A/N: You guys. Words cannot express my gratitude to you for the reads, follows and especially the lovely reviews I've received. I am so pleased that this little story resonates with so many of you who've been Downton fans and Richobel shippers for such a long time. You bless me with your kindhearted words. Please keep them coming. They are a balm to my soul!

Here we have the next installment, intended to answer a Tumblr prompt, namely: "Richobel and/or Chelsie and the song 'I See Your Face Before Me' (I am thinking of the Johnny Hartman version from The Bridges of Madison County)." Writer credits: Howard Dietz and Arthur Schwartz.

***Updated 1/27/16 - The songs mentioned herein are available on my Spotify. Search for Username: ericajanebarry , Playlist: Worthy and True. They add to the story.***

In a world of glitter and glow
In a world of tinsel and show
The unreal from the real thing is hard to know
I discovered somebody
Could be truly worthy and true
Yes, I found my ideal thing when I met you

I see your face before me
Crowding my every dream
There is your face before me
You are my only theme

It doesn't matter where you are
I can see how fair you are
I close my eyes and there you are
Always

If you could see the magic
If you could see me too
There would be nothing tragic
In all my dreams of you

Would that my love would haunt you so
Knowing, knowing I want you so
I can't erase your beautiful face before me
I can't erase your beautiful face before me

They hadn't had to wait long for his next day off, and on Wednesday morning of the next week Richard watched with admiration as Isobel sat in front of the vanity she'd had brought down from Crawley House, applying the faintest hint of color to her lips and cheeks and some kind of black powdered substance to her lashes. It was to be a momentous day for them and she preened a bit more than normal as she dressed herself that morning. She was irresistibly beautiful to him bare-faced, but when she turned toward him his breath caught at her radiance and he understood why taking care of her looks boosted her confidence. Wearing a plum-colored blouse with a deep blue skirt, fresh-faced with her hair impeccably styled, she was a vision to him.

"All right?" she asked with a tilt of her head as she watched him stare at her, his mouth slightly agape.

He straightened up, clearing his throat and smoothing the front of his jacket, and she shook her head and smiled at him. She was pleased that her appearance could evoke such behavior from him.

"Forgive me my ineloquence, Isobel, but you are quite stunning," he managed, leaning against the chaise lest his knees give way.

"You do wonders for my self-confidence, you daft, lovely beggar," she said as she approached him, pretending to adjust his bow tie for an excuse to touch him. He brought his hands to her waist and drew her closer, ducking his head and taking her lips gently, for he did not want to smudge her lip color.

"It'll smudge," she whispered with a shrug of her shoulders, "but I'll fix it. Kiss me again?"

"Oh, beguiling wench," he sighed against her lips, feigning exasperation. She giggled and his heart leapt at the sound. He kissed her more thoroughly and she sighed happily into his mouth. He loved the way she responded to his affections, and if he were honest it did have him longing to hasten their trip to the altar.

As if she were reading his thoughts, Isobel rested her forehead against Richard's, weaving her fingers through his. "It's three weeks now, love. Don't think I'm not impatient as well." She held him out away from her to look at him and was swept up in the love and desire she felt for him. Sometimes it seemed as if her heart could not contain it. She touched her fingertips to her lips in a vain attempt to disguise her emotions.

"Isobel?" He lifted her chin, and when she met his eyes he understood. Her eyes always betrayed whatever she was feeling. "Oh, my darling," he said, smiling softly at her.

"Reginald and I were so happy, you know. How I loved him! I ... I thought I loved him as much as one could ever love another person. I never knew there was more until I loved you, Richard. I married a wonderful man in my youth, but you, love. You're extraordinary." Richard was at a loss for words. He lifted Isobel's hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle and lingering over the third finger of her left hand. He looked up at her as he kissed her there and this time it was Isobel who felt her knees might give way when she saw the desire in his eyes. For a man, Richard was an open book, at least with Isobel. But he had not spoken of his want of her, so great was his resolve to protect her virtue.

"Oh, love," she breathed, overcome. "I do so hope you still look at me that way once all has been revealed. I'm afraid I am not the girl I was when last I was newly married."

He was surprised by this. His Isobel was a woman unafraid to voice her opinions on so many subjects, able to hold her own against the Dowager when even the outspoken Lady Mary would back away going toe-to-toe with him over patient care with such frequency that he was surprised when she didn't challenge him. The fact that there were areas in which her confidence was lacking was a matter he had not considered; that she feared her body would displease him made his heart heavy. Did he dare to tell her how he knew she had no reason to worry? That he had noted the elegant line of her body the moment he met her, had observed for years the sway of her hips as she walked the hospital corridors, the curve of her bottom as she bent over patients' beds, the rise and fall of her bosom as she argued the merits of controversial treatments? What would she think if she knew how little her floor-length, high-necked nightgowns actually hid her figure from him? No, he could not tell her. It would be ungentlemanly.

"Bel, my love, I tell you truly that you are exquisite. I'm afraid I'd embarrass us both if I were to reveal the reason for my certainty before our wedding night, but know this: you have me trembling in anticipation." He allowed his words to rest between them, meeting her astonished expression with a smoldering gaze.

"Now. I believe we've an engagement ring to sort out." He took the situation in command with a swift change of subject and had them in the car and on their way to York while she was still contemplating his words and the fire in his eyes. He glanced over at her several times, the high color in her cheeks telling him that his words had deeply affected her.

They'd had success, and a great deal of fun, at the jeweler's. Richard knew little of jewelry as a man and a doctor but he enjoyed listening to Isobel and the jeweler as they determined that, since she was a nurse and a doting grandmother, a bezel setting would be the best way to showcase the diamond while protecting it. Richard had been the one to suggest the particular setting they finally chose however, a delicately-textured, thin gold band with milgrain detailing around the circumference of the bezel case. To him it spoke of understated elegance, which was precisely how he would describe Isobel's beauty.

She had not expected to see her wedding band until they stood together at the altar, but as it happened he found one during their visit to the jeweler's that had special significance to him. It was a narrow gold band in an open Celtic knot work pattern that Richard explained was a simplified infinity knot, signifying that love has neither beginning nor end. Isobel was drawn to the timeless beauty and the meaning behind the design, and the two in concert with the jeweler concluded that it would look stunning with Isobel's engagement ring. As they were preparing to leave, Richard went ahead of Isobel to bring the car around and Isobel purchased a set of cuff links for him bearing the same Celtic knot work pattern as her wedding band.

They had settled the matter of the wedding itself in the days between Richard's proposal and the trip into York. It had been considerably more difficult to sort than Isobel's jewelry. Isobel wanted to elope to Gretna Green as Lady Sybil and Tom Branson had nearly done ("Let me see Scotland, Richard! Take me to your hometown and, for God's sake, let's get out from under the prying eyes of the Crawley family,") or simply visit the registry office.

Richard agreed with her that the marriage was theirs to celebrate and they expressed each one to the other that the kind of celebrating they had in mind involved the two of them, a bed and little else. For his part however, Richard wanted his conduct toward Isobel to be above reproach in the eyes of the Crawleys, and as such he argued for a church ceremony, Reverend Travis presiding over their vows and her family in attendance.

"However much you detest it now, my Bel, you'll be glad of it in the long run. Don't say you don't want Master George there. Think of the photographs he'll have to look back on one day. And your friendships with her Ladyship and Ladies Mary and Edith. You'll need them in your corner one day ... don't burn bridges. We will not allow them to take it over. This wedding will be on our terms, Isobel. I'll not compromise. I may fight my corner more quietly than you, love, but I know how to dig my heels in. You've no cause for concern on that front."

"If my honor is so important to you, then I shall concede. But what about you? I'll have a small army of Crawleys in attendance, but it's your wedding as much as it's mine, darling. Whom do you want to see there?" She regarded him with such warmth and concern that once again he was breathless, with nothing he could do but draw her close and press his lips to hers.

"You are like no other, Isobel," he said reverently, and she smiled as she kissed him, cupping his face in her hand.

"What do you want?" She whispered against his lips, pressing for an answer. This was to be his first wedding, after all.

He sighed, taking her hands in his. "The truth?" He asked, and she nodded. "You, Isobel. You and you alone are what I want. I know that all the pomp and circumstance aren't your cup of tea at all, but you can go that way when it's called for. Quite frankly it exhausts me, love. I take nothing from it but a headache most of the time. What I want ... all that matters to me ... is to be united with you in body, soul and spirit. But you ask a fair question. Whom would I like to have there, if it must be more than just us two? Mrs. Hughes is a countrywoman, so having her in attendance will be like bringing a bit of home along. And if she's going to be there, then Carson must be as well. Perhaps those two will follow our lead ... God knows it's high time they walk down the aisle themselves!" She laughed in agreement and he kissed the tip of her nose. "I think Molesley should be there ... as a guest, of course, like the others. He has been loyal to both of us for years. And Tom Branson. I don't think he'll feel he's meant to be included unless we invite him personally."

"I agree. He feels so on the outside, and it's a shame. He was Matthew's best friend, and he's been so kind to me since ... " Isobel trailed off as tears filled her eyes. It happened less often now that mentioning Matthew's name or thinking of him made her cry, but it was just over three months since his passing and there were bound to be difficult moments.

Richard drew Isobel close on the sofa and wiped her tears as they fell. "I know, Bel. Branson has come to look at you as a mother figure, I do believe."

She nodded against him. "And I agree with you. He looks after me much the same as Matthew did. Richard, I wonder ... if indeed we are having a church wedding, do you suppose Tom would escort me down the aisle?"

"I think it's a lovely idea, Bel," he told her.

The plans had unfolded from there. Richard and Isobel went to speak to Reverend Travis and the date was set. They would marry one month from the day Richard had proposed. The jeweler delivered Isobel's rings on the very day the pair were to announce their engagement during dinner at the Abbey. Richard sat Isobel on his lap when he placed the engagement ring on her finger.

"The next time I do this, I'll be saying, 'with this ring, I thee wed,'" Richard spoke raptly.

They kissed then, and Isobel, emboldened by the fact that the wedding date was now set, unbuttoned Richard's shirt. They did, after all, need to get changed for dinner. In the time since she'd come to live at the cottage, Isobel had seen - watched - Richard change his shirt in front of her a number of times, but he'd not afforded her the opportunity to touch him. Now he observed as her nimble fingers unfastened the row of buttons, unaware that he was holding his breath in anticipation of her touch. When she had released the buttons on his cuffs, Isobel pushed the fabric off Richard's shoulders and her hands came to rest on his bare skin.

A sibilant, "Oh," issued from Isobel's lips when her fingertips encountered his skin. He only heard it because he had seen her mouth move. He had been watching as each expression passed across her face. Softly she moved her fingers across his shoulders and over his chest and rib cage. He saw her eyes close, the tip of her tongue moistening her lips, the way her head lolled back as she took in the feel of him.

"Warm," she breathed, thinking aloud. Lord, the woman was driving him mad. "Warm and wonderful."

"Isobel," Richard said, voice low and husky. Wordlessly, she took his hand and placed it at her throat. It was her turn to watch as his fingers worked to release the buttons of her blouse one by one in the same manner as she had done for him. He pulled the fabric free and looked upon her, clad only in a brassiere from the waist up.

The fact that she did not wear a corset had been a shock of the most pleasant kind when he had first held her in his arms, but now that his eyes drank in what for so long he had only imagined, reality far outstripped his dreams.

Isobel's heart hammered as she regarded Richard's appraisal of her. He noted it, could see the pulse pounding in her throat.

"Isobel. Oh, my darling girl, don't. You are beautiful, above and beyond my wildest imagination. Look at me," he commanded, and when she did he pressed his lips to her sternum, just where the swell of her breasts began. She gasped. It had been twenty years since anything but her own hands had touched her body. She'd considered that aspect of life behind her now. Even now, deeply in love with Richard, she still had not dared to hope that he would want her.

Want her indeed! Richard traced the contours of Isobel's shoulders with fingertips trained to explore, wondering how it was that her skin could feel sweet. He brushed his lips over her collarbone and felt her hands clutch at him.

"Oh, Isobel," he sighed. She felt his breath against her skin and a tightness began to coil in her belly. "What we have to look forward to!"

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