Hadn't planned on updating this story so quickly, but I had an urge to write what happens next, and I wouldn't be surprised if I update again this week (who knows, maybe even FINISH it this week!) *gasp* Yes, the end is quite close! Thanks again for everyone reading and reviewing! I appreciate the follows and the feedback!

'Til Death Do Us Part
June, 1921

"But Sybil is my friend! I want her to be at the wedding!"

And he wants to get drunk, but he's not going to have his way so why should she?

Imogen glares at and puts on that little pout of hers that no doubt she's been told all her life is "cute", but he just can't stand.

"If we invite her, then we'll be forced to invite…him," he manages to mutter.

Imogen doesn't seem to understand the problem. "Well of course, I mean he is her husband—"

"I don't want them there!" he practically roars, causing her to gasp and bring a hand to her chest. Had he raised his voice shortly after their engagement had been announced, he might have winced at her reaction. But now…he doesn't care. In fact, there's a part of him that secretly hopes she'll break it off.

But they're weeks away from their wedding, and despite that hopeful part of him, he's more or less resigned to his fate.

"Well…" Imogen manages to get over her shock, and puts on that pout again. "What…what about what I want?" she demands.

She learned that from Sybil, he finds himself thinking. A rebellious question, demanding to be taken seriously and looked upon as an "equal", even though she's his inferior.

He could round back and shout some more, tell her it doesn't matter what she wants, because he will be her husband, and he will always have the final say, so she might as well get used to it…

But he doesn't.

Instead, he appeals to the inner snob that he knows lies beneath the surface of her pretty face.

"Fine, if you want to welcome a scandal on our wedding day, then so be it."

Her brow furrows. "Scandal?" Oh she can't be that daft, surely? "OH! You mean because he was once the chauffeur?"

He resists rolling his eyes. Barely.

"Oh but that's ancient history—"

"It was barely two years ago!" He stares at her incredulously. "And only a year ago, did Sybil return, disgraced, and him…" He's practically spitting venom at this point. "I don't want some…terrorist…at our wedding. He might burn the church down with all of us in it!"

It's Imogen who rolls her eyes. "Oh please, you exaggerate."

Well, she's left him no choice.

"Do you really want all of our guests turning and looking at them…the ruined daughter of the Earl of Grantham and her Irish dog of a husband…instead of you?"

THAT did the trick.

Imogen bites her lip and looks down at her guest list, clearly struggling with what she thinks is right and what she now wants. Larry just smiles to himself; he knows he's won.

"…Well, I wouldn't want Sybil or Tom to feel uncomfortable with all those people staring at them."

Ah yes, let her think she's doing this as a "kindness" when he knows better; he knows she's capable of the deepest jealousy. If Imogen knew that imagines a different woman's face when he kisses her, she would fly into a rage unlike any the world has seen.

Perhaps they are suited for each other?