"Simon Bricker is waiting in the foyer m'Lord. Shall I send him in?"
Rookwood waved his hand in acquiescence and used his other hand to throw back the last two fingers of his brandy down his throat. The golden liquid had lost its burning sensation after the third glass, but he continued to drink out of boredom and anger.
"Well don't you just look peachy at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning!" Bricker's cheerful tones sent a ringing through his ears and irritated him to no end.
"Who says I went to bed? It's still Friday night to me."
Bricker collapsed into an armchair opposite Rookwood and snatched a crystal decanter of scotch, taking a large gulp not bothering with a glass.
"If you stain my crystal, I'll use your skin to wipe it clean."
"That's a lovely image but unfortunately, I've got bigger problems than your aesthetic use of language."
"And they are?" Rookwood asked but not really caring, instead he looked longingly at the bottom of his empty brandy glass.
"Someone's been going around London asking questions about me; about you."
"Now that is interesting," Rookwood inhaled through his nose and looked up in thought. "I saw Downton and his latest ride at the Gaiety last night. Let's just say that they didn't seem to want to participate in civil conversation."
"You think they know something?"
"I know they know something. But I don't know what or how. Grantham would never drag his son through the shit. His name is already stained but at least his son would be innocent if it all got out and therefore keeping his precious title and estate innocent by default. Robert isn't stupid though he would have figured it out sooner or later. We'll just have to be more careful from now on."
"I heard he got married while I was on my travels. His wife is supposed to be beautiful."
Rookwood snorted and shakily stretched his neck, "bitch needs to be put down."
It was a well know fact that Paul Rookwood became extremely violent when intoxicated, but no-one had ever seemed to mind this flaw because somehow, the liquor also sharpened his intellect in a bizarre sense of unfair irony. He seemed to re-think that statement and turned to Bricker with a dangerous gleam in his eye, "or at least a muzzle."
Bricker raised his eyebrow and resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, Paul was always so dramatic in a temper. "On the contrary; the American is rumored to have fit into aristocratic life swimmingly, and I do love beautiful things."
"Well, this thing has no sense of propriety or decorum!"
"And you do?"
"I never claimed that I did my dear Mr Bricker, but the absence off such qualities in a Lady are unbecoming."
"What did she say to you?"
Rookwood gritted his teeth so hard it looked painful for his jaw to be locked in such a position and spat out his answer, "she called me childish and ugly."
Bricker was silent for five seconds before collapsing in a fit of laughter. "You want to 'put her down' because she called you ugly!?" He asked after wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
"Shut up or get out of my house. We need to plan for the possibility of Downton finding out about what we're doing."
Simon Bricker straightened and poured a scotch for Rookwood, keeping the bottle for himself. "The answer to that question is easy."
"Yes?" Rookwood accepted the glass and looked at his partner with a weary gaze.
"Pin it all on Grantham."
A few streets over, the topic of their discussion was waking slowly between the sheets of his bed in a London townhouse. Robert Crawley stretched slowly and smiled at the feeling of silk fabric sliding over his naked skin, reminding him of the feather-light touch of his wife, he opened his eyes to see the pale expanse of her back next to him. She was also unashamedly naked.
His smile disappeared as he remembered the way that Rookwood had looked at her last night. Cora had been right in describing him as someone who viewed women as pieces of meat. The look in his eyes was dangerous and Robert was unprepared for the powerful surge of protectiveness and jealousy that sped through him as he remembered the night before, remembered what that street rat had called his perfect Countess; bitch. His feelings were all over the place lately, especially when it came to Cora and his feelings for her. But one thing was absolutely certain; she was his. No-one, not a grovelling rat nor an angry Lord was going to touch her.
He recalled the night when they first met at Lord Rookwood's ball:
"He didn't do anything forward, did he?"
"No, he just. No, he didn't"
The thought that Rookwood laid a finger on Cora or made her in any way uncomfortable, provoked violent thoughts in the young Lord's mind. Fury bubbled under Robert's skin and the urge to protect her, to claim her, became stronger. He leaned over and swept her long ebony hair on the pillow so that he could place harsh kisses on the back of her neck. She made no sign of waking yet so he climbed over her to lick and suck the delicate skin there, creating popping sounds every time he released a patch of her alabaster flesh.
They had all the time in the world and Robert planned on using that to his advantage, he was going to make her beg for him, he would leave his mark on her body that only he could see and erase all his thoughts of other men touching her. She was his.
He started to bite her skin lightly before sucking hard, leaving purple stains on an otherwise flawless canvas and eventually she started to stir beneath him. "Robert?" She gasped his name and he was pleased to recognise the heavy scent of her sweet essence as it clouded his senses and filled the air. He bent down to latch his teeth on her earlobe and growled, "who else would it be, Cora?"
He reached under them and grasped one of her soft breasts in his hands, smirking when she almost groaned under his ministrations. Well, she's definitely awake now, ol' boy.
He pulled and teased the supple flesh, making it tender and sensitive before mercilessly pinching her nipple into an unyielding peak; making her back arch away from his iron hold. The image of her white back bowed, with little red marks of his own doing scattered around her shoulders, stuck in his mind like a swan about to take flight.
He decided to torture her further by placing a hand in the middle of her shoulder blades and pushing her chest down into the plush mattress below, sliding back he placed his knees in between her legs and pushed them wide apart. The apex of her thighs was already glistening and moist but he ignored it and returned his attentions to her neck, always keeping her legs from closing together and preventing her from creating the friction she obviously wanted.
"Your mine, Miss Levinson. Say it." His voice held the undertones of a lion growling while his mouth did unspeakable things to her tender skin.
She had no choice but to comply, "I'm yours." Her voice was the opposite to his own and she envied him for his control; it wasn't Robert's deliberate low purr, but a weak gasp at the tail-end of an exhaled breath. He bit down slightly harder this time and spoke, "say it again. Like you mean it this time."
"I'm yours, completely yours." He chuckled against her skin while his hands wandered over her body languidly; producing shivers and a wanton desire for what would surely come.
"Better."
Cora groaned and pressed her hips into the mattress, desperate to fill the feeling of emptiness pulsing from her core, but her legs were too far apart to gain any friction and she nearly sobbed with frustration. She tried to bring her legs closer together, anything to stall the rapidly building arousal, but his knees were solid and strong in the face of her feeble attempts. "Please." She whispered.
"Please what?" He snapped the 't' sound with his teeth making it sound oddly erotic, but Cora's frustration grew tenfold when his fingers drifted down to lightly stroke the wet, black curls between her thighs. She moaned and tilted her hips, trying desperately to get him to apply at least some pressure to her now throbbing bundle of nerves, but again he only continued to lightly stroke and tease, barely even touching her. "Please, Robert."
He immediately pressed his entire body into her own, sliding his hands under Cora to hold her aching breasts and pulled her unto her knees. Her breathing increased when she felt the tip of his manhood resting against where she needed him the most. His chest was rough and masculine against her back but she would never forget his next words, spoken in that unique metallic rasp, as long as she lived.
"How can I be expected to give you something, when you can't even say it? You have to tell me, Cora." He used her first name this time and his tongue could always do awful things to those two syllables when he wanted it to. She would forever be, weak at the knees for his English accent. He gently rocked his hips against hers and whispered in her ear, "tell me what you want."
She whimpered loudly and pushed her hips back against his again, "I want you!"
Robert's eyes closed briefly and he kneeled back, grabbing his wife's hips and aligning their sex's. "Good enough."
With one thrust of his hips, they were finally joined together. The angle was new and created a lot of different sensations in them both as he sank deeper into her heat. Her velvet walls pulsed and clenched around his shaft. It was somehow tighter in this position and the tension was suffocating Robert in the most exquisite way. But to stop now was unthinkable and he rhythmically moved in and out. His grip slowly tightened on her hips every time he heard her gasps of pleasure, or when he hit that particularly sensitive spot that was so easy to reach from this angle.
Robert's movements were starting to become more frantic and sweat was gathering on his chest as his thighs began to ache sweetly. All he wanted to do was let go. The tell-tale sign of her walls fluttering couldn't come soon enough and her back arched again, so hard that it must have been painful, signalling her climax. He groaned in deep human satisfaction, their moans coming together in the late hours of the morning
His wife collapsed down on the bed and he soon followed, landing next to her in a heap.
"That was... unexpected." She was out of breath and her eyes were closed. Robert let his eyes wander over her skin that was now flushed red from their recent activities and dotted with love bites.
"I'm sorry, for waking you."
"Don't be. In fact, you have permission to wake me like that, anytime." Robert laughed loudly and she finally looked at him, "I'm serious."
"I know, that's what makes it funny." She smiled in response and stretched with a yawn.
"We should get up and dressed, I have a surprise for you." He moved to get up and retrieve his dressing gown but felt a tug on his arm, "Cora?"
"Five more minutes."
"No, I have a surprise for you. Come on. Get up."
"Just hold me for five more minutes. Please Robert?"
He sighed and went back to bed, holding her for a further fifteen minutes before they got up.
Robert took his wife's hand as he led her out of the servant's entrance downstairs and into the walled courtyard at the back of Grantham house. To the right were the stairs leading to front of the large townhouse and they were standing close to ward off the crisp October air.
"Why are we out here, Robert?"
"Well, my dear; last night I came to the conclusion that even though I would do almost anything for you, including dive headfirst into a bucket of cold water for apples, I would rather not get the flu. So, as a compromise I asked my valet to get me two very special items for my very special wife." Cora blushed as he stepped away from her, towards a small table in the corner of the courtyard with a blue sheet of plastic covering a large bump on it. As he grasped the edge of the plastic, his eyes met hers again before looking away briefly in a nervous fashion.
"I thought we could make our own traditions," he pulled the sheet and Cora gasped as she saw what lay underneath.
"Oh, Robert. This is... I don't know what to say. Are you sure?" She stepped closer to him and picked up the small carving knife, testing it's weight while he laughed, "of course I'm sure. Mama would have a heart attack if we did this at Downton, so I'm also sure that this is the safest option even though the servants will no doubt tell her anyway."
Cora laughed and dropped the knife next to large pumpkin on the table before spinning to wrap her hands around his neck. "No-one has ever done anything like this for me before." She bit her lip as his hands snaked around her waist, feeling his body heat through the multiple layers of clothing.
"I have never had anyone to do this for, before." He smiled at her and he was suddenly reminded of that night on the balcony so long ago, where her deep blue eyes had captivated him, just like they were doing now. The sky was a cold baby blue and it only served to make her eyes somehow brighter and more full of life. Her plump bottom lip was still stuck between her pearly teeth and he inhaled deeply; smelling the heavy earth of dead Autumn leaves and her jasmine scented soap. She released her lip with a soft pop causing his breath to hitch as he watched the area she had bitten fill with blood, making her lip seem a deeper red than normal. His eyes slowly traced back to her eyes and she shivered under the scrutiny of his gaze.
Robert moved his large hands to cup her face within the heat his palms, stroking his thumb languidly across her cheekbones, before whispering in a low metallic voice that would turn any sensible woman to mush.
"If I saw you, everyday, forever. I would remember you like this."
Cora barely finished her reply of "Oh, Robert," before his lips descended on hers lightly. He plucked and pulled, gently increasing the pressure and pace of his kisses until they were both gasping cold air in between every turn of the head. Her hands tightened on his broad shoulders as his tongue slid past her teeth, intertwining with her own, until he did something that he had never done before.
He backed away a hair's breadth before claiming her lower lip between his own teeth and biting it gently. He suckled and licked before the pain became too sharp, erasing any trace of his earlier assault. She tasted of everything that was right with the world and he was fixed with the deep-seated belief that kissing his wife's delectable lower lip was pure heaven. Who needed Olympus when he was inhaling nectar at this very moment?
He backed away panting slightly, "you have no idea how long I have wanted to do that."
She did nothing but blink in response and he nodded once before stepping away and grasping the knife in his right hand. "Shall I cut off the top first?"
She inhaled slowly before answering, wondering briefly at his irritating ability to put his mind on the task at hand and ignore all previous traces of arousal. "Yes, we'll have to clear out all the seeds and I hate the smell of pumpkin."
"Alright then, come here." She walked over to the orange pumpkin on the table and stood in front of him with her back to his chest. He placed her hand on the knife and then covered it with his own. "We'll do it together." His voice was just a whisper,, barely blocking out the wind. But it seemed like a scream to her sensitive ears and her hand would have shook with the feel of his strong body pressed against her own, if it wasn't for his hand keeping the blade steady. Once again she marveled at her husband's strength because pumpkin carving was honestly, the last hing thing on Cora's mind.
"Come on, we should let them get here. I have a surprise for you in the drawing-room anyway."
"Another one? Is there bad news and are you trying to soften the blow before it comes?"
He laughed and took her hand in his, leading her to the drawing-room, "no, I just like to see you smile and I like it even more I'm the reason for that smile."
"Who are you and what have done to my husband? Are you sure there's nothing wrong? You've been acting very strange lately."
"I think it's being away from my parents and.."
"And?"
They stopped outside the large door and he rubbed his forehead. A habit which she thought was adorable.
"Don't tell anyone because it's slightly strange but... this business with my father and Rookwood is leading to something big, I can feel it. All of this sneaking around and hiring 'men with skills' is, while horrible, a little exhilarating."
"Exhilarating?"
"Yes, I know it sounds strange but all of the secrets and men with agendas makes me feel alive. Makes me feel a rush I've never known before when I have a brush with danger. And at the end of the day, I know I have you to come home to. Which makes me a feel a different kind of rush altogether."
He opened the door for her and she walked into fire-lit red room ahead of him while shaking her head. But before she could respond, a deep voice pierced the darkness.
"How touching."
Robert shoved Cora behind him and whirled to face the darkest corner in the room where the vaguely familiar voice had come from. "Who's there?"
"Forgotten me already, Robert? Well, now I'm just insulted."
"Bates?!"
"The one and only. You really should update your security; it was remarkably easy to get in here."
Robert sighed and tried to still his beating heart, "Why on Earth are you even here?!"
Cora lightly touched his shoulder and stepped out from behind him, "Robert, you need to stop shouting or the servants will come in here. Bates, is it? Bates, why don't you sit down and we can all talk."
"This is your new wife? I like her, she's got spunk. Not afraid of taking control of a situation; always admirable in a woman. Call me John, dear." He strode out of the shadows and the firelight played with his features, causing beams of red light to flash in his almost-black eyes, and stuck out his hand in front of her. He was dressed in the same tanned trench coat, but had obviously washed it and his hat was dangling from his left hand that was also holding a silver box.
Robert watched as his wife shook hands with his 'slightly illegal' private investigator and walked slowly towards the couch. He waited until they were both seating and then took the armchair opposite Bates but next to Cora.
"Forgive me for not exchanging pleasantries but why are you here?"
"Well, I did as you asked and discovered what the breed of the eagle was." John looked pointedly at Robert but the young Lord's gaze was more vacant than ever.
"What eagle?"
"Oh for God's sake Robert. He's speaking in code! He probably thinks that you haven't filled me in yet."
John looked at Robert but pointed at Cora and said, "I really like her. Are you sure she shouldn't be the one that Rookwood is sending men to attack? Women with brains can be dangerous, you know?"
"Oh, yes. You saved him last night didn't you?"
"He didn't save me! I did not need saving!"
"Sure did, he kept his back turned from the attacker the whole time; nearly got knifed as well. It's lucky I was there to be honest."
"Thank you for saving my husband, John."
"He didn't - never mind. Don't make me repeat my question. Fill. Me. In."
John beamed at Cora and chuckled at how easy it was to get a raise out of the young Lord. "I found S.B he's an art historian named Simon Bricker and was in Africa until two weeks ago. I presume that was why he needed a room from your father. He's currently staying at a rented townhouse near Oxford Street and appears to be friendly with Lord Rookwood."
"You found out all that in one day? I only hired you last night!"
"Well, my dear Lord Downton, like you, Mr Bricker is seriously lacking in good security. Plus, I did most of the sleuthing after our little rendezvous last night and he went out this morning. It's remarkably easy to pick a lock, you know?"
"No, I don't know but I guess that's why I hired you. Wait, what is that, in your hand?"
"This, Robert, is a hat. Men wear it when it's sunny or raining or to complete on outfit, but it's just good manners to takes off ones hat in another man's house. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
"Ha ha very witty. I meant the box?" Robert growled.
"I found it on the table and it had chocolate in it."
"So you ATE it?!"
"Well, it was just lying there, so I thought why the hell not?"
"That box of chocolates was a present for my WIFE!"
"Oh, it's a good thing I didn't eat them then, isn't it?"
"What?"
John erupted in a fit of laughter and placed the unopened box of chocolates on the table. "You should have seen your face! Oh my God, that was priceless."
Cora was smiling indulgently but Robert had a feeling that something was wrong and hoisted Bates to his feet by the collar. He heard the maids clearing in the dining room so he dragged Bates through the servant's door out into the courtyard, ignoring Cora's calls. he shoved Bates against the wall and took a deep breath through his nose.
"Have you been drinking!?"
"Come now, Robert. It was only a sip!"
"I should have known you were inebriated as soon as you started to joke around."
"Have you ever thought that your face is just so funny when you're pissed off. Life's short Downton, it's good to have a laugh now and then."
Robert sighed and remembered the wedding ring he saw yesterday, "get cleaned up John. Go home to your wife."
"Ha! Now that is funny! Hey! What's that?"
"What's what?"
"The glowing orange thing with a face. Over there. You can see it too, right? I didn't have that much, only two pints!" John held up his hand to show five fingers and tried to wink but ended up blinking rapidly.
"That's called a pumpkin. Cora's from America and they celebrate Halloween a lot more traditionally than the English so I bought a pumpkin for us to carve. The house keeper must have put a candle in it." He smiled faintly as he looked at the ghastly orange face. Cora's hand wouldn't stop shaking for some reason.
"It's ugly-looking. I envy you, Downton. You got it all! Pretty wife, money, glowing orange thingys that you make with your pretty wife. You got a good ticket in the lottery of life my friend!"
"That's an odd phrase." Robert helped John up the steps and thought about ordering a taxi.
"My ol' man used to say it. He doesn't say much anymore though."
"Is he sick?"
"Naw, he's six feet under."
Robert was irked by the other man's blase attitude and responded hesitantly, "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Why? He was an asshole."
"On that happy note, you should get home."
"You're probably right. I'll stay on Brickwood and contact you if I find anything."
Robert ignored the wrong name and watched as Bates stumbled home, not leaving to enter the house until he was out of sight.
"Sit by the fire, Robert. You must be freezing."
"He was drunk. I knew something was wrong when he giggled, he was very serious when I first met him." Robert leaned towards the flames and thought about their pumpkin. Their new traditions. Bates was right, he did get a good ticket.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She said while rubbing his shoulders.
"Why is it that everyone is so surprised that I have a beautiful wife?"
She laughed and moved to sit in his lap, his arms instantly wrapped around her middle.
"I don't know and i don't care," her gaze turned serious, "we're leaving tomorrow."
"I know."
She nodded and leaned her forehead against his. It was then when he realised how tired they both were, he had no sleep last night and she was awoken rather abruptly in the morning. "Come, let's go to bed."
That was the first night Robert and Cora slept in the same bed with no questions or love-making. She smiled as he kissed her cheek good night and they slept soundly. Together.
"Hello Mama, Papa, my darling sister! It's good to be home!" Robert felt it was easier to lie to his family then to say that he wished he could be curled, naked and sated in bed until three in afternoon with his wife. But, no. He had to be here, back in his gilded cage, filled with rules and manners and his parents. God, help me.
"Robert, Cora! How was the show?"
"Excellent, everything from the sets to the costumes was fabulous!"
"I'm glad to hear it," Lord Grantham smiled weakly and grasped his son's hand, "there's tea in the library for you."
"How lovely, will you join us?"
Cora secretly hoped he would say no but didn't show disappointment when he agreed to have one cup. There was large purple circles under the old man's eyes and Cora felt a stab of pity for the Lord in front of her. Any man married to Lady Grantham deserved pity as far as she was concerned.
When they were all settled and had a cup of tea, Violet started to talk about her friends in London and how she was thinking of holding a Christmas ball.
"I don't know it might be nice, we could invite the servants and make a tradition of it. That sort of thing is coming into fashion, you know? They could enjoy themselves and have a good time, it would be like a Christmas treat for them."
Robert rolled his eyes as his Mother droned on and on about Lady-with-a-failed-marriage and Lord-needs-to-a-get-wife. Out of all of them Robert most enjoyed, Duchess-fainted-at-a-ball-because-the-paintings-were-flirting-with-her. I wonder what she was on... I wonder where I could get some. He smiled privately as he imagined having a 'special cigarette' with Cora. She'd probably say no... wouldn't she? Stop it, man! Get a grip! Think of something else. Okay, umm, oh look Cora's smiling at me. Hmmm, Cora. Images of a pale, arching back flashed in front of his eyes. Back up, back up, back up! Okay, umm, poetry, that's not arousing at all. I wandered lonely as a cloud. Ugh, I hate being lonely. Wait, I'm not lonely. I have Cora. Hmmm, Cora. Robert bit back a groan and forced himself to listen to the end of his mother's speech.
"...so I told Lord Rookwood that it wouldn't be any problem if he and his friend wanted to stay for a night."
Robert's head snapped up and Lord Grantham spilled his tea as he jerked in realisation. "What!?" They both shouted.
"I said, that Lord Rookwood sent me a letter saying that he was buying some art in Ripon tomorrow with his friend, Simon Bricker, who is an art historian and he wondered if they could stay for a night. I didn't see a problem as he was here for the wedding and everyone seemed to be very friendly then."
"Tell him, no! This is not a hotel and I will not have you renting out rooms in my house like a local pub!"
"Don't you dare shout at me, Patrick Crawley. I asked you last night if it was okay and you nodded! I distinctly remember you nodding at me like a moody little boy and I have already sent the letter. They'll be here tomorrow and you will be civil! The both of you!"
Robert masked his emotions at muttered something about unpacking as he walked out of the library, I have to tell Carson!
"What are we going to do? It's not like we can warn Mama, or even Rosamund. Honestly, Charles, you should have seen the way he looked at Cora, I don't think I could stand the two of them in a room together. God knows what this Mr Bricker is like, and they're obviously here for a reason, rather than just giving my father and I heart attacks!"
"Stop your whinging and think of a plan! Is there anyone we know, preferably male that could come here with a plausible explanation at such short notice who could help keep an eye on things? I could watch downstairs but I can't see everything, yourself and Lady Downton could choose one man each to keep an eye on all evening, but I think we'll need a fourth just in case."
Robert's brow furrowed in thought as he worried about dragging Cora even deeper into the whole mess, until Carson snapped his fingers. "Robert? What did you say that man's name was? The one that knocked out that homeless man?"
"Excuse me Mr Evans, can I have a word?"
"Of course, Charles, come in, close the door!"
"I was wondering about the small party tomorrow and if we'll need extra help now that George's leg is broken?"
"Yes, that was just our luck, wasn't it; the second footman falls down the stairs the day before two men are due to be staying at Downton." The butler's eyes lit up and he lent forward in his chair, "do you happen to know a possible replacement?"
"Yes, he lives in London and is also a trained valet." Carson said nothing about how George happened to fall. What Mr Evans doesn't know, can't hurt him. "His name is John Bates and he can be here by noon tomorrow if he catches the milk train."
"Excellent, tell him that I would be very glad of his help," Evans sighed and glanced down to a picture on his desk. It was a young girl in a very old photograph and the frame was a shining silver with intricate designs and expensive looking stones carved into it. It must have cost him an arm and a leg.
"That's a very beautiful frame, Sir."
Evans looked momentarily confused before smiling slightly, "a very beautiful frame for a very beautiful girl."
It couldn't be a daughter; Carson knew he was never married. "Your niece, Sir?"
"No, my sister, she died very young... But enough of that, send Mr Bates into me when he arrives tomorrow." Carson recognised his dismissal and felt instantly bad for prying into the old butler's private life.
"Of, course. Goodnight Sir."