rightly | open post.

"That would be lovely. I don't have my bathing costume anyway, so we cannot swim." Once they were seated, Mary turned to him and gave him a soft kiss. "You have quite the adventurous day planned for us. You're going to tire me out by the afternoon."

It really was more than she did in a typical day. Mary was enjoying herself though. Any time spent with Steve with wonderful, and she was so glad that her grandmother hadn't protested much about this outing. Perhaps she knew that fighting it was a lost cause, since he and Mary were engaged. Martha had been at least happy to hear that he was serious about her and intended to marry her.

"It's alright. The beach here is too crowded for swimming, anyway." He put an arm around her, returning that soft kiss. His brow quirked up in amusement at her last words. "I should hope I don't tire you out too much," he winked, but then added promptly. "I was planning on cooking dinner for you."

Provided he could get away with keeping Mary that long. Usually it was fine, but he didn't want to assume. She might have promised to be home for dinner, and he wouldn't want to upset her family by making her cancel or not show up.

"Oh," she grinned. "That sounds lovely too." Especially the part about being alone with him in his flat. "You cook?" That seemed unusual to her, even if most of the famous chefs were men. Most often women were cooks. Downton had always had a female cook for as long as she could remember.

The car started to move and they slowly made their way into the air. Mary knew that she was probably supposed to look out at the view around them, but her gaze was caught on the beautiful ring on her finger. She smiled at the way it glinted in the sun.

"I do. Well, nothing too complex or spectacular, but I can cook, and I like to," he smiled at her. "I guess you can be the judge of my abilities later today." It had been a while since he had cooked for anyone like this, but he felt fairly confident he could manage something decent and tasty.

Free hand reaching for hers, he ran his thumb across the ring on her finger, then he lifted it up to kiss her knuckles. "We'll never get to enjoy the view like this." She kept looking at her ring, and he kept looking at her.

"I look forward to it," she replied, interested to see what he would make for them. She knew it wouldn't be like dinners at Downton, but in her months in New York she had come to enjoy her casual dinners with Steve most of all.

Mary turned her gaze up from the ring towards his face. "I think I'm rather enjoying this view," she said quietly before pressing her lips to his.

His lips curled into a wider smile just as he pressed them to hers, returning the kiss. He tipped his head a little and parted his mouth just so, though he didn't aim to deepen the contact, especially here of all places. His hand cupped her jaw, sliding down to her neck, and eventually he pulled away with a few reluctant pecks, unwilling to put too much distance between them.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a bit of the view, as they rose higher on the wheel. "Look," he muttered, turning his head to the side finally to get a proper look at the view. They could see the parks and all the attractions, the people moving around on the ground below them, the beach crowded with people all over the sand and in the water. Farther beyond it, there were a few buildings and houses, though not much more than that from where they stood.

She hated to part her lips from his, though she was conscious of the fact that they were in public and needed to behave accordingly. Thus, she let him pull away, even if it was only just a bit.

Mary looked out to where he pointed, to the beach and carnival rides on one side and below them, to the buildings on the other. As they rose higher in the air, other bigger buildings in the distance came into view. "There's the city," she said with a smile, "and the Woolworth building." The tallest building in the world was in New York, not London. Mary hoped they might be able to overtake it soon.

Well, for as long as the ride lasted, they should be fine. It was easy to stay away from prying eyes when they were several feet off the ground, and Steve was sure that no one could actually see them kissing from down on the ground, not to mention that no one should be looking up at them anyway.

"Very good," he hummed, teasing her a little. "Change the accent, and you could almost pass for a New Yorker."

Mary glanced back at him. “I’ll pass on being a New Yorker, even if I do like the city very much.” It was probably her second favorite large city after London. She reached over and took his hand. “When you were in the war, did you get a chance to visit Paris?” Mary enjoyed Paris, though her French wasn’t very good, and Parisians didn’t seem fond of speaking English.

Steve chuckled at that, shaking his head. "I thought as much. But I was just teasing, you know." He rather liked Mary's accent anyway. He liked everything about her, actually, and he wouldn't want any of it changed.

His smile faded a little at her question, and he lifted a shoulder. "Well, I went to Paris. Can't say I visited much of it, sadly." He wasn't there as a tourist after all, and despite having been to a lot of places during the war, he never really enjoyed any of them. He never got to— Downton had been perhaps the only exception, and only because of Mary.

She knew he was teasing, of course. With a smile, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it.

His face always seemed to fall when he talked about the war, and Mary supposed that she couldn’t blame him. From what she had heard of it, it sounded horrible. Still, Mary was curious about what exactly Steve’s role had been in the war. She debated if now was an appropriate time to ask him about it.

“Perhaps when we’re back in Europe we can visit Paris as tourists,” she said.

He smiled warmly at her words, nodding softly. "I'd like that very much. I'd like to visit a lot of places with you, actually." Paris would be a good start, though. Close enough too, so it wasn't too big a stretch for them. "Oh, and we do need to decide on a place to go for our honeymoon."

“Yes we do,” Mary said with a smile. That was a more pleasant thing to think about for the time being. “Do you have any ideas or suggestions? I might like Italy or the French countryside, or we could go to Ireland or out to the English coast.” They had a lot of options.

"Italy sounds nice," he answered promptly. "But we can think of a more specific destination later. There's no rush." Even if Steve felt all but ready for it as it was, he tried not to get too impatient. They'd have plenty of time and their whole lives to enjoy all sorts of things together. "Can you speak any languages other than English?"

"A bit of French," Mary replied, "but I was never any good at it. Sybil always got the best marks in French." Foreign languages didn't come easily to her. Math was a cinch, but words could be confusing, especially in another language. "What about you?"

"I know French. German, too, and some Polish. I can manage a bit of Spanish and Italian, but not all that much." It was a lot to know, he was well aware, particularly for an American soldier, which was why he went on to explain. "Most of it had to do with the work I did, during the war. I'm just lucky languages are easy for me to learn. I've never had much trouble picking up new ones."

"Really?" Mary asked, surprised. "That's quite impressive."

They reached the top of the Ferris wheel and stopped so that passengers below could be let off. She gazed around at the scenery again. There was something quiet and private about being up this high, where nobody could hear them.

"Steve..." she said quietly. "Will you ever be able to tell me what work you did in the war? If we're to be married, I would like to know."

Steve fell quiet for a moment, knowing the question would come even before Mary asked it. Technically speaking, he knew he shouldn't tell her, not even when they were married... but he also hated keeping that part of his life hidden from her, regardless of it being in his past, and having nothing to do with Mary or his relationship with her.

It really didn't matter much now in any case, did it? Besides, it wasn't as though Mary was going to go around telling people. It would be something she'd keep to herself, of that much he was absolutely sure.

"Then I'll tell you," he dipped his head with a faint nod, looking at her. His voice was quiet, even if he knew no one could hear them this high up. "I'm a spy. Well... I was a spy. During the war. That's what I did."

Whatever Mary was expecting to hear, it wasn't that. She was floored, and stayed speechless for another moment before speaking again. "A spy?" she questioned. "Steve... that must have been so dangerous."

It made sense now why he didn't think he would survive the war. Mary clung to his hand, holding it tightly to her chest. The thought of him being hurt was painful to her.

"Well, it..." he started, intent on putting her mind to rest, but stopped when he realized he'd just be lying to her. "It was, yes. Sometimes. But I was damn good at it, too."

For once, being a good liar served him well. Granted, he was only ever a convincing liar under the right circumstances, but still. He shrugged, smiling as he moved his hand to cup her cheek. "It doesn't matter now. The war is over, and so is... all that. What I did."

“Are you...?” Mary searched his eyes. “I mean... the man I love... that is who you are, isn’t it?” It was kind of a silly question built on the shock of his confession. She trusted Steve, but for a moment she was panicking, wondering if he was in spy mode around her. That was ridiculous of course. Why would he tell her that he was a spy if he was spying on her?

Her question drew a short laugh from him, an eyebrow raising in surprise. "Mary, of course! What sort of question is that? Did you really think I'm lying to you right now, that I've been... I don't know, lying to you this whole time?"

Frankly, Steve couldn't even think of a reason why he would spy on Mary, but even if there were a reason, it was beside the point. He had never been anything but honest with her and around her, and it hadn't once crossed his mind that she might've doubted that once he told her the truth. Maybe he should have.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It was simply so shocking. I never expected you to tell me that.” Mary turned her head and kissed his hand. “I should like to think I can tell when I’m being lied to, and I have never felt that way with you. I love you... and I can’t imagine how dangerous your job was.” It hurt her to hear about it even now.

"I never lied to you, Mary. Not about anything." The things he couldn't tell her, he simply hadn't, but he had never lied about them. He certainly had never lied about how he felt about her, or how badly he wanted to build a life and a family with her.

"What matters is that I am here now. Alive and well. And in one piece, thankfully," he huffed a bit, leaning in to kiss her on the lips. "Please... I'm glad I got to tell you the truth, but I don't want this to change anything between us."

Mary rested her forehead against his, their noses touching. “It doesn’t. The way you treat me has always been so genuine, your love so pure. I’ve always felt it, even when you couldn’t tell me what mission you were working on.”

Their car started to move again, but Mary stayed where she was, close to him with their faces together. “Kiss me again,” she whispered.

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