Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Not beta read, so all mistakes are mine. Set after season one. Please note that this fic contains consensual voyeurism and shades of D/s with a female domme. If that squicks you then you might want to turn back now...

~ LE VICE ANGLAISE ~

Anna sees it when he speaks about Agent Carter.

The way his voice drops, tone catching. The way he shifts his left hand- always his left hand- to pull slightly at some nonexistent crease in his cuff. He takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering up to hers then sliding away, something in them he doesn't want her to see-

She usually stops him. Takes his chin in her hand and turns his head towards her.

She usually orders him to repeat what he said, slowly, leaving nothing out.

She knows well what he wants, what he likes. Knows well how he needs her to behave.

But though Anna makes him look at her, and though she makes herself ignore his obvious discomfort, and though she punishes him if he refuses her, she cannot shake the tiny sense of relief his words bring.

Because he needs more than she can give him, she's always known this. Small, petite and unassuming, Anna Jarvis is far from the sort of woman who can take charge of a man, no matter how much she might want to do so for that man's sake. It's almost a source of shame to her, that she's not able to give her Edwin the things he desires, the things he likes. She's loved him since she was barely more than a girl and he only a young man and she wants to be everything he needs, no matter that he claims his "predilections," don't matter.

They're embarrassments, darling, he tells her. You shouldn't have to deal with my… proclivities.

But they do matter. They matter to her.

Anna loves her husband far too much to keep him from what would make him happy.

And so, eventually, she gathers her courage and she tracks this Agent Carter down.

They meet in an automat, something which surprises Anna.

Given Agent Carter's occupation she assumed their rendezvous would be in some out of the way parking lot or office, not a bright, well-lit room in downtown Manhattan.

Just goes to show how much she knows about spying, she thinks.

Carter is polite and slightly embarrassed as they shake hands, this being their first face to face meeting. She looks stunning in a blue suit and bright red high-heeled pumps, her hair piled under a small trilby. Her lips are a flawless crimson.

Small, mousy Anna Jarvis feels very unimpressive indeed, in this woman's presence.

If Carter notices her reaction then she gives no indication of it. "How do you do, Mrs. Jarvis?" she asks as she takes a seat, smoothing down her skirt.

Anna applauds her candour: At least she wants to start them off on the right footing.

"So you know Edwin's married," she answers quietly. "I wasn't sure if you did."

Carter blanches but nods.

"He speaks so much of you, it would be impossible not to notice," she says. "And he is very clear on that point- So clear that I'm rather surprised you consider there might be room for… misunderstanding, on my part."

Agent Carter shuffles a little in her seat, looks over the table at Anna and oh but those brown eyes are fierce.

For a moment, Anna sees what has her Edwin so entranced.

For a moment, Anna likes it.

"Your husband and I are not involved, Mrs. Jarvis," Carter is saying quietly. "He… Well, I'm sure you know him well enough to believe he wouldn't behave badly, no matter appearances-"

Anna raises a quieting hand. "I didn't think that," she says, unwilling to let her Edwin be insulted. "I have never thought that, knowing him as I do." A small, quiet smile bubbles out of her, despite her best intentions. "If he were the sort of man whose eye roved he would have had plenty of opportunity before now, given Mr. Stark's spectacular example." She and Carter both smile at that. "But…"

She takes a deep breath, tries to remember all the ways she found of summing up what she wants to say- to offer- and discovers she cannot remember a single one of them.

Agent Carter is looking at her expectantly, but not a word passes her lips.

It is incredibly uncomfortable.

After a moment Anna makes a decision, realises that she can't do this here, in a public space. She won't speak of her husband or his desires in front of all these people, where anyone can hear. She owes her darling Edwin better than that.

"Would you care to come to my house for some tea and scones?" she asks instead. "My husband made a fresh batch this morning for the new Mrs. Stark and I'd love you to try them."

Carter looks nonplussed but nods. "They're not poisoned, are they?" she quips and despite herself Anna smiles, shaking her head.

"No," she says. "They're not poisoned. Ed would never countenance such a thing."

For a moment it looks like Carter's going to refuse but then she relaxes and Anna sees it, what happens when this woman makes up her mind.

It's impressive, the focus. The passion.

"Then by all means, lead the way," Agent Carter says. "I haven't had a decent scone in ages."

Anna has to suppress a smile as they walk out of the automat, Agent Carter turning heads as they go.

The look on Edwin's face when his wife turns up with his former partner-in-crime is not promising.

In fact, he looks rather like he did that night he realised he'd left a drunk Ginger Rogers in the same apartment where Mr. Stark was currently romancing Lana Turner and Anna knew from bitter experience that that hadn't ended well.

But Edwin is too well-mannered, too competent a servant to let such matters become obvious, Anna knows this.

And so he sits Agent Carter down, sets out the tea things even as Anna fusses with a serving tray for the scones, setting out jam, cream and butter. Turning the pots and butter knives just so. She asks her husband idly how his day has been and pressing a kiss to his cheek to show that she is not angry with him.

Her affection merely seems to confuse him more though.

"Milk, and sugar Agent Carter?" Anna asks when the places are finally set for tea and Edwin is seated as far away from the Englishwoman as possible, his gaze kept warily on his wife.

Carter is obviously aware of the tension but is electing not to address it.

"Milk, please," she answers. "And please, call me Peggy." She glances at Edwin. "It seems only fitting, all things considered."

Anna nods. "Indeed it does." She too glances at her husband. "All things considered."

A silence once again descends, nobody present being quite sure what to say to that.

Again Anna's eyes go to her husband though and again she reminds herself that she is doing this for him, because he wants it. No, he needs it. No matter how much he might love her, Anna knows there are certain things she cannot do for him. And so she clears her throat, picks up her teacup and focuses on it.

These next words will be easier, if said to the steaming, teak-coloured brew.

"Agent Carter," she says. "Please do not think I am being insulting, or overly provocative, with what I am about to say to you."

From the corner of her eye she sees Peggy open her mouth to interrupt her, Edwin doing likewise, but she speaks on without a pause.

She has to get this out before she completely loses her nerve.

"I believe that you may be of service to my husband, Agent Carter," she says quietly. She sees both Edwin and Peggy's mouth close in almost comical unity but she speaks on before either can stop her. "You see, my husband is a very… singular man with a very singular set of, of tastes-"

Edwin has clearly guessed where she means to go at this point because he stands, his face turning a most alarming shade of scarlet, and tries to speak over her.

"Anna, darling," he says tightly, "we cannot involve a guest in marital matters-"

"She's already involved." Anna holds her ground, still staring at her tea. If she looks up at either of them, she'll be done for. "And if she's already involved- which she is, even if it's through no real fault of her own- then I think we ought to give her a chance to decide what form that involvement takes, don't you, darling?"

And she makes herself look up at him, slipping into Hungarian even as he stares at her.

Perhaps this will be easier said in the language in which they first fell in love.

"You want this," she murmurs softly, reaching out and taking his hand. "I can see how much you want this- how much you want her- even if you won't say it." She smiles as she says it, places her hand on his chest soothingly.

She wants so to have him to understand.

Edwin reaches out in answer and places his big, warm hand against her cheek. But he shakes his head stubbornly, because that's who he is. A stubborn man who can't bear to do anything he doesn't believe proper.

"It's not right," he says. "I love you. I married you. And when I did that I promised to forsake all others…"

Anna takes the hand at her cheek and presses a kiss to his palm, then his pulse. She can feel it hammering through her lips, there where they're placed against his wrist and she doesn't know whether it's worry or anticipation.

Maybe it's both.

"I can't give you what you need," she says quietly. "I'm not that sort of woman. I'm not- I'm too quiet. I'm too meek." She says the thing neither of them want to acknowledge. "And I don't enjoy your games, you know I don't."

Her gaze flicks to Peggy.

"But I believe she can. I believe she will. And I… I want you to have that, Eddy."

She pulls her lips away from his skin, looks up at him. His gaze is curious, tender. Worried.

He towers over her because she's still seated and it's impossible not to adore him, when he stares at her like that.

"I'm doing this because I love you," she says, switching back into English. "I'm doing this because I believe you need it darling, and that means I need it too."

And she turns to look at their guest, to explain, but Peggy's staring rather pointedly at the tea-set, her cheeks slightly rosy with embarrassment.

Anna makes to speak but she shakes her head. "I spent a great deal of time on the Eastern Front during the war," the Englishwoman says stiffly.

"Meaning," Edwin supplies, "that you speak quite a few languages." Peggy nods. "I assume one of those is Magyar?"

Peggy nods again. "Indeed it is." She looks at Anna. At Edwin.

Her gaze settles on the tea-tray and a what must be a particularly intriguing-looking scone. For a moment the silence is deafening. But then-

"What precisely do you think I could do to help your husband, Mrs. Jarvis?" she asks quietly, her gaze now fixed inside her own teacup.

The redness has yet to leave her cheeks.

Anna takes a deep breath and explains what arrangement she thinks would suit them all, and though he says he doesn't like it Edwin makes no attempt to interrupt.

They start off slowly. They negotiate.

What began with teacups moves onto wine glasses and eventually onto tumblers of scotch on the rocks, the liquid burning their throats at three in the morning.

Anna puts offers on the table, as does Peggy.

Edwin refuses to until Peggy tells him he must and then he follows his orders as meekly as a lamb.

There are hard rules they all insist on; Edwin insists his wife be present no matter what he's doing, Peggy insists his wife agrees with this and Anna insists they both take as much pleasure as they can out of it. As much pleasure as they need.

As it turns out, she meant it when she said that she wants her Edwin to have this; So long as it's her he comes home to, she doesn't care about the rest.

When she says those words something seems to flinch in Peggy's eyes but though the Hungarian woman is curious about what it is, she thinks it rather poor form to say. After all, everyone has lost someone to the war; there's no reason to assume Agent Carter is any different. She throws the briefest little glance at Edwin and she can tell that he too sees what she sees, but though he may have noticed Peggy's reaction he knows better than to ask.

So they sit and talk over tea about limits, about what Anna (and, indeed, Edwin) would consider infidelity. Anna explains that she has no issue with the use of lips, tongue or teeth so long as there are some things kept for the marital bed and both her husband and Peggy agree with this. Edwin, it turns out, is rather more enamoured of the idea of being ordered about by a strong, commanding woman than he is by the notion of having sex with her.

Intercourse- being inside another woman when he comes- seems to hold no interest for him and despite her bravado Anna is more relieved about that than she can say.

Peggy seems to find it odd, that he could be so divorced from the carnal possibilities this offer provides but to Anna it is no surprise, not really: Edwin is gentle as can be when he takes her to bed but he has never needed a woman to command him in that area. Were that necessary then he and Anna would never have married. No, what Edwin requires is a woman to tell him what to do, to enforce her will on him; He is a servant by nature, he does so like to be useful.

And a woman like Peggy Carter, not only used to command but hungry for it, would make a perfect mistress for him. A perfect foil.

When Anna points this out her husband licks him lips unconsciously, apparently unaware of his own eagerness until he sees both his wife and his prospective lover smile at him.

Instantly he turns red again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he tries to hide the evidence of his reaction. The rather obvious evidence of his reaction which, Anna notes, is currently tenting out the fabric of his trousers.

Interesting, she thinks.

They're all several hours into this discussion though, and with more than enough scotch running through her veins to make this seem like a good idea, Peggy stands. Orders Edwin to do likewise, her tone sharp.

He throws a slightly mortified glance at Anna but does as the other woman says, his head dropping down to stare at his feet as Peggy walks slowly around him.

She looks awfully predatory.

"Mr. Jarvis," she says, and her voice is whip-crack loud in the quiet. "What precisely do you have there?"

And she points directly at his crotch, her tone scornful.

It should make any man's ardour subside but if anything Edwin seems to get harder, the fabric stretching slightly, and Anna can't help the way her pulse jumps a little at the thought.

"I, I don't know what you mean, Peggy," he says, head still hanging.

Her ever-so-proper English husband doesn't want to say such crass words as cock or prick, Anna realises.

But she wants to hear him say them, she can't deny that she does.

Peggy's having none of Edwin's British reserve though. She steps in close, reaches out and takes a handful of his hair. Pulls. He's forced closer to her and he takes in a deep breath, in pain or pleasure or both Anna can't say.

Peggy's hand reaches down and takes his, pressing it against his crotch, his erection taut against his own flesh.

She moves his hand, forcing him to pleasure himself, his hips jerking ever so slightly against his hand.

"What," she says, "Is. That?" Her smile is smug. "Tell me now, Mr. Jarvis, or suffer the consequences."

His voice is hoarse. "What are the consequences?"

His hand hasn't moved from his cock though, and his hips still jerk a little, his breath coming in tight, quick pants.

Peggy's smile disappears, her eyes narrowing in apparent approbation.

Without warning she twists his hair harder, forcing him downwards and to his knees; She presses the heel of her shoe to the delicate flesh of his inner thigh and he lets out a small, sharp gasp. The movement of his hips doesn't slacken.

"Those are the consequences," she says sweetly. "At least those are their beginning."

And she steps away, removes her shoe from his body. Hunkers down until she and Edwin are eye to eye, her hand going back to pressing his own against his erection.

Anna swallows thickly, watching from where she sits.

It hadn't occurred to her, how much she might... enjoy watching this.

"Now, let's try that again," Peggy says, tightening her grip on his wrist, speeding up his pace. With the other hand she reaches around and slides her hand inside the waistband of his trousers, digs her nails into the flesh of his backside until he gasps.

"What's this?" she says. "What's this, Mr. Jarvis?"

"My- My-" Edwin's getting breathless, his hand moving faster now. His hips jerking hard and sharp, moving far more quickly than they ever do when they're pressing languorously against Anna and she can't help it, she can feel herself getting wet, feel her own arousal building.

She has always thought her husband beautiful like this, so near to finding his own bliss.

But Edwin's not there yet, he's gasping, shaking his head and muttering. It sounds really like he wants to start cursing but won't let himself begin. Peggy keeps up her assault, digging her nails into his skin, whispering viciously in his ear that she needs to hear him say it. She needs to hear him say what he wants, needs to hear him say what he's letting her do to him. Her hand has found it way to his fly and she's opened it, his hand disappearing inside the cloth to continue pleasuring himself as Anna watches.

"I want to hear you say it, Mr. Jarvis," Peggy is saying. "I want to hear you spit those filthy, beautiful words out for me. That's what I want and that's what you're going to give me. Now- What is that?"

And she twists his wrist sharply, his hands tightening against himself.

He gasps, mouth falling open, and then-

"My cock."

The words seem torn out of him, spit with more force than Anna thinks she's ever heard from him before.

As soon as they're said Peggy smiles and starts cooing to him, murmuring to him that she and Anna want to hear more.

"Say it, darling," Peggy's whispering. "Say those dirty words for Anna and I. Say them for your lady wife, my sweet, dirty boy…"

With a howl of frustration Edwin gives in, spewing forth a litany of the most lewd, filthy, arousing profanity Anna has ever heard from him. She knew he spent time in the army but she'd never heard him swear like a soldier before today.

As he mutters and hisses his fucks and pricks and Jesus Christs he comes, white spattering against his trousers with the force of his orgasm. He flops onto his back, spine arching, and Peggy wraps her arms around him as he comes. After a moment Anna joins her, faint and with shaking knees, on the floor.

All three of them end up tangled together, breathing hard, staring at one another, and Anna can't help it: She laughs breathlessly.

There's joy in it as she kisses her husband and pulls him out of his ruined clothes, Peggy by her side.

The next day they're sober at breakfast but neither Peggy, Edwin nor Anna are sorry.

In fact, all three of them vibrate with a sort of giddy delight.

When Howard Stark pops in with his new wife Maria- He heard from one of the other servants where Peggy was- he looks at the Jarvis family and their guest askance but says nothing.

Whether he guesses or not, Anna muses, is irrelevant.

Which sets a lovely precedent for the future, Mrs. Jarvis cannot help but think.