A/N: First, an apology. I have drafted an ending to Bad Beginning but I'm not entirely happy with it, and...this idea came to me and I had to get it out of my system.

Cora and Carlisle...! I think this pairing is interesting...and credible. Most of the fic is already written in draft form, so I should be able to update it fairly regularly!

"Sir Richard?"

He hears the same questioning tone at every ball and dinner - the tone which makes it clear that he doesn't quite belong. No, he wasn't born to inherited wealth, a stately home, an aristocratic title or any of the other myriad advantages bestowed on the upper tiers of society. He takes considerable pride that his powerful position is entirely a product of his own abilities and hard work.

And yet... still he yearns for acceptance. The title and stately home can easily be acquired through the right patronage and financial inducements. He is sure that he can eventually adopt the customs of the aristocracy. But to be truly accepted in this society, he needs something else - a family connection.

Lady Mary Crawley may just be the solution to this problem. He is attracted by the dark good looks and fierce intelligence, and intrigued by her cold reserve and her shrewd judgements. He sees a potential partner, maybe even a soul mate.

So he approaches her invitation to Downton Abbey with the same care and attention to detail he would any other important campaign.

First, the family. He scans through his secretary's report. Nothing of note - run-of-the-mill aristocrat, married to an American heiress (no surprise these days), the heir...third cousin! It must have taken quite a trawl through the family tree to pluck a middle-class solicitor from obscurity.

He closes the report in satisfaction. Nothing too alarming - or indeed interesting. Perfect.

"It's easy for your mother to invite Rosamund and Richard Carlisle for dinner, when she doesn't have to make the arrangements."

Cora joins her husband in bed, still fuming at her mother-in-law's latest interference.

"I'm sure you'll work it out," he murmurs, draping an arm across her and kissing her softly.

"I don't see how with no footmen and Mrs Patmore fretting about making wartime supplies stretch to a dinner party-"

He exhales loudly and closes his eyes. He knows these problems can be resolved easily and the dinner will go smoothly - it always does. Yet still he makes the effort to placate her:

"I'll talk to Carson. I'm afraid he will just need to accept maids in the dining room." He knows without looking that she's smiling at him. He feels her breathing slow down as his fingers trail lightly down her arm. "It will be nice to see Rosamund," he whispers. "And you're surely pleased Mary is inviting a suitor."

"Mmm." She finally settles against his chest. "I'd be more pleased if it was someone we knew."

"I don't think anyone's failed to hear of Richard Carlisle, my dear," he sighs wearily. As he drifts to sleep, he worries about the newspaper magnate. This dinner guest could prove a much bigger problem that a lack of footmen.