answer, as good as her word, she would untie a scarf and throw it on the bed. Then she would reward him. For hearing she would whisper something salacious in his ear or sing a verse of a bawdy song for him. (He had no idea she knew any bawdy songs, but he liked that she did, more than he probably should like it.) For smell she would put her hair to his nose so he could smell her lavender soap and once she brought her perfume bottle over so he could inhale its fragrance. For taste she had a box of chocolates, but he liked when she rewarded him with a kiss even better. She concentrated on these three senses mainly, while the questions were easy, but when she got down to the last few questions, the more difficult ones, she upped the ante.

Several scarves had to be tied around his eyes again as he answered questions about her best childhood friend or her favorite meals from home incorrectly. She knew he couldn't possibly remember everything she told him, and they were still getting to know one another, but when he did answer one of these tougher questions correctly, her heart would jump a little. And she was happy to reward him with the sense of touch – once taking his hand and running it along her bare hip, once bringing it to her abdomen to rest (making her stomach do a flip), for example.

Robert's head was swimming as she concentrated on each of his other four senses in turn, and this was really the only reason he couldn't answer the more difficult questions correctly. He actually knew all the answers to her questions but was having trouble keeping his head clear enough to respond. And after he had answered the question correctly that enabled her to remove the next to last blindfold, she took his hand and slipped it beneath the silk fabric still wrapped around her to have him cup a breast. That combined with her soft sigh at his touch him drove him wild, and he desperately wanted to continue where they'd left off in the carriage.

Now his head was spinning even faster, and he wasn't sure he could answer any more of her questions correctly in the state in which she had gotten him. And he wouldn't be able to stand it if she put a blindfold back on him. The game had been fun, but now he was very ready to be done with this teasing before it became more like torture.

Cora was silent a moment, affording Robert time to collect his wits. When she asked her next question, it was in a different voice, serious instead of playful, quieter.

"Why did you bring me on a Valentine's Day trip, Robert?" She had to remind herself to breathe while she waited for him to respond.

He took some time before he spoke, not having been ready for that particular question, and knowing that "because Rosamund said I should" was not the answer she would want. In fact, Robert wasn't so sure that was the real answer. Yes, she did tell him to, and she did plan the whole trip, but that wasn't why he'd gone to her for advice in the first place. It was because Cora was unhappy, and he'd wanted to make her happy again. And the idea sounded to him like the perfect one. He'd even had an argument over it with his mother when he told her they were going to London for a few days, as she thought taking a "Valentine's trip" ridiculous. But he wouldn't cancel it.

Thinking about it now, he became confused as to why this seemed the best option to cheer her. All he knew was that Rosamund's words about his affection for Cora being "lukewarm" had stung. Perhaps his affection had been, in the beginning, tepid, but sitting there, blindfolded, listening to Cora's somewhat irregular breathing, he knew it wasn't the case anymore. And now Robert's head spun for a different reason.

Robert didn't think he loved her – he wasn't even sure he knew what that felt like. What he did know was her happiness had become at least as important to him as his own. If not more so. Why else would he allow his sister to plan a "romantic" trip for them or defend it to his mother? His affections were well beyond "lukewarm."

And when her smile had all but disappeared from the rooms and halls of Downton, he felt he had lost his own smile as well.

No one in his entire life had affected him even close to that way.

Finally, he answered her. "Because, Cora. I wanted – needed – to make you happy. Somehow. You're my wife. We share a life together. Do you think I haven't noticed how downhearted you've been? I…." He had to pause to take a deep breath. "I wanted to make you smile again. Like you used to do. I've missed it."

The silence that followed this unnerved Robert. "Cora?" He removed the blindfold. She knelt close to his feet, looking up at him, her eyes filled with tears.

Alarmed that she might cry, he sat down on the floor beside her. "Cora, I'm sorry if that was the wrong answer. I just thought—"

Cora turned her head toward him. She was smiling. "No," she whispered. "No, it wasn't the wrong answer at all."

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry?" He rubbed her back comfortingly, forgetting her state of dishabille entirely, more intent upon stopping her tears from falling.

"Sometimes I cry because I'm happy." Cora laughed a little at the look on his face.

"But I've never seen you cry when you're happy." He drew his brows together in confusion.

She grew serious again, fixing his eyes with an intent gaze. "I haven't been this happy since I left home."

Robert took her hand, feeling again as if he had let her down. "I'm so sorry, Cora. I should have done more, been more for you since our marriage. I never wanted you to be sad."

Smiling, she touched his face tenderly. "It's not your fault. I know you're doing everything you can, Robert. It's just different from what I thought it would be like. I went into it with eyes open, but still…. I'll be fine." She brushed his hair back from his forehead before repeating, "I'll be fine – now." It wasn't a declaration of love, but she knew now that at least he cared about her. Cared whether she was happy or not. For now it was enough.

Looking down at her hand in his, he took a deep breath. "Cora, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may."

Now that he had the opportunity, he wasn't sure how to ask the question in a way that wouldn't hurt her. "What do you- How do you- I mean, do you feel-"

Cora chuckled. "Robert, whatever it is you're asking, it's better to just ask."

He raised his eyes to hers. "Do you still feel the way you did? The way you told me before we married?" Robert wasn't even sure why he wanted to know. But after her reaction to his answer to her question, he just… did.

She gazed at him almost a full minute before slowly nodding her head. "To be honest," she whispered, "I may be even more infatuated with you now than I was before."

Robert thought his heart might have skipped a beat. He knew what it cost her to say it, knowing he couldn't say it in return.

Yet, after she said that, she added, beginning to smile, "Enamored." She kissed his cheek. "Smitten." She kissed his temple. "Besotted." She kissed his chin. "Enchanted." She kissed his neck….

While she continued this way, Robert sat still, quite jumbled up. He felt undeserving of the exquisite creature who sat next to him pressing kisses to his face and neck, undeserving of her love for him. It made him feel terribly guilty. Except… she'd said she was happy now and that it would be fine. He wanted to believe her, and as he watched her, listened to the loving words she spoke, felt her kisses, he thought maybe it would be.

And then Cora moved from words to actions, kissing him on the mouth in the same manner she had earlier. She wanted to show him, if she could, how much she loved him, even if he didn't feel the same. She wanted him to look at her again the way he had before dinner, the way he had when he'd entered her bedroom earlier.

Robert let go her hand to wrap both his arms around her, to pull her onto his lap. And now there were no garments in the way to thwart his desire to touch her soft, silky skin. While his tongue explored her mouth, his hands began exploring her body in a way he'd never done before, reaching beneath the scarf wrapped around her. It pleased him to feel her shudder and sigh at his touch.

Then, all of a sudden, he felt her pull away from him, and he opened his eyes as she stood up, stepping a few feet away. He couldn't tear his eyes from her as she reached up to undo the knot in the green scarf, letting it fall away, her face turning crimson. But her eyes were bright and a saucy smile had come to her lips.

Robert sat there, speechless, dazzled. His eyes ran up and down her body in a way that made her blush creep down her throat to her chest. Finally, he stood up and walked over to her. He took her hand and kissed it, then looked in her eyes. "You're beautiful, Cora." When she looked down, blushing even more furiously, he put his other hand under her chin to lift her head back up. "Beautiful."

Cora's smile widened and she leaned up to kiss him, becoming increasingly fond of that particular activity. Robert's hands roamed over her again, caressing her back, trailing down to press his hands against her bare bottom. She gave a little squeak at this, surprised, but not displeased. Cora's hand strayed one more time below his waist, and this time he neither pulled back from her nor stopped her. Instead, she grinned against his lips to discover that he was already quite aroused, and she moved her hand over him gently through his nightclothes, grinning even wider when he groaned.

And suddenly, he needed to feel her skin against his. He took one step back and within a few quick motions he stood naked in front of her. But when he reached out to wrap his arms around her again, she held up her hand.

"Wait," Cora whispered, her eyes slowly moving over his body the same way he had done with her.

Robert felt undone by her steady appraisal of his naked self. When her eyes met his again, she was smiling. He smiled too. He decided he liked being undone by her.

He continued to stand there, waiting for her to approach him again, needing to feel her hands and her lips and her tongue once more. Cora finally took a few steps closer, putting her hands on his chest, playing with the soft hair there, her hand grazing against a nipple. "Oh God," he moaned, closing his eyes.

Cora's face lit up. "Well, well. I think this is going to be terrific fun," she whispered as she touched a fingertip to his nipple again, realizing that she enjoyed making him moan.

Robert didn't want her to stop. He threaded his fingers through her hair, and bent down to kiss her neck, delighted when her heard her gasp of pleasure, even as she continued to run her fingers over his chest, over his nipples, his groans muted against her throat.

When she brushed one of her hands over his arousal once more, the fingers of her other hand gently tweaking his nipple, he wasn't sure he could hold on much longer. He needed her. "Cora," he breathed against her neck, his voice soft but urgent.

"I know," she whispered. "Me too." And she meant it. She'd never felt such heat or need for him before.

Robert lifted her up, his hands under her buttocks, carrying her to the bed and laying her down upon it, climbing up next to her, then settling himself between her legs. He looked in her eyes and brushed her hair back from her face. "Cora?"

Nodding vigorously, Cora squirmed beneath him. "Please, Robert. Please, now."

Lifting her hips, Robert entered her slowly, watching her face, then began moving. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him, and he moved his hands up under her back, leaning down to kiss her mouth and then kissing down to her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue, both discovering how much she enjoyed it. Her fingers twisted themselves into his hair, until she was arching her back and panting, waves of incredible pleasure washing over her, her eyes wide with the feeling, crying out, never knowing it could be like this.

Listening to her cry out her pleasure, feeling her tighten around him in a way she'd never done, sent him reeling, and he groaned deeply against her neck where his head had come to rest, thrusting into her one last time before collapsing heavily against her.

For a little while, they lay there, collecting themselves, catching their breath, swimming in euphoria. Then Robert rolled off her, lying on his back. And Cora felt a stab of doubt. Would he just pick up his nightclothes and leave like always? She didn't want him to.

She felt him move again, climbing off the bed. So he was leaving. She felt empty. Sitting up, she pulled the bedclothes over her. He was putting his nightclothes on.

"Robert?"

She sounded somewhat fearful to him, and when he looked at her, he was sad to note that she'd covered herself up. "What's the matter Cora?"

"Are you really going?" Her voice trembled.

Robert almost chuckled, but he believed that might be a mistake. Instead he walked over and sat next to her on the bed. He picked up her hand and kissed it, giving her a soft smile. "No, sweetheart. I'm just going to get the bottle of champagne from my room." He watched relief wash over her face, her smile returning.

"Well," she said. "Don't be long, Robert." She kissed his cheek and watched him disappear, leaving the door open.

He had called her "sweetheart" – whether he realized it or not – and he was going to get champagne and come back. To her. Cora thought she might burst with happiness.

When Robert did return, he filled their glasses, and they drank and talked and laughed, and then they embarked upon their mutual discovery of one another's bodies all over again.