Matthew dragged his feet behind him as he approached Mary's house. He doubted she'd let him in. To be honest, he'd probably judge her if she did.

Just when he thought his life had reached the peak of surrealism when he and Mary were thrust together to pursue a fake romance, the last 24 hours hit him. His stupid night of passion - if you could call it that - had cost him much more than he'd bargained for. It wasn't fair, he thought to himself petulantly. How many men out there sleep around with countless women and never face any repercussions? Yet, here he was, one drunken fumble and the entire country hated him within hours. Well, not the entire country. The sceptics, who had disbelieved the romance between him and Mary all along, were quite glad to find more evidence to back their arguments. At least he had their support, Matthew thought glumly.

Nigel and co had done an impressive job of stemming the potential sources of incriminating information - namely, Matthew's neighbour (to whom Matthew would no longer be lending milk) and Alice. The media therefore didn't have anything further to talk about or speculate on beyond the photograph and the short account from the neighbour. To everyone's surprise, it had transpired that there actually was a 24-hour massage company operating in Matthew's area. It sounded like a euphemism for something a lot saucier, but the PR machines cited this fact and managed to explain away the groans and sighs that the neighbour had heard through the adjoining wall as being Matthew's pain at having his injured back kneaded by a professional masseuse - it also explained why Matthew appeared to be topless in the photo. The small massage parlour was so pleased to be mentioned in the national press that they didn't bother to point out that no blonde woman worked there. The spin doctors even got a physiotherapist who had treated Matthew for a torn ligament in his back a year earlier to give a statement about it, carefully omitting that the injury had been sustained from trying to lift a heavy box when he was moving flat rather than from playing rugby.

To Matthew's embarrassment, his own father - the Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom - was asked about the incident in a press conference. Already armed with a prepared response, Reginald had calmly explained that his son had most certainly not cheated on Lady Mary Crawley and that he was a caring, sensible man who would never do such a thing. It was a clever reply, in that it directly addressed the question without technically lying. Matthew hadn't cheated on Mary, although he had come to realise that he had betrayed her trust to an extent. Thankfully, Reginald was so well-respected and amiable that his word settled the matter in the minds of a large proportion of the public. Still, many people preferred to gossip and speculate on what Matthew may have been up to.

Throwing everything that he could at this cover-up, Nigel instructed Matthew to walk around London with a crutch for a little while. He'd tried to make Mary accompany him, to portray herself as the concerned girlfriend who was in no way spurned, but Mary had outrightly refused. Or so Matthew was told. He hadn't actually spoken to her since she'd called him a bastard and walked out of her own house.

Reaching the back door that he always entered through, Matthew sighed deeply. Things could have been worse, he mused. Thankfully, Alice had kissed him very discreetly, out of anyone's sight in the back corner of the club. It would have been impossible to explain away a sighting or photograph of them being physically together, irrespective of how creative the PR machines were.

There was one other issue that was troubling him, though. This one was more difficult to think about than the others, and so Matthew insisted on pushing it to the back of his mind...

...

Closing the magazine that she was reading and tossing it to the side, Mary let out a breath of frustration. She felt shit.

The most annoying thing about feeling shit, other than the feeling itself, was that the cause of it was something that shouldn't bother her this much, if at all. Initially, she'd been at a loss as to why the revelation about Matthew had thrown her into such a bad mood, but now she was beginning to form some ideas.

Despite it having been only a fortnight since they met, by yesterday morning she'd been fairly sure that she knew what sort of person he was. After all, he was a middle-class accountant and came across as eminently sensible and, in her initial opinion at least, rather vanilla. Upon closer inspection and spending more time together, she'd discovered that he did actually have some depth to him. He had more of a backbone than she'd anticipated and was very clever. His social skills were actually better than she would've thought, too. While he disliked the excessive media attention they were getting to the point that it rendered him uncomfortable, and while he told stupid jokes and was known to become flustered quite easily, he was able to engage people and keep their attention. He'd kept a swathe of women hanging on his every word at the garden party, hadn't he?

Still, Mary had been sure that his relatively unassuming nature signified a reservedness that she also possessed. It was odd, she supposed, that she should presume this given the fact that they had both brazenly kissed and touched each other several times over the past few days, but she had never behaved like that in her life and had believed the same to be true of Matthew. They had both been thrown into a bizarre set of circumstances and this had affected their conduct, she'd supposed.

Aside from the fact that he'd seemed as if he was genuinely interested in her but then dashed that idea by sleeping with someone else, thereby hurting Mary's pride, Mary was upset for a larger reason. All her life, she'd felt different to her peers. She didn't engage in casual sex and didn't even really kiss people unless she truly had feelings for them. These values were rare in her social circle and the media often speculated about her 'suspicious' lack of action, choosing to fill in the void with their own pairings and stories of late night hook-ups (indeed, Nigel had cited these enraging tabloid stories as one reason for Mary to partake in operation Brangelina, and she'd hoped that the appearance of a boyfriend would shut them up). Within her immediate social circle, by contrast, a reputation had developed that she was frigid and uptight, which hadn't exactly encouraged men to approach her, which in turn perpetuated the problem.

What it came down to was that she thought she'd finally found someone - a man her age, good-looking and with an actual personality - who mirrored her careful approach to romance. It wasn't as if she had been planning on starting a proper relationship with Matthew. That wasn't possible, as she'd been reminding herself on an increasingly regular basis, for some reason... Besides, he got under her skin like nobody else. However, meeting him had made her more optimistic about finding a man who didn't just want to get into her pants and who was put off by the fact that she wasn't willing to let him in there very easily. With the discovery of Matthew's illicit rendezvous, those hopes had crumbled. Perhaps all men were only after one thing. Perhaps that was why Matthew had been so keen on kissing her, and why he had abandoned the thought of her for another woman as soon as she'd put a stop to his attentions on the dancefloor. Perhaps the only man she'd ever find with enough patience for her reservedness would be an unattractive slob with no sense of humour whatsoever.

With that cheery glimpse into her future, Mary got up to fetch herself a soothing cup of tea from the kitchen, noticing glumly that it had begun to drizzle outside.

She wasn't supposed to be living in this old house - it's main function now was to serve as a meeting place for her and Matthew, and the PR teams. Today, though, she wanted to hide. Downing Street was always under scrutiny and she couldn't escape the feeling that she was being watched or monitored in some way, even if she was in one of the back rooms. This house, where she'd grown up, was far more comfortable.

As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed a movement outside the door to the garden, which had glass panelling covered with a thin curtain. For God's sake, was there a photographer stationed outside here now too? Someone must have discovered the secret meeting place. Having started off the day in a bad enough mood, Mary's blood began to boil. She'd been told to always be courteous to the media, but they had crossed her on the wrong day. She stomped over to the door and swung it open, a look of fury on her face.

Her expression temporarily morphed into one of shock as she beheld a thoroughly sheepish Matthew in front of her, before quickly regaining its previous look of anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She bit out. She probably should have just shut the door in his face, but she was curious as to why he had the audacity to show up at her house after what he'd done.

"I, um..." Matthew stammered. Part of him had hoped that she might have cooled down since yesterday, but her eyes told him that she may actually be even more furious. The reason he'd hesitated outside without knocking on the door was because he hadn't quite decided exactly what to say to her. Now, he was going to have to think of something quickly before she locked him out, otherwise he'd lose his chance. "I wanted to apologise." He said sincerely, albeit a little nervously. With the look Mary was giving him right now, he was afraid of being cast into stone by looking directly at her.

Mary looked at him expectantly, but he didn't continue.

Matthew's eyes darted from side to side - he was unsure what to do. Her countenance was unreadable. She was blocking the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Could I come in? Please?" The rain had grown heavier over the last minute and droplets were falling from his hair onto his face.

"I don't see why you can't apologise out here." Mary gestured to the garden. She didn't particularly want him to come inside. It was difficult to know how easily she'd be able to get rid of him once she let him inside the house.

"Oh, erm, OK..." Matthew tried to ignore the cold rain that was trickling down his neck. "I just wanted to say-" Thunder roared directly above the house, making both Matthew and Mary jump. "Erm," Matthew tried to compose himself and continue, but the rain was now beating down so hard that he could barely be heard.

"Just come in." Mary relented, walking back into the kitchen. Matthew paused for a moment to see whether she'd change her mind, and followed her.

He removed his muddy shoes by the door. He considered taking off his sodden hoodie, as he was wearing a T-shirt underneath, but thought better of it. He didn't want to seem too much like he was making himself at home when she clearly didn't want him there. He took out his mobile phone and placed it on the wooden table in the kitchen, to avoid it getting wet from the moisture in his clothes.

"So what did you want to say?" Mary crossed her arms guardedly.

"I wanted to apologise." Matthew sighed. He had compiled quite a list of things to apologise for. "First, for...you know." He found it difficult to mention explicitly without blushing or cringing profusely. "Sleeping with her." He said quietly. "I didn't think. It was probably the least thought-out thing I've ever done. I was in a weird head-space and all I was focused on was having a bit of fun. It was incredibly selfish of me." Matthew deliberately omitted the effect that Mary had had on him, which had induced him into that weird head-space. "I know I put your father's, as well as my own father's, reputation at risk. It's a miracle that Nigel and the others managed to turn it around so that people actually feel sorry for my back problem. I actually got a letter this morning from a man in Birmingham who said he had a similar injury to me." Matthew digressed, but quickly went back on track once he noticed Mary's unimpressed expression. "Anyway - I want you to know that, if the PR guys hadn't been able to think of a cover story, I would have confessed to being a cheater and taken all the blame for it."

Mary frowned. "That wouldn't have helped the Coalition at all."

"No, probably not. But at least it wouldn't have exposed our relationship as a sham, which would damage the government even more." Mary didn't respond to this. She wasn't going to commend him on being noble and sacrificing his reputation when he was the one in the wrong and he was talking about a hypothetical situation. "The second thing I wanted to apologise for was what I said to you yesterday morning - about your love life." Matthew cringed again at the memory of how rude he'd been. "It was out of order and it wasn't my place at all to make judgments about your personal life."

"I presume you received that little nugget of information from Edith?" Mary asked sarcastically, remembering that he had been sat next to Edith at dinner. It was so like Edith to disparage Mary at any given opportunity, particularly to an eligible man.

"Erm, yeah." Matthew replied uneasily, not wishing to involve himself in family politics. There were enough politics to deal with as it was. "But I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was a cheap shot." Not that it was any real excuse, but he'd been sleep-deprived and stressed during their altercation and it had slipped out of his mouth.

Mary nodded almost imperceptibly, just enough to show that she acknowledged his apology.

"Lastly, I want to apologise for kissing you on the dancefloor." Mary tensed automatically at this, but kept her face neutral. Why was he apologising for that? Did he regret it? If he regretted it, did that mean he hadn't done it purely out of duty? "I know it was probably unnecessary and I should have asked you before just diving in." This was the one apology that Matthew wasn't quite sure about. They hadn't planned any of their kisses since the very first one. Yet, in light of the fact that Mary marched out of the club immediately after he kissed her, he supposed it must have irked her in some way.

Mary was momentarily perturbed that he hadn't yet apologised for betraying her feelings by being with another woman. Then she remembered that she'd deliberately concealed the fact that she had feelings, so he wasn't to know.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" Matthew asked softly.

The sound of Matthew's ringing phone distracted Mary. She glanced at it, where it sat on the table, and saw the name "Alice" displayed across it. Any iota of empathy she'd felt for Matthew instantly evaporated.

Following her gaze, Matthew's eyes widened in alarm. "That's my estate agent!" He said hastily.

"Oh, give it a rest." Mary hissed, barging past him to hold the door open for him to be drop-kicked out of the house. "You're an absolute pig!"

"No, wait," Matthew held her hand to halt her, "it really is - I'm moving flat."

"Since when?" Mary asked sceptically, ignoring the feel of his fingers clasped around hers.

"Since last night." Matthew blushed slightly. "After the story broke out, my flat was plagued by journalists within an hour or two. God knows how they found my address so quickly, or who gave it to them. Anyway, I spent most of the day forming a barricade against my front door to protect myself. Jacob called me last night to say I should find somewhere else to live, at least for a few weeks, because I won't be left alone as long as the media knows my address." He sighed, reflecting on just how stressful the past day had been. "It's an unfortunate coincidence that the estate agent that Jacob found me happens to share the name of the reason I have to move in the first place."

"I think you are as much the reason that you have to move as she is, if not more." Mary wasn't about to let him shirk responsibility for any of what had happened.

Matthew nodded in acceptance. He closed his eyes briefly, debating how much to say. Deciding it was best to be perfectly honest, both to atone for what he'd done and to ensure that they kept any future arguments to a minimum, he said, "I should probably mention - I'm an only child and I was rather spoilt by my parents...I was quite a precocious child so I hardly ever did any wrong in their eyes." He could see Mary frowning in confusion at this random tangent that he was embarking upon. "What I'm trying to say is...I guess I sometimes find it difficult to accept responsibility for my own stupidity, because I'm not used to behaving irresponsibly. But I now realise the full extent of my idiocy."

Mary appraised him for a moment. He did seem genuinely contrite and his apologies were delivered sincerely. "I suppose I shouldn't have called you a 'pig'." She shrugged with one shoulder, her way of accepting his apology. "Although you still are a bit of a pig."

"More like a piglet, you mean?" Matthew asked, his mouth curving up in a smirk. Mary stifled a chuckle at his stupid joke, unsure why she found it amusing in the first place. She still didn't want to seem too friendly towards him. "Look, I know you probably still don't like me very much." Matthew said more seriously, as if reading her mind. "Which is fine – you're entitled to dislike me. I just hope you know that I am sorry, and hope that you can trust me not to balls this up again." He looked at her imploringly, his eyes so blue that it took a moment for her to register what he'd said. He should have been a lawyer, she thought. Any judge and jury would find it impossible to resist a face that handsome and earnest.

"I guess I'll just have to trust you, won't I? The same way I just have to go along with whatever else is thrown at me." Mary said rather bitterly. Her whole life had been one long string of constraints and orders: "Go to this school, Mary", "Go to this university, Mary", "Spend your life as a socialite, Mary – your beauty and social skills would be wasted in an office job", "Let this man take you out for dinner, Mary", and now, "This is your new fake boyfriend, Mary". She looked up and could see the concern in Matthew's eyes. Sensing he was about to try to talk to her about it, she quickly interjected – he may have opened up a bit to her but there was nothing compelling her to do the same and she wasn't going to volunteer her inner feelings to him. "Anyway, we're fine." She smiled placidly at him. "I hear there's an event at Claridge's in a couple of days that we're supposed to go to?"

Matthew smiled widely in relief. In spite of what he'd said, he did actually want Mary to like him. He wasn't sure why, given that she hadn't exactly been friendly or kind to him, but there it was. "Yeah, there is. Shall I come by at about 7.30?" He asked tentatively, unsure whether she would allow him to pick her up.

"Sounds good." Mary nodded.

...

"I'm still a bit confused as to what this event is." Matthew said out of the side of his mouth as they walked past the small ensemble of classical musicians.

"It's a networking evening, essentially." Mary replied, leading him towards the bar. "The invitees are all young professionals or public figures of some sort."

"So we're supposed to spend the whole night brown-nosing?" Matthew asked unenthusiastically.

"As if we do anything else." Mary said pointedly, and Matthew smiled. He was about to try to catch the bartender's attention when he heard Mary let out a small gasp.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It's Megan!" Mary whispered excitedly. Matthew followed her line of sight and, sure enough, there was Megan McDonald at the other end of the bar, awkwardly standing by a group of people who were chatting animatedly.

"Do you think Michael will be here?" Matthew asked, glancing around.

"No, the event's for under-35s only, remember?" Mary said impatiently.

"Well, that's no good, then." Matthew turned back to the bartender.

An idea had struck Mary, however. As Matthew opened his mouth to order a Malibu and Coke for Mary and a Vodka and lemonade for himself, Mary butted in. "Six Jaegerbombs, please."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at her. "Keeping it classy, are we?" He teased. "I'm not really in the mood for three Jaegerbombs, I'm afraid."

"You're not having three Jaegerbombs." Mary retorted. "You're having two Jaegerbombs." She placed two of the glasses that the bartender gave her in front of him. "And I'm having two Jaegerbombs." She placed two glasses in front of herself. "And Megan McDonald is having two Jaegerbombs." A cunning smile spread across her face.

Matthew observed her for a moment. "You're trying to get her drunk so that she spills the beans, aren't you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm doing." Mary was a little put out that he didn't sound more impressed.

"And you're planning on doing this by recreating Freshers' week?" With a smirk, Matthew nodded his head towards the little shot glasses floating in a larger glass of Red Bull. He found it quite endearing how keen Mary was on investigating this matter.

Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you want to get to the bottom of this or not?"

Matthew nodded in acceptance of her scheme.

"Good. You wait here with the drinks and I'll go and get Megan. I know you're a womaniser but I think it makes more sense for me to fetch her." Mary said over her shoulder, knowing it would make Matthew cringe again.

A/N: well, the last chapter certainly divided opinions! Thankfully the majority of you enjoyed the spanner in the works, but I completely understand where the rest of you are coming from. I hope this chapter demonstrated how it was out of character for Matthew to act so unthinkingly. I was going to make this chapter longer but I don't know if I'll have time to finish off the rest of the event at Claridge's until next week or so, and I didn't want to make you wait longer!

Another note about reviews - please don't be negative towards other reviewers. I'd rather receive fewer reviews than receive ones that are unnecessarily rude (particularly if they're anonymous and don't even want to be identified in any way).

So, has Mary really forgiven him? Does Matthew acknowledge that he has any feelings for her? Maybe we'll find out next time?

Thanks so much for reading! xxx