The door opened just as John took out a cigarette.

"You can't smoke that in here," a boy spoke firmly from the doorway, dressed in dirty hang-me-downs. John nodded and put the fag in his pocket for later.

"Is Mr Evans there?"

"Who's askin'?"

"My name is John Bates, I'm here as a favour to Charles Carson."

"Oh, yeah, the stand-in footman. I'm Ben, one of the hall-boys. Have you ever served before?" Ben showed him into a large room with a table in the middle that had shoes on it. "Yes, I'm a trained valet."

"Well the liveries are in that cupboard and gloves are in the drawer. Charles is in the kitchen, will I fetch him for you?"

"Please."

John went hunting for a livery that fit him, but they all looked to be a tight fit over his large frame.

"You must be Bates." John's first thought was that this man had the deepest voice in human history. The second was that this man knew what he was doing. Carson was standing in the doorway effectively blocking any escape. While keeping his hands by his side to appear open and if necessary, block any attacks.

"And you must be Carson." The two men stood still, staring at each other warily. All John could hear was the other servants down the hall and his pounding head. Carson moved and extended his arm out to him.

As they were shaking hands, Carson leaned in, "I have a powder in my room if you want it."

"Really?" John's world suddenly seemed a little brighter at the prospect of getting some relief from his hangover. "I mean, thank you. How did you know?"

"Robert mentioned that you were intoxicated two nights ago when you went to see him. Someone who works, drinks and then breaks into his employer's home has a schedule. It usually ends up getting them killed. You went out last night too?"

"Yes, but I still don't see how you could have known that."

Carson pulled John's hand closer to his chest and looked right into his eyes. His nostrils flared and John got the horrible realisation that the man was smelling him.

"Your breath smells of toothpaste but your coat stinks of smoke and that brown stain looks a lot like vomit. Robert also mentioned that you washed your coat on Saturday, it's now Monday, so for it to smell that bad you would have had to been around a lot of smokers; let's say in a bar. Your eyes are bright but slightly bloodshot and the skin around them is stretched, like it's straining to keep your eyes open. The collar of your suit is also wet but it didn't rain this morning. It rained last night. Which means that you were out so late that you still haven't changed your clothes."

John breathed deeply and stepped back. He'd done that people he interviewed before, looked at a person and saw all the little details that told one everything that they did. But had never been on the other end himself. No-one had ever looked at him and seen so much. He had no idea what to do or what to say. The man was right after all, he was out all last night. He'd gotten in at four and only had time to puke and brush his teeth before going to the station to catch the milk train.

Sleep deprivation and a sore ego tempted him to change the subject quickly, "you call him 'Robert' too, eh?"

Carson narrowed his eyes like he knew what John was doing. "If you don't want to admit that I'm right, that's fine. But spare me the small talk. My room is the third door on the left, go up, wash your face, take one of my larger liveries and get some sleep. Rookwood and Bricker aren't coming until after luncheon so I'll brief you before dinner. The powder is in the first drawer, do not attempt to touch anything else. I will know."

Bates nodded and left quickly. It was only until he was lying on top of Carson's bed, when he realised that he never went to check in with the butler.

Robert knocked on Cora's door to escort her down to dinner and smiled when she greeted him with a kiss, "do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes, Robert we've been through the 'plan' before, I will be discretely watching Mr Bricker and making sure he doesn't leave any room, while you shall be watching Lord Rookwood and trying to contain your temper."

"You secretly love my tempers, don't deny it."

She kissed him again rubbed his chest slowly, "oh, I won't. Your being possessive definitely has its perks." She winked and walked away from him, out the door.

"You'll be the death of me one of these days, Cora."

"I certainly hope so. What do you think Mr Bricker will be like?"

"I don't entirely know to be honest, but he can't be a gentleman with rapier wit and manners if he's friends with the likes of Paul Rookwood."

"I never knew that was his first name. It's quite fitting, don't you think?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because of the apostle Paul... he hated women to."

Robert sighed and kissed her hand before entering the drawing-room, "it will be alright my dear, don't worry."

Mr Bricker was the first to enter the drawing-room out of the two men. The only indicator that Cora was aware of his presence was the slight pause in her conversation, but Rosamund didn't seem to notice and Robert nodded encouragingly at her. It wasn't long before Rookwood joined the party, followed by Lord Grantham who was the last to arrive.

"Dinner is served your Ladyship."

"Thank you, Evans."

Violet led the way to the dining room and waited until everyone had come in before sitting down. Cora spent the first half of dinner talking to Robert on her left but the second half was much more tedious with Mr Bricker as her company.

"Lady Grantham tells me that you're from America?"

"Yes, I used to live in Cincinnati."

"Oh, New York?"

"Yes, have you been to the city?"

"Once, years ago with my father. He was also a Historian and sometimes took me on his travels with him."

"Does your work take you away from England often?"

"It doesn't have to I can just as easily send a messenger for a price or photograph. But I like to see different cultures and traditions for myself. I like to look at beautiful things and if that happens to take me away from home then so be it. I was actually in South Africa recently, looking at the tribal designs of the Boers."

Cora looked up at him curiously, "isn't there a lot of conflict going on over there?"

He looked at her for the firs time since their conversation began and raised his eyebrow, as if he was surprised that a woman should know of these things. "Well, there's been conflict since the war in 1881 and it's still going on really. But our guys have a firm hand around them so don't worry, it's all just slightly chaotic at the moment which is why I had to leave."

"Did you at least get some nice designs?"

He looked at her with an indulgent smile that one would give a toddler and nodded, "I found what I was looking for."

Cora was saved by Lady Grantham announcing the split and saw Robert winking at her before she left. She hoped he would be able to contain his temper, just in case.

"Cigar, anyone?" Patrick Crawley signaled for Evan's to fetch four cigars and turned to look at the men in front of him, his gaze lingered slightly on Rookwood.

"Not me, thank you, I never got used to the taste." Bricker told Evans as he went to hand out the cigars.

"So, tell me what brings you to Downton." Robert asked Lord Rookwood as innocently as possible and tried not to show amusement as the other man's jaw clenched. Mr Bricker also noticed his friend's agitation and stepped in to answer, "we were in Ripon, meeting an art collector and Paul here mentioned something about your vast collection," he turned to look at Patrick and said, "I would love to see it, by the way. If it's no trouble?"

"Well, I believe Robert took Cora on something like a tour of our paintings because she is very interested in the subject. I'm sure the two of them would be happy to take you after this."

"Ah, yes. I heard you were recently married, Lord Downton. You have my congratulations."

"Thank you." Robert's eyes flicked to Rookwood who was making it blatantly obvious that he was staring at Lord Grantham and Robert wondered what he had said to Bricker about his marriage to Cora. The older man's brown eyes flicked to Robert's and narrowed with a calculating look. Robert blocked out all other conversation and focused on intimidating Rookwood.

"Well, I could always let you finish your drink and ask Lady Downton to bring me now."

"That would be fine, I'm sure Robert would appreciate it, wouldn't you son?"

"Yes, yes, that's fine." Robert was so caught up in trying to gain the upper hand on Rookwood that he didn't even notice Bricker leaving the room.

"Dinner is in five minutes! Where were you?!" Carson's voice boomed at Bates.

"I'm sorry. I slept in! But I woke up and got down here as fast as I could."

"I had to tell Mr Evans you weren't coming but never mind that now. I'll carry the meat and you bring the sauce."

"What are we looking out for?" Bates followed Carson up the stairs balancing the silver platter in his hands.

"Anything out of the ordinary. Watch Bricker and Rookwood carefully; their hands and eyes. Make sure they don't drop anything and so on."

"Do you know why they're here?"

"Not a clue, Robert is stressing over it as well. There has to be a reason because they wouldn't just turn up for nothing."

"I know they met each other on Saturday but other than that I know nothing."

"Yes, well, we're entering the dining room now, keep your wits about you."

Bates impression of Downton Abbey was that it was a very well-oiled machine, everyone had a job to do and they did it well. It seemed like a nice place to work, no hiding in hedges or pretending to be a homeless person. It was also a lot warmer than his own house. But then again, any house with a smile was warmer than his shack.

John sighed and put the tray down in the servant's hall. Vera had been especially unkind this weekend, his temple still stung from where she threw the glass at him.

Where was he supposed to go when he wasn't wanted at home? The pub. Where was he supposed to go after the pub? Work. After work? Home. Ah, life is a vicious cycle, designed to chew you up and spit you out. John felt like he was watching his life from the outside, seeing himself go through the same never-ending routine. With both Vera and a good drink. Sure, he tried to quit the bottle years ago, but no money in the bank and a bitch at home sends a man to do crazy things.

A noise from behind him sent John into red alert and all thoughts of Vera and drink went out the window. He turned and peered up the stairs. Nothing. The kitchen then.

On his way out he saw a man dressed like a valet, leaning against Mr Evans door with a cigarette and thought quickly. He remembered his conversation with Ben. You can't smoke that in here. This man wasn't employed by the house.

John walked by slowly and fished in his pockets for the fag he saved earlier, "damn, got a light on you? I left mine upstairs, in my room." John acted normally but his suspicions were confirmed when the man didn't say anything about John only being here for a day and not having a room.

"Sure, here y'are." He passed a small box of matches to John and stepped away from the door, "say, is the family still havin' dinner?"

"No, they decided not to split and are all in the drawing-room now." John lied, lighting his cigarette before sticking out his hand. "Steven Rath."

"Alex Smith." The other man smiled politely and took back his matches, "I best get on then."

John took a few drags of his cigarette and waited until Mr Smith was out of sight before calmly following him. Smith took the servant's stairs up to the gallery on the second floor and pivoted in time to see John following him. Shit. John slipped a small knife from his left sleeve and tensed his muscles in preparation for a fight.

"You're not really a footman here, are you?" Smith asked when he saw the blade.

"No." John switched the knife to his right hand.

"That's fine," Smith smiled dangerously, "I'm not a valet."

Robert walked into the drawing-room with a smile ready for his wife but didn't see her as he looked around the room.

"Rosamund, where is Cora?"

"Mr Bricker came to get her earlier and they went to look at some art together."

"What?" Rosamund seemed surprised at the amount of venom in his voice and looked at him with a puzzled expression, "didn't you know?"

"No, I didn't. Do you have any idea where they're gone?"

"I think Cora muttered something about the Renaissance era, in the East Wing. You should probably go after them, Robert she was reluctant to go with him but he told her that you said it was okay so she went. If he lied about you knowing then it can't be good."

"Oh, I have every intention of going after them." He made sure his Mama was keeping Rookwood occupied and calmly walked out of the room, nodding to Evans as he passed. But as soon as the door closed, he ran as fast as possible to the stairs that led to the East wing of the castle.

As he approached the third hallway on the second floor, he heard voices and started to calm down, taking deep breaths and slowing his pace.

That is, until he heard a man scream, "fine! I'll tell you!"

Cora.

Robert rushed down the corridor, his heart thumping wildly against his chest and nearly slipped when he turned sharply around the corner. Visions of Bricker letting Cora think she had the upper hand before producing a weapon or something just as ghastly rushed through his mind. But his legs came to an abrupt halt when all he saw was Bates pushing a knife into a young lad's throat. Christ he's not still drunk, is he?

"Bates?"

"Hello, Robert. Come to join the party?"

The young man didn't turn his head to look at the Viscount for fear of pressing the knife further, there was already a single drop of ruby-red blood escaping through his fragile skin. Robert looked at Bates and noticed his left eye was red and swollen. They had a fight.

"What's going on here?"

"Oh, thank God. M'Lord, this man attacked me with a weapon out of no-where! Get him off me!" Alex tried to look as innocent as possible but it wasn't working.

"Nice try, little boy but he's on my side. In fact, he's the one who hired me."

John smiled, "now, I believe you were going to tell me something."

Robert watched with morbid fascination as John removed the knife from the man's throat and used it to trace the line of his cheekbones. The sharp tip was frighteningly close to the young man's eyes. "Fine! Just put the knife away!"

John leaned in closer and continued to stroke his face with the blade, soft like a lover's caress. "Not a chance. Now talk."

"Rookwood approached me about three months ago, asked if I'd like a job. But the job wasn't very legal so I told him I wanted out. But he got my sister, man! What was I supposed to do? He said he'd let her go if I didn't tell anyone. I just needed to do one more job. This job!"

"And what, exactly, did this job entail?"

"He said I had t-"

He was interrupted by a woman shouting, "-what was that about?" A blood curdling scream rang through the upstairs gallery and Robert's face paled. John looked up and let Alex go. "Robert?"

The young Lord's hands started to shake and he looked at John with fear, "Cora's with Bricker in the East wing."

"Shit." He grabbed Robert's arm and pulled him towards the scream, "I don't know where I'm going Robert, you have to snap out of it! Come on, man!"

Neither one noticed when Alex Smith slipped back into the servant's stairwell and escaped further interrogation.

Carson poured another scotch and carried it to Lord Rookwood. He was still talking to Lady Grantham about Christmas balls and pointedly ignored Patrick Crawley's gaze.

"Here you are m'Lord. Can I get you anything your Ladyship?"

"A brandy please, Charles."

Carson turned back to the drinks to fetch a brandy glass but nearly dropped it when he turned around again, only to see that Rookwood and Robert were not in the room. Carson began to relax but his stomach refused to settle. He had a bad feeling. Thinking back, he couldn't remember seeing Lady Downton or Bricker upon entering the drawing-room but he couldn't be definite.

"Thank you, Charles."

"Of course, m'Lady."

Carson bowed and stepped back. Everyone had a drink. Evans was talking to Lord Grantham about something to do with the kitchen staff. Maybe he could escape without anyone seeing? He stood up straight and walked out of the door with purpose, passing Lord Grantham and Evans on his way. His theory was: if one looks confident, one won't be asked questions. Confidence.

"... I just don't see why they need to be up so late m'Lord. I would prefer to have everything locked and turned off when I retire but I can't when there are maids and a cook still bustling about at midnight."

"Really, Evans, what do you want me to..."

Patrick Crawley's voice trailed off as Carson closed the door and looked around the foyer. No-one saw him, now all he needed was a location on Rookwood. Carson doubted the Lord went upstairs because anyone with a brain wold search upstairs when everyone else was sleeping. No, Carson decided, he must be downstairs. His gut was still rolling and the bad feeling wasn't going away. He needed to find Rookwood. Carson stepped towards the library with a firm nod.

At first he thought there was nobody there but then a shadow moved and Carson moulded his body into the wall. Rookwood was there, leaning over Lord Grantham's desk and reaching into his pocket. Charles watched as he retrieved a black velvet bag from his pocket and was about to place it on the table when his shoulders tensed. Carson's foot had creaked a floorboard.

Carson realised that the Lord knew he was there and surprise went out the window, so he stepped forward purposefully making noise. Rookwood straightened and turned slowly with a stony look on his face. "Well well well, isn't this a surprise, Downton's pet has come to bark. He warned me about you y'know, said the two of ye had a strange relationship, didn't follow the normal rules. He said you wouldn't go down without a fight." Rookwood smiled and stepped forward, "I love a good fight."

Carson never waited for him to finish the sentence before he stepped forward with a jumping front kick, catching Rookwood in the chest and knocking him into the hard oak desk. The velvet bag dropped from his hands, landing next to the table's right leg.

Rookwood snarled and lunged at Carson but the footman was ready. He dodged the right jab and caught Rookwood's jaw with a left hook. "I thought you said you enjoyed a fight! Because, I must be honest here, you aren't putting up a very good one." Carson smiled and Rookwood rubbed his jaw, looking Carson up and down.

"I underestimated you. It won't happen again."

In all of Carson's life, whether it was backstage learning Tae-kwon-do from Master Yung Hui or being a footman, never in all his life, had he seen a man move as fast as Rookwood did in the next five seconds.

The Lord side-stepped to his right and turning kicked Carson in the side of his head. The footman immediately saw stars and crumpled to the floor. Before he had time to feel any pain, Rookwood was sitting on his chest. Charles was seeing black spots in his eyes and it was hard to focus on the older man's face but he recognised the weight on his chest and the hand around his throat as another person. It took longer for him to realise that Rookwood was talking to him.

"See, you're not the only one with fancy kicks."

Kicks? Carson's brain couldn't catch up but all he knew was that he needed to get the weight off his chest. He struggled but it wouldn't budge, if anything it pushed harder. He felt large hands clamp around his throat, strong thumbs pressing into his windpipe and making him gag. It dawned on him that he was going to die and no-one was going to help. How could he scream for help when he had no air?

"Are you sure Robert didn't say to wait for him?"

"Quite sure. He said to have fun. Lord Grantham told me you have an interest in art, is this true?"

"Yes, I like paintings. This staircase leads to the East of the castle, there's a lot of Renaissance era works there."

"Do you prefer Da Vinci or Michelangelo?"

"Is that a trick question? One can't simply choose between the greatest minds in history or do something so petty as to 'pick a favourite'."

"I'm impressed, brains and beauty, Lord Downton really did get the whole package."

Cora bit her tongue in an effort not to curse at the man before her and quickened her pace. She could see the door that Robert showed her on their first day of marriage now.

"Do you feel the same?"

"What?" Cora's annoyance was slipping through but Bricker didn't seem to get the hint. Bricker's steps slowed down and eventually stopped. She turned to look at him and couldn't mask the irritation on her face but it only seemed to amuse him.

"I said, 'do you feel the same?' As in, do you think that Lord Downton is the whole package? In other words, did you get what you paid for?"

Cora reached up and slapped Bricker across the face, "how dare you!" She shouted. "You have absolutely no right to question me or my marri- Ah!" She couldn't stop a scream from escaping her when he grasped her by the shoulders and threw her against the wall.

"Mr Bricker let me go!" She shouted and struggled in his grasp but he remained silent. Fear ran through her veins like ice as he looked in her eyes and held her firm against the wall. The silence reigned on but Cora was sure that he could hear her heart beating in her chest.

His knee moved in between her legs and she was struck by the startling realisation that she was alone. No-one was coming to help her and this man was about to do something that no-one but Robert had ever done before. Tears began to pool in her eyes as hot lust poured out of his. But Levinson's don't cry. If Cora wanted to get out of this situation then she'd have to help herself. She wasn't strong enough to push him, he had a hold of her hands and her legs were trapped in between his own. Words whispered by her father when she was only a little girl came back to her slowly.

Don't ever forget, Pumpkin; you are as strong as any other man but you have to remember to use your head.

Cora took a deep breath and pulled her head back as far as it would go. She closed her eyes and pretended push him away by grabbing his shoulders. The last thing she saw was his toothy grin before she slammed her forehead into his nose, letting out a scream as she did so.

"What the fu-" she pushed him away from her body trying to ignore the pain that flared throughout her head.

"Stay away from me!" She never waited for him to reply and sped towards the opposite end of the corridor. Tears threatened to spill over but she wouldn't let them, she wasn't safe yet. She heard loud footsteps and shouting thundering towards her back but she ploughed on, not even listening to her attacker's words. Strong arms suddenly grabbed her from behind and she lashed her feet out, "let me go!"

"Cora! Ssh, it's me!"

"Robert?" She spun around in his arms to face him and smiled in relief, "Robert!" Her arms latched themselves around his neck and he lifted her into the air, spinning her around. The pain in her head made itself known and she groaned into his shoulder, "can you put me down now?"

Her husband let her feet fall to the floor but didn't let her go completely. He cradled her face within his palms and gazed into her eyes. "Where is he, Cora?"

The memories of Bricker and his silent gaze rushed to the forefront of her mind, "he's down there by the Renaissance room."

"Don't worry Robert, I got this. Get her safe and check her head then go get Carson he'll want to know everything." Bates ran down the hall where Cora had pointed his steps light for such a big man.

"Is your head alright? Did he hit you?"

"No, I hit him. He had my hands you see so I hit my head but it hurts."

Robert smiled and kissed the mark that was already bruising in the middle of her forehead. "Oh, darling. I'm so proud of you, how hard did you hit him? Come on let's get you lying down."

She stepped forehead tentatively but the world span and her vision blurred. She was suddenly off the ground and cradled within her husband's chest as he carried her to their bedroom. Cora's mind was pulling her further into a black lake of unconsciousness. Where the waters soothed and blocked out images of silent men with wild eyes. She gladly waded in and immersed herself in it's depths, vaguely registering Robert's whispered apologies and hushed sentiments.

"Oh, Cora. Please forgive me. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I didn't help you."

Robert knew Downton intimately and maneuvered down the halls with his face buried in his wife's jasmine scented hair. He opened the door to their bedroom and placed her sleeping form on the bed. The thought of her being scared and alone with scum like Bricker evoked strange and powerful emotions in him. Tears fell onto her porcelain face as he leaned over her and repeated the words; 'I'm sorry,' over and over. The young Lord let his feelings pour out freely from his eyes. After all, he wasn't a Levinson.

He needed to do something. Anything! But what could he do? Kick!

Carson clasped his own hands over Rookwood's, trapping him to his chest and brought his right knee up, forcefully meeting the middle vertebrae on Rookwood's spine. He ignored the pounding in his head and focused on putting as much power as possible into kneeing the Lord's back.

"Agh!"

The other man screamed but Carson wouldn't let go, he kept driving his boulder-like knee into Rookwood's back. On the third time, the grip around his throat was relaxing and Carson stretched his leg further to hook his right heel around Rookwood's neck, bringing him crashing to the floor. Carson sat up and saw the Lord's face between his ankles, reflexes told the footman to stop thinking and just do. So he did. He punched Rookwood in the nose twice before scrambling back to get up. He leaned on the edge of the plush red sofa gasping for air and trying desperately to un-cloud his vision. That was when Robert ran in.

"Carson! Are you alright?"

Carson tried to nod but the movement made Fireworks explode in front of his eyes. The scene before him was slowly slipping away and black was clouding his vision like an oncoming storm. He knew he was going to faint and grasped the couch harder, willing himself to take slow deep breaths in before exhaling. A loud moan coming from the direction of Rookwood distracted Robert but the footman stayed where he was, trying desperately not to pass out.

Rookwood sat up and held his broken nose in a handkerchief, it was then when he noticed Lord Downton glaring at him with red rimmed eyes. The servant was struggling against one of the sofas and Paul had to restrain a smile at the sight.

"What happened?" Downton spoke through gritted teeth clearly upset that his night was ruined. Rookwood briefly wondered what Bricker did or was doing to Lady Downton at this minute. Maybe that's why poor little Robert's eyes were red. This time he couldn't contain his grin.

"You think this is funny!?" Robert bent at the waist and dragged Rookwood up from the floor with his hands on the other man's collar. "You think that you can come into my house for God knows what reason and mess with MY family!? Think again you prick." Robert's fist struck home against Rookwood's jaw and he went slack, falling out of Robert's arms in a heap on the floor next to the desk.

"Robert." Carson's voice was creaky and breathless, that of an elderly person rather than the fighting machine Robert knew so well. The young Lord was next to his friend in four long strides.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. But, what about Lady Downton?"

Robert's smile was grim, "she'll live."

"Can the same be said for Mr Bricker?"

"I don't know, John went after him. I came to find you."

"Rookwood?"

"Don't worry he's-" Robert stopped talking when he noticed the empty space next to the desk. Rookwood was gone.

"Son of a bitch! He's not here, I thought I knocked him out."

"Obviously not."

"Yes, I can see that, thank you," he walked over to the decanter by the wall and poured out a glass of water, "here, drink this."

Carson took a long drink before speaking again, the red marks around his throat were becoming more pronounced and Robert had to suppress another flame of anger.

"Did you find his pouch?"

"What?"

"He was by the desk holding a small velvet pouch when I walked in, it fell by the right leg of the desk. Did you get it?"

Robert bent down and looked around the desk. "It's not there, he must have taken it with him. Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, I'm not alright. Rookwood kept saying, "he told me" I think he has a man spying on you. He knew who I was and that we were close."

"Spying on me? You mean a P.I, like John?"

"Maybe, I don't know. How did you know I was in here?"

"I didn't. Cora fell asleep so I came down to get a drink before looking for you. My father might come in any minute actually, you should go downstairs and get some rest. I'll brief you tomorrow."

Carson nodded once slowly before leaving the library, passing John on his way out. "Robert! They got away, that Smith had a car waiting for all of them, we didn't stand a chance. Is Carson okay?"

"No, but he will be." Robert walked away from Bates and climbed the stairs to his dressing room. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight.

"Step on it, Smith."

"I don't know how to work these things, there's too much buttons."

"Damn foreign contraptions. Why did I let you persuade me to buy a car?" Rookwood shouted at Bricker as he reached forward and helped Alex pull the gear stick. it slid back like butter under Rookwood's brute strength.

"I thought that German was a very nice man. What was his name again? Karl Benz, Bons?" Simon's head was tilted back against the seat and he was holding his nose.

"Who cares what his damn name was? Did you get it?"

"No, it wasn't just Downton and that servant. There was another man there."

"Hmm, Alex I thought you were supposed to be keeping Carson busy while I had Downton to deal with?"

"I did Sir, but he pulled a knife on me and said he wasn't a footman. He's crazy but I did my best and didn't give anything away!"

"You idiot!" Rookwood back-handed Alex across the face from behind his seat. "That wasn't Carson. Carson was downstairs kicking me in the chest."

"Oh, so that's why you look like you're after a pub fight. I was wondering about that."

"Shut up Simon, a girl broke your nose."

Bricker sighed and fished in his pocket for a handkerchief. "She never called me ugly."

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing. Did you plant it?"

Paul snorted and took out a black velvet bag, "only one. But at least I did my job. How did you get on Alex?"

"He said to tell you that you need to go the Rhode's ball this weekend. He said it's vital and he'll know if you miss it." The young boy's voice shook and his hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles.

"Who?"

"No-one you need to bother yourself with, Simon."

Bricker's eyes narrowed and he looked at Rookwood. "Who are the Rhode's?"

Paul smiled widely and rubbed his hands together, "our new business partners."