"Holy shit!"

"For God's sake, Ruby," Mary whispers. "If you say that one more time…"

"You'll what?" Ruby cuts in. "Send me to my room?"

Mary eyes June Gillingham's back, trying to gauge whether or not their host can hear her assistant's comments, knowing that Tony's quiet younger sister is unlikely to say anything, even if she can.

"In a place like this, I have no issues with that," Ruby continues. "Especially if our esteemed host stops by to check on me."

Ruby wiggles her eyebrows as they continue towards their assigned bedrooms.

"Willington Manor is beautiful, but you've seen impressive estates before, Ruby," Mary murmurs, nudging Charles in the ribs as he snickers under his breath.

"Yes," Ruby returns. "But this one's attached to Mr. Tall, Dark, Dreamy and Single." The brunette looks over her shoulder, trying to catch another glance at Tony Gillingham before they turn a corner. "And God, how that man fills out his trousers."

Ruby licks her lips suggestively.

"Told you she'd like him," Charles says, somehow managing to disguise his remark in a cough.

"Don't act so smug," Mary shoots back, rolling her eyes at the next holy shit Ruby whispers as they ascend the staircase. She pauses, biting down a grimace as her knee chooses this particular moment to protest all of the recent activity she's required of it.

"Do you know what it would cost to construct railing like this?" Ruby whispers,oblivious to Mary's discomfort.

"More than either of us are likely to see in a lifetime," Mary replies. "One reason I love designing with other people's money."

"Here, here," Ruby agrees before stopping in her tracks to ogle a large landscape framed on the wall.

"Don't say it," Mary instructs preemptively. Ruby shoots her a friendly glare and mouths holy shit instead. "You're sadly predictable, you know."

"I prefer to think of myself as consistently exciting," Ruby replies.

"Hmmm," Mary murmurs. " I wonder how Mr. Tall, Dark and Dreamy would describe you?"

"The way he was checking out my cleavage, I'd love to know, too," Ruby replies, tossing Charles a wink. Ruby's dress did little to discourage such perusal, dipping down in the front to a level somewhere between daring and risquee.

Mary rolls her eyes again before wincing.

"You all right?"

Charles gazes from her knee to her face, and she nods, determined not to let him know just how much she'd love to prop her leg up for a mere ten minutes.

"I'm fine," she insists, annoyed by the sluggish pace she's been forced to adopt.

"I still think you should have let me carry you up the stairs," Charles muses. "Your knee is still healing, and we couldn't ask for a more romantic vista than this for such a cavalier move."

"In your dreams, Casanova," Mary quips. "Now shut up and walk."

"As you wish," Charles hums, earning himself an exasperated sigh.

June remains predictably quiet as she leads them to Ruby's room first, finally smiling as the leggy female surveys her quarters with obvious appreciation.

"This place is fantastic," Ruby states, making her way to the window beside her bed and peering through the glass. Tony's outside now, Mary notices, in full view of Ruby's not-so-subtle perusal. "And the view is second to none."

"I'm glad you like it," June replies, blinking rapidly as she seems prone to doing. "I personally prefer the garden view, but there is a lovely copse to be seen from this vantage."

"I have a soft spot for copses," Ruby hums.

"Is that what she's calling it these days?" Charles murmurs into Mary's ear, prompting her to elbow him lightly in the ribs.

"We'll leave you to get settled, then," June states, tucking a tight black curl behind one ear and eyeing them as if fully aware that she's missing something in conversation. "If the two of you would just follow me."

Charles's arm slides around Mary's back, settling dangerously close to her derriere, and she reaches up to rub her right temple, trying her best to ward off the beginnings of a headache. Her knee hasn't seen this much activity since she was injured, and she hadn't suspected that moving around so much could make her feel both worn out and somewhat lightheaded.

"I've got you," Charles whispers. "Lean on me as much as you need."

"I'm half-tempted to go with that sweep me off my feet move," she confesses.

"I've had lots of practice, if you remember," he says. "I won't drop you. I think you know that by now."

She does know it, in more ways than one, and something squeezes tight inside her chest, still unsure of what to do with this man she relies upon more than she's ever relied upon anyone. It's still somewhat terrifying, if she's being honest with herself, even though it's also the most reassuring sensation she's felt in her adult life.

"I know," she breathes. "But as I'm getting paid for this weekend, I believe I should at least attempt to make it to our room on my own two feet."

June guides them down a lengthy hallway and turns a left corner, directing them to a door to their immediate right. Mary sighs in relief as they step inside, her knee practically screaming at her by this point, her head now joining in the melee.

"Still no garden view, I'm sorry to say," June states, tossing them a nervous smile. "If we'd not already promised that room to our other guests…"

"It's perfectly alright. I actually prefer a lake view," Mary interjects. God, she'd take a circus view at the moment if she could just lie down for a few minutes.

"I'm afraid that our gardner is getting on in years," June explains, gesturing out the window. "I know the lake area needs some tending before we open our doors to the public. It has a rather wild look at the moment."

"Looks very natural, in my opinion," Charles says.

"Tony says the same thing," June replies. "But I fear that potential paying guests who might enjoy a walk by the lake would prefer an easily accessible path unencumbered by nature."

"I freely admit that landscaping is not my specialty," Mary says as Charles's grip on her tightens. "But I do have two landscapers I can recommend with confidence who specialize in complementing nature rather than reworking it entirely. Their work is exceptional, and their prices are fair. I can contact them and get you some estimates and ideas if you like."

"Thank you," June sighs in relief. "That would be very helpful. There's so much to think about in this transition process."

Her knee is throbbing now, and Mary isn't sure if she'd rather vomit or collapse onto the large, ornate bed.

"That there is," she replies instead, swallowing down a tinge of bile. "But you have a lovely estate here, June, one with excellent potential. I want to do everything I can to make this a successful venture for you and your brother."

"I'm so glad," June replies, tucking another curl behind her ear. "It means a great deal to Tony and me, being able to keep the estate in the family."

"I'm all for keeping estates with the families who've tended to them for generations," Mary says, fighting down a second wave of nausea. Shit. This is not good.

"I must say, Mary, that I was both surprised and relieved that you agreed to work with us," June continues, seemingly oblivious to the other woman's discomfort. "After what happened between you and Tony, I mean."

Charles's eyebrow shoots up in her direction, but she can't worry about that now, not when her legs are melting out from under her.

"Are you alright, Mary?"

"I'm fine," Mary insists as Charles's grip around her middle strengthens, his face now creased in concern.

"If you don't mind, I think Mary should lie down for a bit," Charles interjects. "Her knee is still out of sorts, and I fear the trip here along with all of the walking have worn her out."

Mary attempts to look apologetic.

"Of course," June states, blinking as she moves quickly to the door. "Take all the time you need. Dinner will not be served until seven, so you have a few hours to recuperate."

"Thank you," Charles returns. She's wilting, and he knows it. "We'll see you then."

June smiles as she exits, shutting the door behind her.

"Sit," Charles commands, backing her up to the mattress and guiding her down. "Christ, Mary, you're as pale as a ghost."

"I'm alright," she insists, reaching up to rub her aching head.

"Liar," he retorts. "You've been wincing your way down the hall and rubbing your temples repeatedly. You're hurting, and you need to rest."

"I may need to vomit, actually," she admits. He curses under his breath and grabs the first dustbin he can find, placing it at her feet. He begins to rub her back as she breathes in and out, feeling the acuteness of the nausea begin to fade little by little.

"Better?" he asks.

"Somewhat," she replies.

"You still look like shit," he states, earning himself a quirked eyebrow. "Now tell me, do you want a pillow for your knee?"

"That would be divine," she hums, closing her eyes as he props her knee gently on the softest pillow he can find.

"I'll fetch some paracetamol from your bag," he continues, making his way to the bathroom to pour her a glass of water. "If you think you can keep it down." She nods, so he fetches the medicine. "I might just lie down with you."

"How late did you stay up writing last night?" she asks, propping herself up just enough to swallow the painkillers without spilling water all over herself.

"Until after two," he replies. Her brows crease in consternation.

"Then it's your own fault that you're tired," she states, sinking back into her pillow with a sigh.

"And what's your excuse?" he asks. "You went to bed with the chickens." His eyes study her intently, and she closes her eyes again, trying to fight back the mild nausea that punctuates his question. "You've been tired a lot this week. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"You're far too observant sometimes," she murmurs.

"One of my many faults," he states.

She's noticed the changes in her body, as well. Christ, she couldn't miss them, an almost bone-crushing fatigue that would hit her out of nowhere, occasionally accompanied by mild headaches or bouts of nausea.

"Are you late?"

His question is gentle, as is his touch on her leg.

"Yes, but barely," she answers. "Not enough to worry over. Not yet, anyway."

He smiles as he gathers her hand in his own.

"I'm not worried, Mary" he murmurs, placing a kiss on her palm. "I promise. Just curious." She wishes she could be as calm as he, and tears begin to mere possibility of having a baby right now scares the shit out of her. "But you are?" he questions, gently stroking her cheek.

"I'm terrified," she confesses as a tear breaks free. He catches it before lying down beside her and gathering her into his arms. "And exhausted."

"Shhh," he breathes, kissing her hair as he strokes her back. "Just rest. Everything will sort itself out when you wake up." Somehow, his logic makes sense to her, at least for the moment. Fatigue takes over as he continues tracing soft patterns on her spine, lulling her eyes shut, and she's under before she realizes what's happened, her body lax, her mind blissfully blank.

She awakens slowly, startled to see that she's slept for over two hours. Charles is nowhere to be seen, and she wonders where he's off to as she props herself up and gazes blearily around their room.

Who in God's name decided that wallpapering this room was a good idea? She shakes her head, gratified to discover that both her headache and nausea have receded as she sits up and moves to the edge of her bed. Her knee feels decidedly better, and she bends and straightens it slowly, warming up muscles that aren't used to being worked so hard.

Then everything hits her again, and she swallows bile. Shit.

She breathes in and out until the waves begin to settle, and she takes a sip of water, closing her eyes as it soothes the slight burn in her throat.

Maybe she's not pregnant. Maybe all of these symptoms stem from the stress of worrying about the mere possibility of it. After all, she's never really been the maternal type, has she? It was probably for the best that she lost Matthew's baby when she did, as much as she grieved the loss in silence. He would have married Lavinia anyway, and then things would have been as complicated as hell. How in God's name would she have managed as a single parent? Would Charles even be in her life if she'd come as a package deal with another man's child in tow?

Can she even see herself as a mother at all?

She shivers, not entirely certain of the answer as old pain and regret slide their way up her legs, enveloping her skin like a pair of worn silk stockings.

"Oh, God," she murmurs, shaking her head. "What have we done, Charles?"

Her hand settles on her stomach, and she tries to visualize she and Charles with a baby. It's so easy to see him as a father-Christ, he's a natural, and when she thinks about his mother, his entire family, actually, it all just fits. He was both born and raised to be a nurturer. The manner in which he'd jumped in to take care of her after she'd sprained her knee when they'd only just met is evidence enough of that. Yes, he needs to be a father, needs a horde of children tugging at his trouser legs and snuggling into his chest as he sings them to sleep just as he has her on more than one occasion.

But her? Would she be a good mum?

Yes, she loves her mother, they get along well, thankfully. But Cora has never been what anyone would call a traditional mum. Lord, she's as far from that distinction as Madonna ever was. And then there's her practically non-existent father, one who allows his young wife to keep their son away from his sisters out of nothing more than petty spite.

God, what a family lineage. What could she, a workaholic ice queen have to offer a child other than a some decent physical genes and a good sense of style? And would having a baby this soon in their relationship strengthen it or damage it beyond repair? After all, she and Charles have been together only a short amount of time. How thoughtless it was of her to neglect making certain that a child couldn't be conceived until they were certain of where they stand and where they're going.

Stress twists her stomach and pokes at her temples once again.

"No better?"

His voice both soothes and unnerves her.

"I was much better just seconds ago," she corrects, dropping the hand she realizes too late is still cupping her abdomen. "Until…"

"Until?" he questions, coming to sit beside her on the bed. He smells good-like fresh air and new leather, scents that don't bother either her head or her stomach, thank God.

"Until I started thinking about what a shit mum I'll probably be."

He chuckles as he takes her hand within his, stroking her skin with his thumb.

"If you are pregnant, I'd say that's the hormones talking."

"And if I'm not?"

He looks right at her then before leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Then it's just your overwhelming sense of optimism showing itself again." She elbows him without force, unable to keep from grinning. "Trust me, love," he continues. "Any children we have will be the luckiest kids in the world to have you as a mum."

"Now who's lying?" she quips.

"There's that optimism again," he grins. "And I'm not lying-not by a longshot. If you remember, when we first met, I promised that I wouldn't lie to you, and I meant it."

She looks at him and sighs.

"And you honestly don't regret it?"

"What?" he questions. "Being honest with you?"

"No," she replies. "Being with me."

He stares at her as if she's just spoken Swahili.

"Mary," he begins, turning on the bed until he's facing her fully. "I've done many things that I do regret in this life, as you well know. But I can assure you that making you a part of my life is one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Tears come out of nowhere, and she wipes her cheek, trying to best to stifle their journey.

"I don't think anyone's ever called me their best decision," she says, swallowing down a sob.

"All the better for me," he returns, reaching out to cup her cheek with his palm. "Less competition, more time for this." He kisses her then, a soft touch that borders on a whisper, and she closes her eyes, soaking it in, letting it fill her in ways only he can. "Are you up for going down for dinner? If not, I can always ask for a tray to be sent up."

"I'm fine," she insists, standing up slowly so as to not rock the proverbial boat. "Truly."

He looks unconvinced but wisely says nothing as she wipes her face.

"Perhaps the food will do you good," Charles muses as she stifles a sniff. "Pregnant or not."

She pauses, gazing directly at him.

"Do you have a preference? As to whether or not I'm pregnant?"

The question hangs between them as he stands to take her hand.

"I prefer having you in my life," he answers, his tone so genuine it melts something inside her. "Whether or not we're expecting a baby won't change that, Mary. I'm not with you because you could be pregnant, nor will I be in the least bit upset if you're not and I get to keep you to myself for a longer period of time. I'm with you because I want to be, because I love you."

Shit. She's going to cry again.

He holds her through it, stroking her hair, kissing her temple, murmuring reassurances into her pores that wash over her like a warm shower. In the end, they're lying down again, wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled, bodies connected in a manner she's loathe to break.

"If we're going to make dinner, we'd best get up," he finally states.

"Then let's do it," she states, hoping to God her eyes aren't as red as a poppy.

Getting ready is a rushed affair, and she's convinced her face still looks splotchy, regardless of his assurances otherwise. But she won't be late, not when she's here in a professional capacity, so she lets him help her down the stairs, noting that creating accessible rooms for guests will top the list of recommendations she gives to Tony and June. They turn the corner towards the foyer where they've all agreed to assemble, and she breathes in deeply in an attempt to settle her mind and stomach before facing their dinner companions.

"Oh my God."

A familiar voice catches her attention, and Mary turns to see one very startled female staring at her and Charles open-mouthed.

"Lu?" Charles mutters, gaping back at his sister. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Mary blinks repeatedly, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Charles's sister is standing just in front of her.

"We were invited," Lucy answers, taking a step towards them as the man Mary assumes is Lucy's husband takes in the entire situation with curiosity. "Rob and Tony are old friends from their uni days. How do you know Tony and June?"

"Through Mary," Charles answers, leaning in to give Lu a kiss on the cheek. "The Gillinghams have asked her to help them convert their estate over into a bed and breakfast. I just tagged along for entertainment value."

"If you're the entertainment, I want my money back," Rob quips as he reaches out to shake Charles's hand.

"Rob, let me introduce you to my girlfriend Mary," Charles says, tossing the other man a playful glare. "Mary, this is my oaf of a brother-in-law, Rob Maguire."

Mary shakes his hand, watching the man's blue eyes crease into a smile. The streaks of silver in his fair hair and trim beard only make him more attractive, and she wonders not for the first time at how gray hair seems to compliment men and aggravate women.

"Mary," Rob returns. "So nice to finally meet you. You're rather famous among the Blake family, I must tell you."

The Irish lilt in his voice compliments his easy smile, but he's watching her a bit too intently, as if he's trying to figure her out. If he's a friend of Tony's, he might well know about their past, and this isn't something she wants to deal with, not when she feels like shit. But she inhales sharply and forces herself to smile, hoping to God she looks better than she feels.

"That's somewhat frightening," Mary quips as Lucy shrugs. "And it's lovely to meet you, too, Rob."

"Sharon is going to be livid that Rob got to meet you before she has," Lucy smiles. "She's already more than a little miffed that Charles hasn't driven you up to her place to meet the family and the newest baby."

"Travelling hasn't been easy with Mary's knee," Charles points out. "This is our first trek out of London since she was injured."

"I'm glad to see that you're doing better," Rob remarks. "And I promise not to lord the fact that I met you first over Sharon too terribly much."

"You won't have to," Lucy says. "The mere mention of it will send her into a frenzy."

"Then may I suggest that you refrain from texting her about it until after she puts the children to bed," Charles states. "At least give her a little peace before you upset her apple cart."

"With three boys, do you honestly think her apple cart is still standing?" Lucy quips, tossing Charles a half-smile so much like his that it catches Mary off-guard. Her mind drifts for a moment to new babies, to the possibility of her own baby-would he look like Charles and Lucy, or would she resemble Mary? Could she possibly inherit Cora's blue eyes, or would his eyes be nearly black like the two Blake siblings standing in front of her now.

"So Tony hired you?" Rob asks. The words startle her, pulling her out of her musings and back into the present. She shakes her head and smiles at the man.

"Yes,," Mary replies, getting the word out just before Lucy pulls her into hug. The sudden motion doesn't set off any nausea, but Lucy pulls back quickly when she feels Mary wince.

"Your knee," Lucy says. "I'm so sorry, Mary. It's still bothering you, then?"

"She's making remarkable progress, but she's still having some pain," Charles states, prompting his sister to look back at Mary in concern.

"Then I'll tell Tony that we need to find you a chair," Rob says, heading towards their host before Mary has the chance to stop him.

"I'm fine, really," Mary protests.

"She's not," Charles counters, tossing her a brow to meet her scowl. "Although she's likely to skin you alive if you mention this fact to our hosts."

Lucy presses her lips together and nods.

"I understand," Lucy says. "And I'll say nothing more to Tony. But you have to keep in mind that Rob and I are both doctors, so you should expect some hovering this weekend."

"Trust me," Mary returns. "Your brother hovers enough for ten people."

Charles's shrug is unconvincing.

"Mum would be proud," Lucy observes, tossing her brother a grin. "Oh God, wait until I tell her that you and Mary are here at the same time that we are!"

"Don't you dare," Charles insists. "At least not until this weekend is over. We don't want to wake up tomorrow to find her camped out on the Gillingham's doorstep."

"Fair point. Knowing mum, she might do just that," Lucy replies as Tony and Rob walk in their direction. Mary's stomach sinks to her knees at the look of utter concern on her former lover's face.

"Mary," Tony begins. "Why didn't you tell me that you're unwell? We could have rescheduled for a more suitable weekend."

"Because I'm not unwell," Mary insists. "It's just that I sprained my knee several weeks ago, and it's not yet fully recovered."

"Then we'll go through to the dining room at once," Tony insists, turning to give a nod to his sister. "Perhaps some food and wine will be helpful."

"Thank you," Mary returns, feeling a bit like a sack of flour as Rob moves to her right side and he and Charles practically carry her into the dining room. "I can walk, you know."

"Why walk when you have your own personal chariot?" Charles asks.

"So you all know each other?" Tony asks, tossing Mary a quizzical gaze over his shoulder. "What a coincidence."

"Charles is my brother-in-law," Rob explains as he pauses to help Mary into her seat. "I've only just met Mary, although I've heard nothing but raves about her from Lu and her mum."

"Have you been together long?" Tony asks. His brown eyes bore into Mary's, revealing old insecurities she'd rather not see.

"A few months," Charles replies, clasping her shoulders in a gentle yet possessive manner. "Best months of my life by far."

The two men stare at each other for charged second before Tony steps back and smiles.

"Mary's extraordinary," he states. "You're a lucky man, Charles."

"Don't I know it," Charles agrees. He doesn't sit down until Tony moves to his seat, and Mary releases a breath she didn't realize she's been holding.

"Merely a fuck buddy, you said?" he whispers, smiling and nodding as everyone else claims their seats.

"For my part," she replies. "He actually proposed a few times."

A coughing fit catches him out of nowhere. He grabs his water glass and manages a sip as Lucy casts him a quizzical glance from across the table.

"No wonder he was looking at me like he'd like to challenge me to a duel," Charles finally manages. He blinks repeatedly and clears his throat as Mary pats him on the back.

"Don't be ridiculous. It was a long time ago."

She takes a drink of water herself, wishing for something stronger, knowing she needs to avoid alcohol until she knows one way or another if she's pregnant or not. God, what ridiculous timing.

"Tell that to him," Charles whispers. Mary casts a glance at their host and catches him blatantly gazing at her. At least he has the good manners to look embarrassed when their eyes meet before redirecting his attention towards an all too eager Ruby.

"I did," Mary breathes. "I turned him down flat each and every time and threatened him with a restraining order if he didn't stop asking." She closes her eyes as bowls of carrot soup are set before them, thankful that the aroma is soothing and bright rather than hearty. The scent of ginger tickles her nose, helping her stomach to settle as she indulges in another sip of water.

"Just how many times did he propose to you?"

Her brow creases as Lucy catches her eye from across the table.

"Five or six," Mary replies, hearing Charles spoon clatter back on to the table. What a weekend it was turning out to be.

She makes it through the first two courses without incident, her confidence growing as her stomach relishes its new contents. The food is exquisite, and she notices that June finally seems to be relaxing as she watches everyone enjoying their meals.

"I'm glad to see you eating," Charles muses. "I was half-afraid I was going to have to force feed you."

"That's a rather dangerous proposition," she mutters. "Especially when I have utensils in my hand."

"Should I cross my legs if it comes to that, then?" he questions. "To protect the crown jewels?"

"I think it's a bit late to be discussing protection now," she muses. He chuckles as she takes another bite, savoring the cool bite of greens in her mouth. "Don't you?"

"At least for the time being," he agrees, taking a sip of his wine, catching his sister's eye from across the table. Lucy was watching them a bit too closely, Mary thinks, making her wonder if the woman is aware of her past with Tony. That's all she needs-Charles's family becoming privy to the sordid details of her past dating life before she's ready to share them.

"Do I have something in my teeth?" she asks, feeling more than a little self-conscious.

"No," Charles answers. "Why?"

"Because Lucy keeps looking at me."

Charles tosses a pointed glare towards his sister, obviously encouraging her to mind her own business before leaning directly into Mary's ear.

"I love Lu, but she can be nosy as hell," he says. "Just like mum." She hears his sharp intake of breath just as she refuses the next offered glass of wine.

"What?"

"The wine," he whispers. "God, I'll bet she's noticed that you're not drinking any wine."

Mary's brain catches up quickly, prompting her to look at him directly.

"Do you think she suspects anything?"

"She's a doctor," Charles replies. "And a damn good one, unfortunately for us."

Mary sits back in her chair, inhaling slowly, trying to keep everything in perspective. There's no way in hell she wants anyone else even aware of her possible pregnancy, not now, not when she's not even certain of it herself.

Especially not Charles's sister.

"Suspicions aren't facts," Mary states. "We can tell her I'm not drinking because of the pain medication I'm still taking for my knee."

"Not bad," Charles says with a nod. "That should at least keep her at bay until the two of us know for certain."

Her stomach tingles, and her hand glides to her abdomen self-consciously.

"It's a plan, then," Mary breathes, taking a final bite of her salad as he gives her good leg a gentle squeeze.

It's then that everything goes to hell.

"So Tony, how is it that you know Mary again?"

Rob's question freezes her fork on its way to her mouth, and she tosses a look in Tony's direction, hoping he'll be discreet.

"We're old friends," Tony replies, catching her gaze, his lips pressing together in a tight line.

"You've already said that," Rob says. "How did you meet?"

"We met through a mutual friend one night at a dinner party," Mary cuts in, doing her best to sound nonchalant. Rob nods, apparently satisfied with her answer, and she reaches for her wine before she thinks better of it and grabs her water instead.

"I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the room and decided I had to know who she was," Tony adds, stilling Mary's hand on its way to her mouth. "The rest is history."

"You're exaggerating," Mary states, sipping her water slowly.

"Not at all," Tony returns. "You were and are one of the most beautiful women I've ever met, Mary. Time hasn't altered that fact in the slightest."

He' trying to be charming, but his words do nothing but rattle nerves already frazzled and worn. Rob's staring at her quizzically then, and they make eye contact for two seconds too long.

"Oh my God," Rob mutters as his eyes light up. "She's the Mary who broke your heart, isn't she? The one who kept turning down your proposals!"

A collective hush hovers over the table as Charles sits up taller in his seat. His body is tense, but his expression is smooth as his arm slides around her shoulders in a possessive gesture.

"It's history, Rob, and one I daresay neither Mary nor Tony would care to discuss at the dinner table," Charles states. Lucy fires her husband a glance that could kill, making the man lean forward at once.

"God, I'm sorry," Rob states. "I spoke before I thought. Forgive me, Mary."

She wants to speak, but her tongue feels numb, her fingers frozen, her mind at a standstill. Just then, the scent of Beef Wellington assails her, conjuring a wave of sickness that tightens her throat and makes her mouth salivate. Cold sweat beads across her forehead, and she clasps onto the edge of the table, closing her eyes as she fights the urge to vomit with everything she has.

"Mary-what's wrong?"

It's Lucy's voice she hears, followed by expletives from Charles as he turns in his seat and reaches his arm around her immediately. She's hoisted out of her seat and surrounded before she realizes what's happening.

"I need some air," she manages as Charles gathers her up in his arms and makes his way towards the front door. Rob has it open for him, and they're outside then, the scents of nature and evening tickling her skin and allowing her to breathe for a few blessed seconds before the first three courses begin to push their way out of her body.

"Put me down," she hisses, and Charles does just that, giving her just enough time to stumble towards the nearest bush before her stomach empties its contents. She feels his arms come around her, keeping her upright, rubbing her back, holding back her hair as she puts on a show that nobody expected to see.

"Better?"

His question caresses her, and she inhales before she nods, thankful for the breeze against her neck. Another set of gentle hands clasp onto her arms, and she raises her head to see Lucy staring straight into her.

"Mary," she begins. "How far along are you?"

Mary swallows at Lucy's whispered question, raising herself up slowly until she's standing as upright as she can manage without getting sick again.

"I-," Mary begins, pausing to swallow and catch her breath.

"You are pregnant, aren't you?" Lucy continues, keeping her voice down so only the three of them are privy to their conversation.

"What makes you think that?" Charles cuts in.

"Well," Lucy begins. "She's as pale as a ghost, she didn't touch her wine at the table, and the smell of meat just made her ill. I'm a doctor, Charles. I'm fairly certain I know what this is." She pauses then, looking back at Mary, her tone gentle. "It's all right, Mary. I just want to help."

"We don't even know for certain, Lu" Charles states as Mary feels the fight drain out of her. She leans into him, allowing him to hold her up, wishing to God that her knee will continue to cooperate. "It's too early."

"I'm not so sure about that," Rob cuts in, moving to stand beside his wife. Mary looks over her shoulder, trying to make certain that nobody else has overheard what's being discussed. "Pregnancy can be detected fairly early these days. Are you at all late, Mary?"

"As if she's going to tell you after you just embarrassed the hell out of her," Lucy hisses, sending her husband a death glare. Rob takes a step back and has the grace to look ashamed.

"I'm so sorry," he says, looking at both Charles and Mary. "That wasn't my intention at all. Truly."

"I know, Rob," Charles states. "We can talk about this later. Right now I just want to get Mary comfortable and off of her feet."

"Can I please just sit down somewhere?"

Her question comes out harsher than she'd intended, but it has the desired effect as a chair seemingly appears out of nowhere, allowing her to sit. She sighs and closes her eyes, blocking out Tony, Rob and Ruby, blocking out everything and everyone for a few blessed seconds as the wind caresses her skin.

"Is she going to be alright? Shall I get her some water?"

It's Tony who's asked, and Mary opens her eyes and watches as Lucy nods.

"And some crackers if you have them," Lucy adds as Tony dashes back inside. "They might help settle her stomach."

Ruby steps forward, laying a hand on Mary's shoulder as she bends over at the waist.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ruby whispers. "I would have packed some saltines in my purse for you. I did that for my best friend back home for months when she was pregnant." She then leans down and hugs Mary, squelshing the words trying to come out of her mouth.

"Ruby," Mary finally manages. "I-I'm not sure…"

"Well I am," Ruby interrupts. "I've been suspicious since you made me stop burning my scented candles in the office last week and turned down pho for lunch twice."

Words fail her then, and she just sits there, breathing in and out, wishing everyone would just disappear and she left alone with the night air. Ruby then shiftss her attention to Charles, startling him by throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him with enthusiasm.

"Congratulations," she murmurs when she pulls back. "You'd better take good care of her-you hear me?" Then the brunette turns and heads back into the house before either of them can get a word in edgewise.

"Do you think she suspects anything?" Charles mutters, watching in concern as Mary's form seems to crumple up inside herself. "Christ, are you all right?"

"I'm not sure," she replies honestly. Everything hits her then-the fact that she's probably pregnant, the fact that her lover's family and her assistant are now well aware of this fact which means the Gillinghams will be, as well, the fact that she's supposed to be here to further her business and her career, not to be an item on display for an evening's entertainment. Anger and fear begin a disjointed tango through her insides, something Charles seems to sense immediately.

"Get everyone out of here, Lu. Please."

Lucy looks at Mary a split second before nodding and taking Rob's hand, practically dragging him behind her. She says something Mary can't quite make out with all the blood pounding in her ears, but she doesn't really care as long as everyone leaves her alone. She watches as June and Rob make their way inside just as Tony comes back with the water and crackers, handing them off to Lucy who presses them gently into Mary's hands.

"These should help," Lucy states, kneeling down so she's eye to eye with Mary. "You need to replenish your fluids more than anything right now, so drink slowly. If it's alright with you, I'll check in on you later."

Mary swallows and nods, unable to keep a lone tear inside that tickles her cheek on its way down. Lucy squeezes her shoulder gently after standing upright.

"It's going to be alright, Mary," the other woman assures her. "Although I'm sure it's a bit overwhelming right now."

"It is," Mary agrees, wiping her cheek as Charles wraps his arm around her body. Lucy nods and squeezes her brother's should before turning to go back inside, leaving Mary with Charles who has also somehow been been provided a chair. She wishes she could think, could process everything that's just happened, but her mind seems to have been reduced to some sort of disjointed puzzle she can't put together to save her life.

"God, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and breathes in slowly.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Getting you pregnant is," he states. "Or very likely pregnant, at the very least."

She leans against him, closing her eyes as another breeze feathers across her cheek.

"We both did that, Charles," she says. "If we are pregnant, I mean."

She knows it then, as sure as she knows her own name. She's only had symptoms like this one other time in her life, but then she had no arms wrapped around her in support. No, she'd been alone then, alone and sitting on the kitchen floor of her flat as she'd stared in shock at a plus sign on a stick she'd held in trembling hands. She'd cried then, too, just as she'd cried when she'd cramped and started bleeding a few weeks later, grieving a hidden life only she'd known had ever existed.

"I want this baby."

The words leave her before she even realizes they've formed, but they hover in the evening air like a pair of intertwined moths.

"So do I," he says, kissing her cheek with utmost tenderness. She smiles then as more tears start to fall, and he gets out of his chair to kneel down on one knee in front of her, taking her hands within his own, placing kisses on both of her palms. "God, I'm thrilled and terrified at the same time."

She nods. "So am I." Their foreheads touch as noses slide against each other. "If it turns out that I'm not pregnant, I'm actually going to be disappointed now." Her own statement surprises her, even as its truth warms her chest.

"Shhh," he breathes. "If you're not, we'll just have an excuse to try harder."

"But we weren't even trying," she murmurs, actually eliciting a chuckle from him. He releases her hands so he can cup both sides of her face, his dimples on full display.

"Shows just how talented we are," he quips as this thumbs trace the corners of her lips, and she laughs, feeling freer than she has in weeks.

"Is there anything I say that doesn't inflate your ego?" she questions, leaning into his palm.

"Not that I've found," he replies before leaning forward and kissing her fully. Her arms snake around him, then he's standing and lifting her up, pulling her off her feet and kissing her like mad for a breathless moment. It is alright, she realizes, this crazy, uncertain situation they've created, this child they've more than likely made, this life they're building together one unexpected moment at a time. He sets her down gently, grinning madly at the smile he's managed to draw out of her.

"God, you are a hopeless romantic," she notes, prompting him to take her hand and draw it to his lips. She touches his face and smiles, opening her mouth to say more when they both hear a shriek and turn towards the front door. Ruby's standing there, her mouth agape, her hands framing her mouth, her motion suspended in time for a fleeting second before she squeals and dashes towards them.

"Oh my God!" the brunette squeaks, turning back towards the others who are now following her outside in concern. "You all just missed it!"

"Missed what?" Tony questions, looking from Ruby to Mary and Charles in the same utter confusion she feels.

"The proposal!" Ruby exclaims. Mary's eyes widen as Charles mutters something she can't quite make out under his breath. "These two just got engaged!"