Note: Thank you for the review! I really appreciate it!

It was progress of a kind, Mary supposed, as she stepped out of Madame Swann's dressmaking emporium in Ripon on Thursday afternoon.

Her mother had entrusted her with the task of delivering her order for several new autumn dresses and accessories. It was something Mary had done countless times before, but this year, this small task signified a slight thawing, a hint of forgiveness – the first sign of it in the three months since her fall from grace.

And Mary couldn't deny it was something of a relief to think her mother might eventually forgive her.

There was also the added bonus that this task meant she had a completely legitimate reason to book the motor. In turn, that meant she could spend time with Tom without anyone thinking it suspicious.

She'd told her mother that she was going to take advantage of going to Ripon and do a few errands of her own, and perhaps take tea in one of the plentiful tea shops in the pretty, little city. She'd bought a few trinkets in Madame Swann's to back up her story, but in reality, Tom was waiting for her to return to the car, and they were going to spend the afternoon together.

She turned and walked towards the motor, excitement fizzing through her blood as she saw him leaning against it. He straightened as he saw her coming back, his face lighting up with a smile as he opened the door for her and handed her into the back of the car.

Oh, what it was to have a lover, Mary thought as she settled in the back seat. To feel this light and happy all the time was simply marvellous, especially after everything that had happened. Tom took her mind off it all: the trauma of everything surrounding Kemal Pamuk, the wrenching disappointment of the entail and the gut-punch realisation that her father would not fight for her. She carried all of it lighter now she had Tom in her life.

She watched, unable to hold back her smile as he climbed into the front seat and raised his eyes to meet hers in the mirror.

'Where now?'

'Back to yours, I think,' she said, feeling shockingly bold. 'Although, I did also think we might perhaps stop somewhere on the way, somewhere quiet and secluded where we can take a walk together.'

'A walk?' he repeated, surprised.

'Yes. Don't laugh at this, but after the fair, I couldn't help thinking that I… I would quite like to walk arm in arm with you,' she said, suddenly shy and self-conscious about the sentimentalism of that wish.

The corners of Tom's eyes crinkled as he smiled. He turned in his seat to look at her, affection all over his face. 'That would be rather nice, I think,' he said, softly.

Mary beamed at him, relieved that he hadn't thought her foolish or overly sentimental. Because, honestly, she'd surprised herself with the strength of her desire to do something so simple and yet so forbidden with him.

Tom started the engine, shifting his eyes ahead. 'Let's find somewhere to walk.'

It was a little slice of heaven, really. The peace of the woods, the dappled sunlight, the gentle breeze, and – best of all – being able to walk arm-in-arm with a man she was already becoming dangerously fond of. Just walking along beside him made her heart sing.

They talked about everything and nothing, the conversation ebbing and flowing. Sometimes, they walked in silence, just enjoying each other's company.

Tom slipped his arm from hers, walking away for a moment.

'Where are you going?' Mary pouted, disappointed that he'd let go of her.

He bent and picked a handful of wildflowers, turning to her with a smile. 'Flowers for the most beautiful woman I know,' he said, holding them out to her.

Delight danced through her. She walked forward, taking the flowers from him, thrilled by his small gesture.

'No-one's ever given me flowers before,' she said, gazing at them, this pretty, little bunch of wild blooms.

'Never?'

'No. We have floral displays in the house, of course, but they're just there. They've never been for me,' she said, inhaling the scent of the flowers. She looked up at him, smiling. 'Thank you.'

He gazed at her and then stepped forward, ducking his head to kiss her, a short, tender kiss.

Mary made a small, happy noise. 'Shall we go back to the car? I think I'd like to sit and kiss you for a while before we have to go back.'

He smiled at her, reaching out to take her hand in his, linking their fingers together. 'Kissing sounds like a very fine idea. But we don't have to go back to the car to do that. Not yet.'

She looked down at their clasped hands – another first in this extraordinary week – and smiled, glancing up at him through her lashes.

'What are you suggesting? That we just stand here and do it?'

Tom grinned. 'Worried that your knees will go all weak when I kiss you, are you?'

Mary poked him in the stomach, laughing. 'Maybe you should be worrying about your own knees going weak. You know you can't resist me; you said so yourself.'

He chuckled and tipped his head over towards a fallen tree with a broad trunk. 'Perhaps they will. I'm just thinking that it will take much longer to get back to the car than it will to go and sit on that tree. And I don't want to wait to kiss you.'

Mary smiled, letting him tug her gently towards the tree. 'That's all well and good, but I can't go home with my skirt covered in bits of bark, not when I'm supposed to have been having a civilised afternoon in Ripon.'

'Well, that's a problem easily solved,' he said as he reached the fallen tree. He sat down on the trunk and pulled her onto his lap. 'You can sit on me.'

Mary laughed, delighted by his solution. 'That's very gallant of you.'

'I thought so,' Tom replied, amiably. He tipped his face up to her. 'Do I get a reward for that?'

Mary carefully placed her flowers in her lap and then took his face between her hands and smiled down at him. 'Oh, yes. I rather think you do.'

She bent her head, bringing her lips to his, joy and excitement and sheer pleasure at being able to do this out in the open air without any fear of discovery or judgment rushing through her.

Edith barged into the small library where Sybil was deliberating over rereading Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time or trying one of her father's beloved books of the stories of the Greek gods of old.

'What's all this about you and Mary coming around the churches with me and Matthew on Saturday?' she demanded.

'Well, hello to you, too,' Sybil said, looking up in surprise.

'Why are you coming?'

'Because Cousin Isobel invited us.'

'You could have said no!'

'That would have been rather rude of us, though, don't you think?' Sybil observed, mildly. 'After all, she made a special trip up to the Abbey specifically to invite us to join you.'

Edith frowned. 'Why on earth would she do that?'

'I have no idea. You'd have to ask her. But she was quite insistent.'

Edith narrowed her eyes, her mouth pinching into a flat, hard line. 'I bet Mary put her up to it.'

Sybil shook her head. 'I doubt that very much. Mary wasn't all that enthused by the idea. She's not exactly renowned for her interest in Norman architecture.'

'Of course, she looked unenthusiastic! It's not about the architecture! It's all part of her plan!' Edith cried, the cogs tumbling into place in her brain.

'What plan?'

'Her plan to keep me and Matthew apart!'

'Does she have a plan for that?' Sybil enquired, trying to look innocent.

'I jolly well think she does! She can't bear the thought that Matthew might prefer my company to hers!'

'And does he?'

'Most certainly. At least, I think he does,' Edith replied, not quite as certain of that she would like to have been.

'Well then, you have nothing to worry about, do you?' Sybil calmly pointed out.

'Hmmph. Well, if I know Mary, she's up to something,' Edith grumbled. 'That's why she's got Cousin Isobel to invite you both along.'

'Does it really matter, Edith? It's not like it was going to be just you and Matthew anyway, was it? Not with his mother tagging along.'

'Maybe not, but it would have given me a chance to get to know them both better.'

'Trying to make a good impression on your future mother-in-law, are you?' Sybil asked, unable to hide her smile.

Edith glared at her, hands on her hips. 'You sound like Mary, Sybil. And it doesn't suit you. But so what if I want to make a good impression on Cousin Isobel? What's wrong with that?'

'I didn't say there was anything wrong with that, did I?' Sybil said, suddenly thinking she must remember to tell Mary about this conversation. If Edith wanted to make a good impression on Isobel, it could play right into their own plans for Saturday's ecclesiastical agenda.

'Hmm. Good,' Edith said, feeling slightly mollified. 'Well, as long as Mary doesn't try anything like trying to monopolise Matthew. Because I will not stand for it.'

'Right, well, you can tell her that,' Sybil replied, deciding to take both books with her. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to sign these into the ledger, so Papa doesn't lecture me.'

Edith watched her sister walk off, already planning how to make sure Mary didn't spoil her afternoon with Matthew.

Mary sighed, tilting her head, delighting in the feel of Tom's lips tracing over her skin.

'Oh, I never knew having my neck kissed would make me feel so wobbly,' she murmured, raising one hand to cup his head.

He chuckled, huffing puffs of breath against her skin, making her shiver. 'Wobbly, eh? Well, I must be doing something right then.'

'Oh, you are. Believe me, you are,' she replied, closing her eyes.

'Do you need to lie down?' he asked, still mouthing along her neck.

'What? Here?' Mary asked, severely tempted.

'Why not? It might be nice, lying on the grass in the sunshine. I can spread my jacket out, so you don't get your dress dirty.'

She lifted her hand and stroked it down his face, touched by the thought. 'All right.'

Tom grinned up at her, stole another kiss and then gently pushed her to her feet, rising and unbuttoning his tunic.

'Have I ever told you that you look very handsome in that colour green?' she said, watching him take his tunic off.

'Do I?'

'Yes. It suits you very well. It complements your eyes and your colouring,' she said, smiling at him.

He grinned at her and then looked around, carefully choosing a sun-washed patch of grass and laying his jacket on the ground. He held out his hand to her and she accepted it, sinking to her knees with him.

He clasped her around her waist, pulling her into him.

'So, you think I'm handsome?'

'I might do, yes,' she said, smiling cheekily. 'I mean, you certainly don't look like the back end of a horse. I shouldn't think I'd be all that keen on kissing you if you did.'

'No, probably not,' he agreed, his lips seeking hers again.

Mary sighed, winding her arms around his neck and letting him draw her down onto the grass, cradling her in his arms, kissing her all the time.

As the kiss gentled, she tucked her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm over his waist, feeling that curious mix of contentment and excitement she only ever felt when she was with him.

'There. This is nice, isn't it?' he murmured, his fingers slowly rubbing up and down the top of her arm.

'It's lovely.' She paused, feeling shy all of a sudden as words she didn't expect began to pile up in her throat. 'I… I love spending time with you.'

Tom turned his head towards her, a smile on his lips. 'I love spending time with you too,' he murmured, brushing a kiss on her hair.

You make me feel so…' She trailed off unsure what she was trying to say.

'So what?'

Mary thought about that, her fingers playing with one of the buttons on his waistcoat as she searched for the right word.

'Happy,' she said eventually, realising that it was as simple as that.

Tom smiled, crooking his index finger under her chin to tip her face up towards him. 'Good. Because that's how I feel when I'm with you, too. Happy.'

Mary gazed at him and then leaned in to kiss him, suddenly desperate to stop thinking about how he made her feel. It scared her a little, the intensity of these unfamiliar feelings. It was easier to kiss him than to look too carefully at what was in her heart.

Mary lay against Tom, listening to him talk about Dublin, idly stroking her hand up and down his thigh, revelling in this casual intimacy until he let out a small groan.

'Stop,' he said, catching her hand.

'Why? Don't you like me touching you?' she pouted, trying to twist her fingers free.

He held her hand tighter and dipped his head to kiss her. 'I like it too much. That's the problem.'

'What do you mean?'

He hesitated for a moment.

'Tom? Tell me.'

'You stroking my leg like that, it's… it's… doing things to me,' he said, blushing slightly.

'What things?' Mary asked, curiosity and excitement rising within her.

'It's making me… too excited.'

Mary looked down, seeing a bulge in his trousers that hadn't been there before. 'You mean your… your thing?' she asked, pulling her hand free and reaching a finger towards it. Tom caught her hand again before she could touch him.

'Yes,' he said, clasping her hand to his chest.

'But I didn't touch you there.'

'No, but you don't have to for my body to react to you. It's enough that you're here in my arms, kissing and stroking me,' he admitted, feeling awkward.

Mary gazed at him, flicking her eyes to his crotch again and then back up to look him in the eyes, fascinated by this new discovery. 'I didn't know that.'

'Well, you do now.'

'I thought I'd have to touch it directly.'

'No. It has a mind of its own,' he said, ruefully.

'Does it hurt?' she asked, curiously. 'When it gets bigger?'

He huffed out a small laugh. 'No.'

Something else occurred to her. 'Will it hurt if you don't… er, don't do something about it?'

'No. It might just be a bit awkward for a while until it goes away.'

'Do you need to do something to it to make it go away?'

'No. I could, but I'm not going to. I'll let it go down by itself,' Tom said, fervently hoping he could will it away fairly quickly.

'What would you normally do to make it go away?' she asked, her curiosity overwhelming her.

Tom's cheeks reddened. 'Well, if I was alone at the cottage, I'd, er, touch myself.'

'Touch yourself? How?'

'I don't think you really need to know that, Mary.'

'But I want to know.'

He gazed at her, chewing on his lip, debating whether to answer her.

'Please tell me. You and I, we talk about things. We tell each other the truth. And you teach me about the things nobody else will tell me about, so tell me,' she murmured, glancing down at his crotch again.

'I'd… well, I'd wrap my hand around it and… and… well, I'd tug on it. Repeatedly'

'Really? Until when? Until your seed comes out?' Mary asked intrigued.

'Yes.'

She studied his face before she asked her next question, a fleeting memory of Mr Pamuk making her tug his member crossing her mind. She shook it away, not wanting to think about that man.

'Has it grown because you want to… to make love to me?'

Tom blinked, surprised at the bluntness of her question. 'Well, er, it's happened because I'm attracted to you, and you were touching me and kissing me. But I wasn't thinking about anything like that.'

Mary bit her lip, watching him carefully. 'I don't think I'm ready for that,' she said honestly, feeling slightly panicky. 'As much as the thought intrigues me, it frightens me too.'

Tom bent his head towards her, his face serious. He took hold of her chin, looking directly into her eyes. 'I'm not expecting anything like that from you, Mary. I promise. I'm not him. I'm not going to use you or take from you to satisfy my own desires. I'm not that type of man.'

'I know. I know you're not,' she whispered, emotion welling in her chest. After what had happened with Pamuk, the knowledge that Tom would never do that to her filled her with relief. And she knew beyond a doubt that he would never hurt her, never force her to do anything she didn't want to do.

'It's just something that's happened. It's not something you need to worry about,' he said, still looking to reassure her. 'It's my problem, not yours. And it will go away.'

She nodded, her huge, brown eyes fixed on his.

'I won't ever touch you in any way you're not comfortable with, I promise you that,' Tom vowed, not breaking eye contact. 'If you ever want me to stop touching you or kissing you, all you have to do is say the word and I'll stop.'

Mary nodded again.

'I'm not him.'

'I know.'

Tom scoured her face, looking for reassurance that she believed him.

Mary raised her hand and cupped his cheek.

'I know you're not him,' she said, firmly. 'You're a thousand times the man he was.'

He gazed at her a moment longer and then turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. Mary watched him, her heart expanding in her chest, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

'We should probably make a move to go back to the car,' he said when she pulled back. 'I think we should set off for Downton soon. Get you home.'

'Back to the real world,' Mary said, resignation in her voice.

'Yes.'

She pushed herself to her feet, smoothing down her skirt. 'Sometimes, I hate the real world.'

He glanced up at her as he knelt to pick his jacket up from the grass and shake it out. 'Today was real too.'

She looked over at him, a wistful look on her face. 'Yes. There are just not enough days like today.'

Tom stood, folding his jacket over his arm, and then he held out his hand to her. 'Then let's make the most of the time we do have.'

She took his hand and then stopped. 'Wait! My flowers.'

He watched as she bent to pick up the small bunch of flowers he'd given her. 'I thought you'd have to leave them here.'

Mary arched an eyebrow. 'Leave them here? Are you out of your mind? These are the first flowers anyone has ever given me. I'm definitely not leaving them here. I'm going to take them home and keep them. Maybe even press a few to remind me that some days are more special than others.'

He smiled, holding out his hand again. 'You know, I would never have pegged you as sentimental.'

She slipped her hand in his again, favouring him with a bright smile. 'Maybe there's more to me than meets the eye.'

He chuckled. 'Oh, that's for sure.'

Mary dipped her head, sniffing her precious flowers as she walked alongside him towards the car. She would take them home and pretend to everyone she picked them herself. Only she would know the truth, that they were a gift from her secret lover. She would definitely save a few and press them, she decided. A permanent reminder of this lovely day.

'Nearly home,' Mary said with a sigh as they drove through the outskirts of the village of Downton.

'Yes.'

'I don't suppose we have time to divert to your cottage for a while, do we?'

Tom glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 'No, not really. We spent longer in the woods than we probably should have.'

Mary smiled at him in the mirror. 'I had a lovely time in the woods.'

'So did I,' he replied, smiling back.

'Is there a little side cutting or something we could stop in before we get to the house? Just for one more little kiss?' she asked, hopefully.

He chuckled, flicking his eyes back up to the mirror to meet hers. 'No, not that close to the house. Besides, wouldn't that be a little risky? Any one of the groundsmen could be roaming the estate. What would they think if they came upon the chauffeur pressing his lordship's eldest daughter into the leather of the back seat of the car?'

'You're assuming an awful lot of this stop, Branson,' Mary said in her best milady voice. 'I rather think it might be me pressing you into the back seat of the car than the other way around.'

Tom let out a laugh, delighted by her response. 'Well, you're welcome to press me into anything you want, milady. I certainly wouldn't put up a fight.'

Mary smiled and then squinted out of the window at a figure on the street, clutching her hat with one hand and waving frantically with the other.

'Is that Edith?' she asked, her heart sinking.

'I believe it is,' Tom said, bringing the motor smoothly to a stop beside Lady Edith, who grabbed the door handle and opened it before he could move.

'Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was going to be late for tea and then I saw you coming through the village,' Edith said in relief as she plopped down onto the back seat.

Mary scooped her precious flowers out of the way as Tom slid out of the driving seat to close the door behind Edith.

'Oh, sorry, Branson. I should have thought to shut the door behind me. I was just in such a fluster,' Edith said, settling herself more comfortably.

'That's quite all right, milady,' he said, closing the door and moving back to his seat.

'Where have you been?' Edith asked, turning her attention to Mary. She pointed at the flowers 'And where did you get those?'

'I've been to Ripon. I was running a few errands for Mama,' Mary said, ignoring the comment about the flowers.

'Ripon? Really? I didn't think they had many wildflowers in the centre of Ripon,' Edith said, arching an eyebrow at her sister. 'Where else have you been?'

Mary kept her eyes on Edith, determined not to look at Tom in the mirror, no matter how great the temptation was. 'Well, I fancied a walk, so I asked Branson to stop on the way back and I picked some flowers.'

Edith's eyes widened. 'You stopped for a walk by yourself?'

'Well, er, yes.'

'I know you like walking, Mary, but was that wise on land that doesn't belong to Papa? You could have bumped into anyone, any ne'er-do-well or ruffian, in someone else's woods.'

'Well, um, I…'

'I walked with her, milady,' Tom said from the front seat. 'For precisely those reasons.'

Edith looked at him, obviously surprised by his intervention. 'Did you?'

'Yes, he did. So, you see I was perfectly safe all the time. Not a ne'er-do-well or ruffian in sight. And if there had been, Branson would have seen them off,' Mary said, coolly.

'Hmm, yes, I suppose he would have,' Edith said, her eyes falling to the breadth of Tom's shoulders.

Mary felt a prickle of annoyance that Edith seemed to be assessing Tom's physicality. She didn't want anyone else looking at him like that, particularly not Edith, even though she knew it would ever enter her sister's mind to look at a servant in any other way than as someone to attend to her whims and follow her orders.

'So, I hear you and Sybil are coming to look at churches with me and Matthew on Saturday,' Edith said, briskly changing the subject.

'Er, yes, apparently so,' Mary said, affecting an air of nonchalance.

'Why?'

'Why?' Mary echoed, wondering what Edith expected her to say.

'Yes. You're not remotely interested in churches, so why are you coming?'

'Because Cousin Isobel asked us to join you.'

'Just like that?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Cousin Isobel just asked you out of the blue to come on the church trip, did she?' Edith asked, suspiciously.

'Yes.'

'I don't believe you.'

'What? Why not? You can ask Sybil then, or Mama. They were both there when Isobel extended the invitation.'

'But was that because you put her up to it?'

Mary gawped at her sister. 'Why on earth would I do that?'

'So you can try to barge in between me and Matthew. Don't think I don't know your game,' Edith said, accusingly.

Mary narrowed her eyes, her spine stiffening. 'And what game would that be?'

'You think you can take him from me. You think you can just smile prettily and say something clever, and he'll abandon me for you.'

Despite herself, Mary glanced at the mirror, seeing Tom's eyes on her. She tore her eyes away, switching her attention back to Edith, trying not to think about Tom listening to their conversation. 'Don't be ridiculous.'

'It's not me who's ridiculous. It's you – as you'll find out to your cost if you try to make a play for Matthew on Saturday. He won't fall for your machinations.'

'My machinations?' Mary repeated, raising an eyebrow. 'Can you actually hear yourself? You sound deranged.'

'I'm telling you now, Mary, don't even think about trying to steal Matthew's attention from me. I won't stand for it.'

'You won't stand for it?' Mary said, feeling her hackles rising.

'No, I won't,' Edith said, her chin sticking out belligerently as she stuck her nose in the air, glaring at her older sister. 'And stop repeating everything I say. It's very annoying.'

'You wouldn't have any choice in the matter. Because I don't need to resort to machinations of any kind to take Matthew from you. I could simply put on my prettiest day dress and bat my eyes at him, and he'd drop you in a second to come running to me,' Mary said, enunciating each word carefully, ice-cold anger running through her veins. 'You know it and I know it. Because you don't hold a candle to me. You never have. You're a dandelion in the shade of a sunflower, Edith. Everyone knows that.'

Edith flushed, her lips flattening into a hard line as fury whipped through her.

'But it is all academic because he is not yours in the first place. And he never will be,' Mary continued, her tone sweetness and light even as she sliced and diced Edith with her words. 'Matthew is far too attractive and interesting to shackle himself to the likes of you for the rest of his life.'

Edith glanced at Branson in the driving seat as he pulled the car up in front of the great doors of Downton Abbey, embarrassed to be spoken to in this way in front of a servant.

'You're a nasty, evil witch,' she hissed through gritted teeth. 'And you're going to regret saying that to me; I can promise you that.'

'Oh, grow up, Edith. It's about time you accepted that you will never win against me. You simply don't have the wits or the wherewithal,' Mary retorted as Tom opened the back door to allow them to exit the car.

Edith glared at her sister, absolutely livid. 'I mean it, Mary, I'll make you rue this day.'

'Go ahead and try. But you won't succeed. I will always be able to take any man from you, and that's what really gets your goat,' Mary called after her as Edith turned her back and stepped out of the car, taking Tom's hand to steady herself. She threw another poisonous glare over her shoulder and stalked into the house.

Angry with her sister, Mary slid across the seat to take Tom's hand, feeling his fingers stiff in his gloves. She glanced up at him, suddenly aware that he'd heard every word she'd said in response to Edith's provocation.

He stared straight ahead, his face a blank mask, the image of the perfect servant, but Mary knew better, knew he was upset with her.

She shot a quick look at Thomas standing several yards away by the main door.

'Tom,' she whispered, trying not to move her lips as she spoke to him.

He didn't reply, simply standing as still as a statue, her hand resting in his.

Mary felt her heart sink as she stepped out of the car, wishing she'd held her tongue for once.

'Thank you, Branson,' she said formally as she let go of his hand.

He nodded stiffly, standing to attention, still saying nothing.

Mary stifled a sigh and headed for the door, hearing him close the car door behind her. Suddenly, she remembered the wildflowers lying on the back seat. She turned around just as Tom slid into the driver's seat.

'Wait, Branson!' she called, walking back towards the car.

He looked at her, his face still closed off.

'My flowers,' she said, as she pulled open the back door again and stepped inside.

Once inside the car, and with her back to Barrow, she grazed her fingers along the stiff line of his shoulder, trying to soothe him. 'Don't listen to anything I say to Edith. She provokes me no end. I don't mean any of it,' she murmured in a low voice.

'Don't you?' he answered in an equally low voice. 'Because it sounded like you did.'

'Well, I don't. I have no designs on Matthew.'

'Even though he's the heir? And attractive and interesting?' he asked, his voice clipped, his words pointed.

'Yes.'

'Right,' he said, sounding far from convinced.

'Do you need some help, milady?' Thomas's voice came, closer to the car now.

Mary sighed, scooping up her flowers. 'No, thank you, Thomas.'

'Very well,' the footman replied, still sounding close by.

'Thank you for today, Tom,' she whispered.

He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Mary sighed again and backed out of the car, clutching her flowers.

Thomas closed the car door behind her as Mary turned to look at Tom's profile in the driving seat. He sat there stony-faced and then started the car.

Mary turned back towards the house, conscious of Thomas looking curiously at her and the wildflowers she was holding. She squared her shoulders and walked towards the house, wishing she'd had a chance to talk to Tom properly and make him understand that Edith pushed her to say things she didn't mean.

She couldn't help but think that she may have upset him with her talk of batting her eyes at Matthew to take him from Edith. She had no intention of doing that, but after their conversation about her being the intended bride for the Grantham heir for so long, she could see that perhaps Tom might think she was going to make a play for Matthew.

After such a lovely afternoon together, it grieved her to end it on a low note with the possibility of Tom labouring under a misunderstanding. He was the one who made her feel special and cherished, nobody else. She hated that through her own stupid behaviour and her ever-present desire to win against Edith, she may have unintentionally made him feel like he was unimportant to her when that was far from the truth. Right now, there was nobody on this earth who was more important to her. And that both thrilled her and scared the living daylights out of her.