A/N: Back before they actually turned up on the show Bexy and I were rather taken with the notion that Lang would be Carlisle's valet and together they would be an insatiable, sexy duo. Sadly we were wrong. But we decided to write it after all! I should point out that therewas never any chance Carlisle was going to be with Mary in our world.

Lang shifted uncomfortably as he straightened his master's tie. He'd been all for their little plan when they'd first come to Downton - they'd done it before after all and it had always proved mutually satisfactory - but...well, then he'd seen the girl and he wasn't so keen anymore, but, well, it was something of a difficult topic to approach. How did anyone tell their master they weren't really up for seducing some boring, blonde housemaid who was sickeningly in love with a valet just so he could get into Lady Mary Crawley's knickers before abandoning her and ending their engagement and that he had another, altogether more promising plan?

He cleared his throat nervously. "Sir, I wondered if I might have a word with you about something."

Richard Carlisle straightened his suit jacket in the mirror, determined that no matter what the Crawley family thought he was going to look the part of a gentleman. He looked up to meet his valet and partner in crime's gaze in the mirror, smiling with confidence and superiority. He didn't feel superior to Lang of course, he was exactly the sort of valet he'd always wanted, but he doubted he was going to find anyone worth bothering with in this house.

"Certainly you can Lang, just make it quick. I have a dinner engagement after all."

"About this, about…"

Lang cleared his throat and shifted slightly on the spot. No matter how many times they did it, how many times they were successful and they had succeeded an alarming number of times, he still felt distinctly awkward discussing. Besides everything else, and how wrong it really was, Sir Richard was his employer and he couldn't imagine Mr. Bates having discussions like this with Lord Grantham!

"About our plan." He paused again, blushing and avoiding Carlisle's eyes. There was no easy way to say it so he would simply have to blurt it out. "I don't think we're going to be successful."

"Why on earth would you think that? We've never failed before have we?"

He mentally catalogued all the successful and most pleasurable visits they had made before, including the notable and rather scarring occasion then had visited the home of Lady Flintshire and been rather taken off guard by the aggression of her and her maid combined. Some things really did bind men together more than war ever could.

"Unless there's something about Lady Mary that you know and I don't? Has the girl, the maid, Anna isn't it, said something?"

"No, nothing like that," Lang answered quickly, gulping at the concern on Carlisle's face: he never liked it when his plans were foiled, but this one wasn't worth the trouble - Lady Mary wasn't worth the trouble - and not only that but didn't he deserve to have some say in who he was supposed to seduce? Not that he considered himself Carlisle's equal of course, whatever their arrangement he was still a servant, but his master had always taken his feelings into consideration before, like the time they'd tackled Lady Flintshire and her maid and Carlisle had told him if he was still terrified of Vera Flynn when the moment came, they could call the whole thing off.

"With all due respect, Sir...the maid is so devoted to Lord Grantham's valet I don't think it's worth the bother and as for Lady Mary," he swallowed lightly, "I think she's a little full of herself, sir."

Lang was undoubtedly right on the last score if no other. The little he had seen of Lady Mary Crawley had confirmed Lady Flintshire's insistence that she was a stuck-up and rather difficult to get a straight answer out of and despite his attempts to enter into the upper classes and speak their language he was a businessman at heart and he preferred straight-talk. Lang and Vera Flynn were his kind of people, but for the fact that he had money and they did not but he was a generous man and more than happy to spend his cash to enjoy his life. He had certainly spent enough to get into this house and he was damned if he was going to leave without something to show for it.

"So what would you suggest? I don't know about you but I don't fancy either of our chances with dear old Dowager."

Lang didn't rate their chances on that score either, even if he wanted to bed the Dowager Countess which he would really rather not. Apart from the fact she was ancient, she didn't seem to like either him very much, never mind his employer. She looked at both of them like they were dangerous and perhaps she was right: they did have rather suspect intentions after all. But he'd had a completely different woman in mind and he fiddled uncomfortably with his sleeve, clearing his throat - again.

"Not the Dowager...the Countess." He braved a glance in Carlisle's direction. "Lady Grantham."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows as he considered the possibility and had to admit that it was far from being unpleasant. In society he would have made every effort to keep his face inscrutable but he made no such effort around Lang and the hunger for the new prey was evident in his eyes rather quickly.

Yes…the Countess would be a great deal more satisfying than Lady Mary. She was considerably more pleasant for one thing, just as beautiful and other than a rumour about a Turk there was no guarantee that Lady Mary would even be obliging. Lord Grantham didn't look like he was up to too much though and the couple didn't look too devoted. He turned to Lang with interest.

"And how would that alter your prospects? I can't say I've seen Lady Grantham's maid."

Lang blushed slightly. Sir Richard might not have seen Lady Grantham's maid but he certainly had and he was considerably more interested in her than Lady Mary's maid, and a great deal more interested in Miss O'Brien than most of the other women that had come his way. She was smart and sharp and undeniably attractive and he had been rather hoping that his boss would change his mind and go for the mother instead, and it was hardly asking a lot. Lady Grantham was a great deal more attractive than her daughter and a hundred times more engaging, and the pair of them - O'Brien and her mistress - were an altogether more tantalising prospect.

"I have to admit, I'd rather her than Lady Mary's maid."

Carlisle considered this for a moment and kept his eyes on Lang's usually immobile face; his valet was a reserved man, which was rather useful for their purposes as it meant no one ever suspected him, and by extension Sir Richard, of anything too untoward, but he seemed to be fond of this lady's maid already.
Eventually he smiled with some fond amusement at the other man and reached out to clap his back with familiarity.

"In which case we'll change the plan. After you took on that housekeeper at Mrs Astor's for my sake I think I owe you one…and I must admit," he turned back to the mirror once more to straighten his tie and check he looked perfect. For a Countess, nothing else would do. "It's far from a sacrifice."

Lang very nearly sighed in relief.

The thought of having to attempt to seduce such a boring woman who was so blatantly in love with another man who was just as boring as her was enough to make him miserable and Sarah O'Brien was an infinitely better prospect. Maybe afterwards he could even take her out for a drink...or dinner! Sir Richard wouldn't be especially pleased if he called off their arrangement, but maybe he would understand, if it was for the right woman. The Countess was indeed no great sacrifice and he began to feel a great deal more anticipation about the whole thing, the sort of anticipation he didn't usually feel for any of the others. Especially not Mrs Astor's housekeeper.

"I think that it's for the best, although...we do have to alter everything now. I don't think Miss O'Brien is going to be quite as easy as Lady Flintshire suggested Miss Smith might be, and as for her ladyship...well, she's a Countess, isn't she? She'll have certain standards."

Carlisle wasn't too sure whether there was a soul inside the whole of Downton Abbey that truly did possess the mythical standards that the upper classes were supposed to. Lady Flintshire was a Marchioness, and the cousin of an Earl, and she'd been quick enough to throw off her negligee and jump into bed with him and he didn't think any the less of her for it! It was a capital quality in a woman and one that he hoped her cousin's wife emulated. On the other hand he had entered this house as someone's else's suitor which might cause trouble down the line.

"The rewards will be more satisfying if the chase is more stimulating my good man." He reached into his pocket for his cigarette case, holding it out to Lang with a small smile. "Take the case, tell her I never notice you taking it. Or is she not the sort that's easily impressed?"

Lang smiled slightly. Miss O'Brien took her job very seriously indeed - that much he knew already - and he doubted she would be impressed by theft! Even if she was that way inclined, a cigarette case was hardly impressive and he shook his head to decline the offer, but smiled in an attempt to communicate his gratitude. It was an odd arrangement of sorts, the relationship between himself and Carlisle, but he'd grown rather fond of his employer, and it would be a lie to say the arrangement didn't suit him immensely.

He supposed it wasn't the most moral of plans, but there was nothing wrong with it really. There was no force involved, no real deception, and the only people they were potentially hurting were the husbands and most of them didn't deserve the women they had somehow managed to marry: Lord Grantham certainly didn't appreciate his wife nearly enough for him to worry about the Earl's feelings.

"She's not. But thank you." He eyed the cigarette case with a flicker of amusement. "You should save it for Lady Grantham. It's a pretty thing - she might be impressed by it."

Ah, so Lady Grantham liked shiny things did she? That would certainly explain the apparent friendship with her sister-in-law that Sir Richard hadn't fully understood; he'd met Lady Rosamund in London of course, but didn't know her quite as well as he would have liked to – encouragingly for his future plans the rumours would have it that he was the only man in London that wasn't on intimate terms with Lady Rosamund – but she'd seemed far too ostentatious a friend for the demure Countess.

"In which case Lang, could you pick the gaudiest lapel pin and cufflinks from the bag please? If she likes pretty things we'll give them to her."

He smoothed his hair again and lit his cigarette, enjoying the rush of smoke into his lungs as he inhaled deeply.

"And what of yours? If she's not impressed by gold," he shook the case and slipped it back into his inside pocket. "Then what will she like? You'll let me know if I can be of any help won't you? There has been a shift in our tasks. Young maid and older ladies are less taxing than young ladies and middle-aged maids! I don't envy you."

"No, not gaudy," Lang corrected immediately.

He never liked to correct his employer, but they wouldn't get anywhere at all with Lady Grantham or Miss O'Brien if they got it wrong, and in less than five minutes he had already determined that 'gaudy' was completely the wrong way to go. Lady Grantham liked shiny things, yes, but she was a woman of taste, and the cigarette case was elegant enough for the Countess to be intrigued and ask her guest more questions, but gaudy pins and cufflinks would only convince Lady Grantham that Sir Richard wasn't worth the title that had been bestowed upon him.

"Lady Grantham is nothing like Lady Rothes," he pressed on, blushing slightly uncomfortably and busying himself smoothing a crease from Carlisle's jacket. "She wears demure colours, minimal make-up - she likes elegance, not opulence."

Miss O'Brien would be harder though. So far he knew nothing about her besides her commitment to her job and doing things properly.

Carlisle nodded at the advice and allowed his valet to pick something more appropriate from the collection than the ones he had decided upon. He was not above taking advice from Lang, he himself had only been socialising within a better society since his elevation and, despite his best efforts, he couldn't know everything. But Lang had been in service for years and had been gifted ample opportunity to observe and to learn how to read people immediately; Richard didn't think he was half bad at either thing but he bowed to the other man's greater skills.

"I doubt there's anyone out there that's quite like Lucy Rothes. I've never met a woman so riddled with contradictions although," he smirked and drew on his cigarette again. "I'm more than happy to do a thorough investigation into the ladies of Downton Abbey and if Lady Grantham and Miss O'Brien are to be our test subjects then I look forward to the experiment."

Andrew was rather looking forward to the experiment too, but he would have to get to know Miss O'Brien better first. Lady Grantham would be easy enough - she was lonely and Richard Carlisle was a charming, attractive man - but Miss O'Brien was a mystery. He couldn't remember another woman, Vera included, that had stumped him quite so utterly, but he was determined to get to know her. Part of him still longed for Lady Flintshire though and he blushed at the thought as he searched through his employer's collection of cufflinks - it had been foolish really, to hope for more and from a lady too, but he had never met a woman quite like her and, as intriguing as Miss O'Brien was, he didn't think she would measure up to her.

"These should work," Andrew muttered lightly, holding up a pair of cufflinks he thought should impress Lady Grantham. "Although I don't think you'll need them. I don't think I've seen Lord Grantham look at her once since we got here."

Resting his cigarette between his lips and feeling like a navy as he did so Richard offered his sleeves to his valet to attach the cufflinks. He had to admit he admired the man's taste, they were understated and spoke of elegance and he was ever so slightly amused to see that they were the same ones Lang had picked for his assault upon Lady Flintshire's senses. She'd been impressed but after a brief bunk-up with him, in which he now had it on good authority Vera had put his valet through his paces before they'd traded for the night. It was breaking with the usual tradition but Richard couldn't deny that the night had been considerably more enjoyably that way.

"Good for my purposes I suppose but I do pity the poor woman being left here when we move on."

He took the cigarette from his lips and tapped it into the nearest vase, knowing they would be far, far away before anyone noticed. He checked himself in the mirror one more time before spreading his arms and meeting Lang's eye.

"Will I do?"

Andrew did a final check, sweeping his eyes over the man in front of him and nodding his head in satisfaction. His job might be somewhat unconventional but he still preferred to do it properly.

"I'm sure her ladyship will think so."

He gave Carlisle a brief smile as he finished up with the cufflinks, stepping back and straightening his own jacket - he had to look his best too, after all, but he suspected the Countess would care more about physical appearance than her maid did. Lady Grantham had been bred to care about that sort of thing and Richard Carlisle wouldn't disappoint, but he had no bloody clue about Miss O'Brien: maybe Miss Smith would have been easier after all? Still, they'd managed to bed Lady Flintshire and Miss Flynn, so surely this would be simpler?

"I wouldn't worry too much about the Countess," he muttered, moving to tidy up the vanity table. "If there's one thing I know about Miss O'Brien, it's that she takes good care of her mistress. In fact, perhaps her ladyship is the key to getting closer to her maid?"

"Perhaps…" Richard stubbed out the cigarette and gave himself a final check, more reliant upon Lang's opinion than his own eyes when it came to these matters and stroking his jacket to absolute perfection. He was preparing himself for one of the most difficult and impromptu seductions that he had attempted so far and he had to admit that he was rather more relaxed than he had any right to be.

Cora Crawley was a beautiful woman, as were all the women he talked into bed, but she was also rather more aloof than the other women and he would be attempting this seduction under the eyes of her husband and whilst he was the temporary beau of her eldest daughter. Oh well…he never had shied away from a challenge.

"It's just a shame they're not going to be in the same place tonight for you to test your theory. Of course you could always spend the whole evening discussing Lady Grantham and see how far that gets you with Miss O'Brien?"

He smirked. The chances of a woman being particularly eager to talk about another woman positively were fairly thin but if anyone could make it work then it was his inscrutable valet.

Oddly enough, Andrew really did think that might work. He'd spoken with Sarah O'Brien for less than an hour but there were two things he was utterly sure of: she was good at her job and bloody proud of it, and she was completely devoted to her lady. And not just slightly devoted: Andrew got the feeling that there was nothing the woman wouldn't do for her Countess and he wondered what the maid would do if she found out her lady was about to be thoroughly seduced and then abandoned by her daughter's current beau.

He'd rather not think about that right now - he was already nervous enough about the whole endeavour, but they hadn't failed yet and Miss O'Brien was an attractive woman with needs and desires that had probably been repressed - that was usually the case with the maids - and he was...well, he was a man, and he at least had that to offer. He cleared his throat, forcing another smile and inclining his head.

"I'll do my best. You'd best go down, you'll be late to dinner and you don't want to get off to a bad start with her ladyship."