He didn't even bother to tie the silken sash around his waist as his valet gathered his soiled things: a white shirt, a black coat, shoes to be polished. Robert only watched quietly as the valet finished his task and once he had gone, Robert slipped into the golden glow of the next room, warm with a fire in the hearth.

"Cora?"

The fire popped and crackled, but his wife made no sound. There she laid, her chin up, her hand resting on her stomach, her dark curls spilled across her pillow.

He shrugged off the robe, tossed it onto a creamy colored chair, and glanced at a peek through the curtains into the silvery night. It was snowing still, as it had been for nearly two days solid. It would be quite a white Christmas after all. He brought his gaze back to his sleeping wife.

"Cora?"

No response. Robert considered moving back quietly into his room, but then there it was. One small move from his wife convinced him otherwise.

She shifted her head ever so slightly in the pillow, a soft exhale accompanying her movement, and the flame's reflections threw themselves over her cheekbone like a veil.

He moved into her bed, pushing and pulling the heaviness of the covers and taking her soft hand into his own. He held it tightly. Ten months of marriage had afforded him this much. He knew how to wake her gently. So with a tender press, he kissed her hand and she hummed her approval.

"Cora."

He kissed her mouth as he said her name and she smiled against him. He watched in the flickering light as she opened her eyes.

"Are you very tired?" It was a fatuous question; he'd roused her from sleep. But to his delight, she shook her head.

"No, not very," she gave a slender smile. "Though I thought you'd be up hours ago."

Robert was already working his way atop of her, settling between her legs as she spoke, bringing his body closer to hers. "Mama and Papa wanted to finish discussing the change in arrangements for tomorrow." He kissed her mouth and then kissed her more fully when he felt her body, ever so slightly, rise up to meet his.

"The change?" Her words were spoken against his mouth, her hands all the while working to free him of his pajama trousers.

He nodded. "Mmm, yes." He spoke against her neck, near her ear. "Your parents are coming in two days, in time for Christmas," he kissed her, "James's arrival is now tomorrow," he kissed her, "and then of course there are all the others who've decided to come earlier as well." He kissed her again, tasting her mouth and relishing it. The words he spoke were just a memory on his lips, said without feeling and only because they lingered there between him and her. "Lord and Lady Plythe, Charles, Anne..."

Her hands were on his cheeks as she peppered kisses along his jaw, asking shortly, "Who?"

"Mama's friends," he answered mindlessly. "Their son, and their niece, Anne." Cora kissed his mouth. Suddenly, and quite involuntarily, he remembered a golden haired girl with whom he had grown. He saw her at eleven and taking a biscuit from his nanny. He saw her at fourteen and practicing a dance with Rosamund. He saw her at seventeen and riding out with him, a blue ribbon in her hair. "Anne," he heard his voice say again, whispered against his wife's lips, his ministrations ceasing and his mind settling in the images of years long gone.

Cora, too, had stilled. Or rather, she had stiffened considerably under his arms. "Anne?"

With a little shake of his head, he settled his eyes on his wife's. A flame popped in the silence.

"Never mind," he tried and touched her skin, closing his eyes.

But she moved beneath him, not allowing his fingers to find the hem of her nightdress to pull it higher.

"Robert," Cora's brows were hard and furrowed. "Who is Anne?"

"Never mind, Cora."

"Have I met her?"

He let out a huff of air. An instant sort of tiredness burned in his joints. "As I said before, Cora," he shook his head, though he wasn't sure why. "She's the niece of Mama's friend. I've known her since I was a child."

"Have you?"

He groaned.

"If you've known her for such a long while, then why haven't I met her? Surely she was at the wedding."

Robert's body had cooled considerably since he entered the room, and now obviously so had Cora's, so he rolled away from his wife and found his pajama bottoms in her bedclothes.

"You haven't mentioned her before," she was saying beside him. He sighed again.

"Why is that?"

He yanked the string of the pants tighter.

"Is she staying with the Plythes here through Christmas, Robert? I had hoped that we might find some time alone on Christmas Day-"

"- Cora," he had dressed himself and now sat at the edge of her bed, looking back at her. "I'm not sure how you've spent Christmases in the past, but we'll have an entire house full of our guests at Christmas. There'll be Christmas service in the morning, Christmas luncheon and Mama's sister is due in after then. Then, of course, Christmas dinner and to exchange gifts. I'm not sure we'll find time to ourselves before it's time to retire."

She gripped the sheets.

"And besides," he continued, now standing and taking his housecoat from the chair, "your parents haven't seen you in nearly a year. I'm certain they'll want their time with you."

"-As I'm sure your old friend, Anne, will want to have time with you."

Robert stared at her for a moment, his jaw aching from the clamp he held on his tongue. "It's late now, Cora, and so we had best be getting our rest."

Her chest fell when she let out a breath. "Robert," she was quieter, "why don't you stay?"

"Good night, Cora."

She watched as he disappeared through the dividing door, the metallic click leaving her alone in the warm light. A log in the fireplace broke and fell and she turned her head toward it, catching the last embers sparkle from the crash. She pushed out air through her nose, her chest feeling tight with irritation - irritation with herself.

She allowed herself to lie back on the pillow. She evened out her breath and watched the shadows of the dying fire crawl around her room. She swallowed the queasiness she suddenly felt, and her hands found her stomach beneath the sheet. She rested them there, spreading her fingers wide against the softness of her nightgown and closed her eyes.