Hey again! It's been a while since I finished a chapter ahead of schedule rather than at least a week behind so enjoy, but don't expect it to happen too often! This one's a bit different from the others in that we get to see Rhett interact with some of his old acquaintances- apologies if that bit runs on too long for some of you, I got a load of info off Wikipedia and was determined to use it all! Also I did quote a conversation Rhett and Scarlett have from the book with a few changes, the direct quotes are in italics though and no copyright breach was intended, do let me know though if that's not acceptable, I'm not very clued up on such matters! Thanks for reading and as always please review.

'If you don't stop picking at that dress my dear then there will be nothing left of it by the time we arrive,' Rhett cautioned lightly, 'and while I for one would enjoy the ensuing spectacle, seeing as I sacrificed half the day helping you find it I would prefer if people actually got to see the damned thing.'

Scarlett scowled darkly at his words before reluctantly pulling her hands away from her dress and crossing her arms in front of her chest. The fact that she did not respond verbally to his teasing words though gave Rhett cause for concern. He had known that something wasn't quite right with his wife all evening, but the fact that she had just turned down a perfectly good opportunity to shout at him meant that something must be seriously wrong with her.

For a man who prided himself on knowing the inner workings of Scarlett O'Hara's head better than anyone else either living or dead- perhaps with the sole exception of Mammy- he disliked the fact that he did not understand the reason behind her agitated state. It had begun with their shopping excursion this morning, never before had he seen her take so long to choose a dress. Why, normally he had to forcefully restrain her from buying every outfit that she laid her greedy little eyes upon, fearful that even his considerably large bank balance would not hold out against his new bride's desire to own every piece of clothing in New Orleans.

Yet, though he outwardly discouraged her, inwardly Rhett found great joy in watching Scarlett shop, smiling at the way her eyes grew large and childlike as she took in the riches on display around her. He relished how excited she got when he purchased something for her, her hands clutching at his arm as she reached up to plant a kiss on his all-too-willing cheek. He knew it was petty, but in moments such as these the fact that he was considerably wealthier than her two previous husbands combined gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction. Realistically he knew that he could not buy her love of course, but with someone as vain and shallow as his beloved bride he could not help but hope that by giving her more things than Charles and Frank had been able to, he would somehow gain greater possession over Scarlett than either of them ever had.

Another thing he loved about taking Scarlett shopping was how predicable she was when it came to choosing clothes. After only a week and a half of marriage Rhett was certain that he could walk into any shop in the South and locate the exact dress that Scarlett would choose in under a minute. While Rhett would like to say that this newly acquired skill was a direct result of his near-telepathic understanding of his bride, in truth his task was made easier by Scarlett's appallingly cheap taste in clothing. No matter how distinguished a shop he took her into, she would unfailingly choose the trashiest dress it had to offer, drawn to gaudy colours and shiny fabrics like a moth to the proverbial flame.

While at first he had tried to improve her style by picking out more subtle, classy outfits which better befitted a woman of her beauty and status, after being met with her bull-headed resistance he had soon abandoned any attempts to educate his wife in the field of haute couture and instead come to take pleasure in her unique approach to fashion.

Today though, Scarlett had not been interested in such dresses, confusing Rhett by turning her nose up at clothes which she would normally have pleaded with him to buy for her. Moreover, she had systematically refused every single dress that he pointed out to her making Rhett worry that he had been wrong in his belief that he knew her taste better even than she herself did. She had kept on about how this outfit need to be extra special, as if that night's party were some terribly important affair to be attended by kings and queens rather than a ramshackle assortment of his carpetbagger and scallywag friends.

He could not understand why she seemed so fixated on finding the perfect dress, nor why she now kept picking at that said dress as they made their way by carriage to the house of Edward Kellerman, an associate of his from back in the days of the Californian gold mines. Curiously he swept his eyes across her face, noting the troubled look in her eyes and the tight, pinched expression that she wore. Lowering his gaze he took in her stiff, uncomfortable posture, annoyed that her dress covered her so completely that it denied him the opportunity to pick up more clues as to her current emotions from her body language.

Not only was her dress far more modest in style than her usual ensembles, but it was also far more muted, being made of a dull, almost-brownish red rather than her traditionally bright and glaring choice of colours. He did not know why but everything about it offended him, sure it was elegant and dignified and all that a respectable woman's dress should be, but somehow or other it seemed an insult to his wife, diminishing her presence and making her almost ordinary. He found himself missing the very sort of clothes he had previously tried to stop her from wearing, only now appreciating how their bold, brash style reflected Scarlett's personality perfectly, announcing her as a force of nature who would not be tamed by the social codes that other women conformed to.

Indeed, it was this very distain for the rules that had attracted his attention in the first place, her decision to wear a low-cut evening dress to the barbeque at Twelve Oakes instantly singling her out from the other women and informing Rhett that at last he had found someone who, though similarly high-born, did not belong in such elite and depressingly dull company any more than he himself did.

He frowned as he realised that had she worn her current dress to that gathering he would not have bothered to take notice of her, would have written her off as yet another well-mannered, empty-headed southern lady unworthy of holding his attention beyond the time it would have taken him to note her flawless magnolia skin and unusually engaging emerald eyes.

Why, had she worn such a dress as she was now he would never have taken the trouble to track her movements, would not have noticed how she flirted shamelessly with the men around her, drawing them into her carefully-constructed web in the hope of ensnaring her true prize; the esteemed Mr. Wilkes. Indeed, had he not developed such a searing, intense interest in this previously unknown woman who had somehow seemed so achingly familiar, he would never have become embroiled in a row over the South's prospects in the imminent Civil War with a group of such silly, misguided young men. Men who were only now significant in the fact that they clearly desired the very woman he had so recently set his sights on and therefore must be put firmly in their place.

He frowned as he realised that, had he not fought with them he would not have needed to escape to the peace and quiet of the library, would not have overheard the most entertaining and delectable of conversations, one which had transformed the course his entire life would take from there on out.

Caught up in his decidedly unpleasant thoughts, Rhett failed to notice when the carriage stopped outside of their destination, being pulled back to reality only when Scarlett prodded him sharply in the ribs and murmured, 'We're here Rhett.'

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Rhett made to climb down only to have Scarlett pull him roughly back into his seat. Confused by her irrational behaviour, he made to turn around and question her when he caught sight of the Fairleigh sisters walking past accompanied by their parents. Breaking out into a smug smirk he spun his head and raised a knowing eyebrow at his wife, relishing the way that her cheeks flushed even as she scowled angrily at him.

Nothing in this world felt sweeter to him than Scarlett O'Hara's jealousy. It was proof, however faint and flimsy, that she at least cared about him enough to want to keep him out of the clutches of other women.

Feeling his earlier irritation at his wife's unfathomable behaviour fade away, Rhett took her hand in his as pressed it chastely to his lips, wanting to reward her rare show of feeling by letting his own affection shine through if only for the briefest of moments.

Waiting until the sisters had entered the building and disappeared from view, Rhett stood up and swung down from the carriage before helping Scarlett to alight, offering her his arm as they began to walk up to the house.

Passing through the doorway and climbing the staircase to the large, lavishly decorated reception room, Rhett smiled at the absurdity of the saying that crime does not pay. For while Kellerman was far from an honest man, having joined Rhett in many a dubious scheme in the past, his current fortune implied that he had never been made to suffer for partaking in such illicit activities.

Sure enough, as they were greeted at the entrance to the reception room by Kellerman and his wife Rhett took in their extravagant attire, noting how Rebecca was wearing so much jewellery that she sparkled almost as brightly as the room's two imposing crystal chandeliers.

'Good of you to join us Butler' John remarked, slapping him heartily on the back, 'my wife was beginning to worry that the guests of honour would be missing from their own party.'

Beside him Rebecca blushed with embarrassment and told him to hush, 'I knew that you'd come, I was just a little worried Mrs. Butler might not be feeling up to it that's all,' turning to Scarlett she asked with concern, 'are you all better now?'

Rhett bit back a smirk at the look of confusion that passed across his wife's face, her forehead creasing in a way that told him she was clearly questioning Mrs. Kellerman's sanity.

Deciding to help her out, he leant down towards her and murmured, 'You remember don't you, my dear? How you were taken ill in church last Sunday.'

The angry glare that Scarlett shot his way told him that she did indeed remember how she had been forced to feign a coughing fit in order to cover up the giggles brought on by the incredibly rude and inappropriate tale Rhett had been whispering to her while the minister droned endlessly on about redemption and sin and a whole host of other topics which were far too sanctimonious for his tastes.

'Yes thank you Rebecca,' she answered in the falsely sweet voice that had always irritated him, concealing as it did her true biting and captivating tone, 'I don't know what came over me, there must have been something nearby that simply didn't agree with me.'

Grinning at her thinly concealed barb, Rhett enjoyed the sensation of him and Scarlett sharing a private joke while their hosts for this evening looked on unawares. He wondered idly if they too had moments like this, moments of intimacy in crowded rooms in which they sparked off each other and felt more intensely alive than ever before. He supposed that they probably did, after all they were people like himself and Scarlett, brassy and brazen and not afraid to overstep the boundaries of conventional marriage etiquette which implied that such unions should be built upon respect and duty rather than love and desire.

Yet, he could not help but think that even if they did enjoy such similar interactions they would never quite manage to live up to the ones that he and Scarlett regularly partook in. They were both such beautiful, confident, intimidating people as individuals that together they could not help but create something truly unique and extraordinary. Joking, relaxing, fighting, in love and in hatred, they effortlessly outshone everyone else. There was just something so powerful about their connection, an electricity that hummed louder than anyone else's, a passion that simply could not be matched.

Of course, he knew that Scarlett herself would not see it that way, in fact he doubted that she ever gave their relationship much thought at all, and yet the fact that the flame remained between them in spite of her indifference made Rhett wonder just how brightly it would burn when she finally opened up her heart to him.

'Scarlett!' came a shrill cry from across the room, simultaneously pulling Rhett out of his musings and Scarlett away from his side. Making a hasty farewell to the Kellermans his wife hurried across the room to her giggling gang of cohorts, women who had taken to her from the moment of her arrival in New Orleans and set her up as a sort of leader for their motley crew. Shrieking and simpering they made her spin round for them, all rushing to complement her dress and be the one to earn her much sought after smile of condescending thanks.

Rhett chuckled darkly at the display, both happy to see Scarlett reinstated to the position of Belle of the ball that he had helped her to lose in Atlanta and cynically amused that she had found her true place not among the elite crowd favoured by Mr and Mrs. Wilkes, but with the same disreputable rascals that he had always considered his friends.

Indeed, it was one of these very morally-dubious, but straight-talking men that now signalled to him from a shady corner of the room, breaking away from the group discussion he was currently involved in to wave Rhett over.

Taking leave of John and his wife, Rhett approached them slowly, carefully scanning the faces of the men in the group in order to try and gauge what it was that they wished to talk to him about. For though he liked and trusted these people- well as much as one could ever trust a scallywag- and could not deny that part of him itched to take part in another underhand scheme or two, he was after all on his honeymoon and didn't wish for what was left of his time in New Orleans to be taken up with plots and plans when it could be better spent partaking in illicit activities of an altogether more pleasurable nature.

'Ah Rhett,' said Matthew Griffin, an old acquaintance of his from the food-speculation game, reaching out to shake his hand in welcome, 'now here's a man who knows everything that there is to know about lucky escapes, wasn't too long ago you were facing the old noose yourself now was it my friend.'

Rhett grinned, enjoying being back amongst men who would not condemn him for his misdeeds as those in Atlanta always did, but instead actually looked up to him for them, seeing his spell in prison as a mark of his worth.

'Indeed it wasn't, unfortunately my funds were tied up at the time otherwise I'd have employed your age-old tactic Griffin and bribed every official within a fifty-mile radius to keep myself from ending up behind bars.' Rhett drawled lazily, earning himself a nervous smile from Matthew and a round of chuckles from the other three men, all of whom he knew from his blockading days and various clandestine trips to Cuba and Nassau.

'So how exactly did you manage to swing it so you didn't end up swinging then?' joked one of them, a deceptively slight looking man named Richard who Rhett knew from personal experience could throw a surprisingly powerful punch.

'You know a gentleman never reveals his secrets.' Rhett smirked.

'So you'll have no problem in telling us then!' quipped Matthew.

'Not one.' Rhett replied good-naturedly, 'It was mainly down to a winning combination of befriending the guards and having friends in high places who owed me a favour or two. Although spending twenty-three hours a day carving a hole in the floor with a wooden spoon didn't hurt either.'

'Ha! I bet the prospect of being met on the outside by your vision of a bride helped make the digging easier, hey Rhett?' Matthew teased.

The men laughed and Rhett joined in, unable to hide his pleasure at finding himself once again among like-minded, shrewd men who shared both his business acumen and his sharp sense of humour.

'So as an expert in escaping justice, what do you think the chances are that the rumours about old Bill Quantrill are true?' asked Richard.

'What rumours would they be?' asked Rhett, thinking it more prudent to feign ignorance despite the fact he was pretty certain he knew what it was they were referring to.

'That he wasn't actually killed in that Union ambush in Kentucky, but managed to escape while heavily wounded.'

'Why don't you ask Robert here,' Rhett said, patting the man to his left who'd be noticeably quiet so far, 'after all he was far better acquainted with him than the rest of us.'

Swallowing noticeably as the rest of the group turned accusing eyes on him, Robert rushed to explain. 'Just from his early days, back when it was just petty thieving and cattle rustling he was into, I was never part of his raiding parties or anything.'

'Don't trouble yourself Bobby,' said Matthew placatingly, 'even if you had been involved in the raids I wouldn't get Kellerman to throw you out, after all those folks in Laurence had it coming to them, killing all the gang's women in that slaughter-house of a jail like they did.'

Looking decidedly relieved, Robert nodded his head stiffly as the other men rushed to agree with Matthew's views. Rhett however stayed silent, preferring to keep his cards close to his chest as always. Seeing the others turn back to him still clearly waiting for his opinion of Quantrill's fate though, Rhett said with a quiet authority, 'If he did make it out of there alive then I doubt we'll be hearing from him anytime soon. If it was me I'd have got the first passage out of here that I possibly could. Found myself a nice little place somewhere deep in the South American countryside, somewhere that no one's going to bother to come looking for you no matter how much they want revenge.'

Nodding sagely, Richard said, 'Yes, he won't be causing the Yankees any trouble from now on, it'll be up to men like Frank and Jesse James to carry on his legacy now.'

Rhett was about to take up this new turn in the conservation when he felt a hand on his back and, turning, came face to face with his wife. One look at her curious expression made Rhett's jaw tighten, leaving him as it did in no doubt that Scarlett had heard more of his conversation than he'd have liked.

'Yes my dear?' he asked quickly, hoping to distract her from her thoughts and cursing the day he'd told her that eavesdroppers often hear highly instructive things.

Sweeping her eyes across each of the men in turn, Rhett smiled as his friends, mistaking Scarlett's curiosity for attraction, all swelled under her scrutiny before deflating dejectedly when she focussed her attention firmly on Rhett and said, 'Rebecca wants to start the dancing and seeing as we're the guests of honour we need to join in.'

'Of course my pet,' he replied, happy to partake in anything that would get her away from the men and their talk of issues that he would rather her remain ignorant of. Offering her his arm, he led her onto the space cleared in the middle of the room to make an impromptu dance floor.

As much as he enjoyed talking to his old associates and reminiscing about times gone by, Rhett never felt more content or truly himself these days than when Scarlett was by his side. He sometimes marvelled at how the young explorer who had needed no one and nothing but himself had been so easily and completely tamed by a woman who, not only didn't love him, but often scarcely seemed to like him.

Yet that was exactly what had happened, one glance across a crowded lawn and his old pursuit of fame and fortune had been replaced in favour of chasing after something far more elusive; Scarlett O'Hara's heart. For if adventures and law-breaking were what made his pulse race during his younger days, now it was only his infuriating enchantress of a wife who was capable of eliciting such a reaction from him.

Standing across from her now as the other guests slowly began to make their way to the floor, he was conscious only of his overwhelming need for her, the ache to touch her, to claim her as his own in front of all these people who thought that they knew him and yet never really would. There was after all only one person he was willing to lay himself completely bare in front of, one person he wanted to share his past, present and future with, if only she would let him.

As the music started up and Rhett pulled Scarlett against his body in way that was slightly too close to be entirely decent, he could not help but to reminisce about the first time he had ever held her in his arms. The differences between now and the were staggering, the intermediate years having changed him from a daring, freewheeling blockader into a devoted husband and transformed Scarlett from a miserable young woman suffocating under the weight of her widow's weeds into a wife who, if not wholly in love with her new husband, was at least fond of his person and more than content with the size of his bank balance. While he may not have yet won her heart at least he no longer had to pay ridiculous sums of money just to hold her, didn't have to incur the wrath of society by daring to take her in his arms.

He was just beginning to enjoy the dance when Scarlett lifted her head to look at him through narrowed eyes and asked suspiciously, 'What were you talking about?'

Hoping to stall for time he replied rather lamely, 'Talking about? I've been perfectly silent these last five minutes.'

Scowling, but undeterred, she pressed on, 'A moment ago with your friends, just before I came to tell you about the dancing.'

'My dear those men are hardly my friends, why they'd sell me out to the first man they found if they thought they could stand to make a buck or two out of it.'

Refusing to be side-tracked by his attempts to distract her, Scarlett said firmly, 'One of them mentioned Jesse James.'

'Did they my dear? I must have missed that, I myself was too busy trying to fend off Matthew's requests for a dance with you later in the evening.'

He knew it was shameful to use flattery, and false flattery at that, to throw his much too curious wife off the scent, but one look at her surprised yet smug smile told him that his underhand tactics had worked their magic once again.

'Which one is Matthew?' Scarlett asked, throwing a glance back towards the corner where the men were still standing.

'Matthew my dear is the one looking utterly dejected after I explained to him that I don't intend for you to leave my arms for a single moment this evening let alone an entire dance.'

Scarlett rolled her eyes at his remark, yet Rhett couldn't help but notice how her smile doubled in size despite her apparent show of annoyance. Making the most of her current good mood by pulling her closer against him still, Rhett sighed a silent breath of relief at the fact she seemed to have abandoned her former train of thought.

It was not that he was ashamed of his previous dealings and association with unscrupulous men, why if anything he revelled in it, enjoying the way he could make respectable people blush by simply hinting at some of his past deeds. Moreover, it was these very misdemeanours that had gained him his current fortune and position in life, allowing him to stand on his own two feet and prove his father wrong. They had paid for the clothes on his back, the food on his table and even, he thought with a pang of self-loathing, the woman by his side. After all Scarlett believed their marriage to be nothing more than a business transaction and, while the thought pained him deeply, he knew he would gladly suffer that pain and a great deal more besides if it meant he got to keep her.

No, he was not ashamed of his past by any means, but that did not necessarily mean that he wanted Scarlett to know every last sordid detail of it. Why, it was hard enough trying to make his stubborn bride fall in love with him as it was without telling her things that would make any sane person's blood run cold. Not that Scarlett ever did react the way normal people did of course, but still he couldn't afford to take the chance, not when he stood to lose so much if her reaction didn't go his way.

So instead he kept quiet, thankful that his diversion tactics had successfully managed to hold off her curiosity for a little longer yet. And who knew, perhaps the next time she started asking uncomfortable questions the situation between them would have changed, and Scarlett would care about him enough to stay despite the various skeletons-both metaphorical and literal- that littered his former life.

As the song they were dancing to morphed into a slower waltz, he leant his head down to rest his chin amongst her silken curls and asked quietly, 'Are you enjoying the ball my dear.'

'Oh Rhett,' she gushed excitedly, 'it's just heavenly! I feel like I'm back where I used to be before the war came and spoiled everything! None of the balls in Atlanta are half as grand as this one, why your friends are just the finest people that I've ever met!'

Rhett forgot himself for a moment and, throwing back his head, he laughed freely at her ignorance. 'Finest people that you've ever met, indeed! My dear they're all second-raters, black sheep, rascals. They all made their money speculating in food like your loving husband or in shady ways that won't bear investigation.'

'I don't believe it. You're teasing. They're the nicest people…' she argued, a small frown appearing between her brows as her eyes lost some of their joyful light.

'The nicest people in town are starving' Rhett replied jovially, enjoying Scarlett's error too much to notice her growing distress, 'Scarlett, you are a constant joy to me. You unerringly manage to pick the wrong people and the wrong things.'

'But they are your friends!' she cried, slightly hysterically, blushing deeply as the surrounding couples turned to stare at her and Rhett.

'Oh, but I like rascals. Whereas you have no instinct about people, no discrimination between the cheap and the great. Sometimes, I think that the only great ladies you've ever associated with were your mother and Miss Melly and neither seems to have made any impression on you.'

'Melly! Why, she's as plain as an old shoe…'

'Spare me your jealousy,' Rhett snapped, cutting her tirade short as he did not wish to listen to her venomous talk, not when he knew exactly where her envy for the woman stemmed from.

'Beauty doesn't make a lady, nor clothes a great lady.' He said spitefully, raising an eyebrow in disdain as he cast an openly disparaging glance over her dress which had been offending him all night for a reason that he hadn't been able to fully comprehend until now.

He had thought the dress irritated him only because it hid both Scarlett's body and personality from him, yet now he realised that his dislike of the garment went far deeper than that. The dress was a symbol, a symbol of his wife's continued attempts to deny her true nature and become something that she was not. It displayed her wish to fit in with genteel society, the sort of people that had cast him out and that Ashley would forever belong to.

He had thought that she was beginning to change her views, that her enjoyment of balls such as this one hosted by people like himself meant that she was finally acknowledging that she belonged in his world rather than the one dominated by men such as the esteemed Mr Wilkes. But as usual he had been mistaken. She had only accepted this invitation, had only befriended these people because she thought that they were upper-class gentry rather than low-born and badly-bred scallywags.

Caught up in a bitter wave of disappointment, he hardly heard her gasp of hurt as she took in his contemptuous appraisal of her dress and most of her ensuing declaration that she would prove him wrong by becoming a great lady went over his head.

Indeed, he hardly had the energy to respond, settling only for making a glib, throw-away comment about how he would await her transformation with interest.

He had meant for that to be the end of the discussion, had wanted to forget about the conversation altogether and distract himself with happier thoughts, but Scarlett seemed to take his words as an insult and pulled herself swiftly out of his arms.

'You don't think I can do it, do you?' she asked, her voice rising along with her infamously volatile temper.

Casting a glance around him, Rhett noticed that practically every guest in the room was looking at them, many of the other couple even having stopped dancing to stare over at them with poorly-concealed curiosity.

He smirked to himself as he realised that the one downside of keeping company with unrespectable people is that they had no manners when it came to simple social etiquette, why if they had been having this disagreement in a ball in Atlanta, the other guests would at least have been well-bred enough to look away while they tried to eavesdrop on his and Scarlett's altercation.

Unfortunately for Rhett though, Scarlett took his smirk to mean that he was laughing at her and, pride severely wounded, she turned and fled the room leaving him stranded upon the dance floor.

Donning his habitual mask of practiced indifference, Rhett smiled apologetically at the crowd around him and explained, 'Apologies, but I'm afraid that whatever was upsetting my wife in church on Sunday seems to have returned with a vengeance. I'm afraid if you'll be kind enough to excuse me I'll be sure to see that she returns safely to our hotel.'

Without further ado he hurried after Scarlett, forcing himself to keep his strides leisurely so as not to give the slightest inclination that he was in fact rushing to get to her.

Stepping out into the hallway he glanced quickly around him before catching sight of Scarlett near the bottom of the grand staircase which descended down into the foyer of the house. Grabbing hold of the bannister he tore down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as she exited the house through the front door.

Annoyed at having been made to look a fool in front of his friends and having walked out of a party kindly given in his and his wife's honour by the Kellerman's, his grip was a little harsher than he intended when he finally caught up with Scarlett on the pavement and grabbed her arm to swing her round to face him.

'Let go of me!' she yelped indignantly, pulling her arm away in a way that only made Rhett hold on tighter.

'Believe me my dear I'll be glad to let you go just as soon as you explain to me why you felt it necessary to leave a ball hosted expressly for you in such an undignified manner.'

'Huh, undignified!' Scarlett snorted, 'I'd have thought people of their sort would be used to bad manners!'

The muscle in Rhett's jaw twitched as he fought to keep himself under control, 'You didn't seem to mind their 'sort' until now my pet, indeed it's been highly amusing watching you this last week, running after them like an abandoned puppy desperate for approval.'

Rhett watched with satisfaction as Scarlett flinched visibly under the onslaught of his cruel words, pleased to find that he could hurt her as much as she was capable of hurting him.

Indeed, the knowledge that he had found her weak spot filled him with an intoxicating sense of power, pushing him to go further still, 'It's been quite pathetic my dear, watching you try so very hard to win the friendship of a bunch of good for nothing rascals, following you round this morning as you tried to find a dress worthy of such esteemed company, listening to you sweet-talk them into liking you.'

'Stop it' she appealed softly, but he would not be stopped, not now when he was finally able to break down the walls she had built around herself. Before he had hoped such tactics would not be necessary, that one day she would simply lower her defences and let him in, but despite all his best efforts since their wedding day it had not happened and he had grown tired of waiting. If she would not willingly allow him inside then he would force his way in and deal with the consequences later.

'Tell me darling, how does it feel to know you had to make such an effort even to win over a group of reprobates such as them? To know that you'll only ever belong in such base company.'

'Stop it! I will be a great lady, I will!' she cried, suddenly tearing her arm free in a surge of strength as she turned and ran down the street.

At the sight of her running away from him the anger and pain that had consumed Rhett until now dissipated, leaving behind only a clammy, sick feeling as he watched her rush to escape him. He had not meant to wound her so deeply, after all he knew more than anyone how much she longed to be thought of as a lady, how desperately she wished to emulate the mother who she had loved and lost at far too young an age.

It was her primary goal in life. A goal which, despite often being side-lined by her near fanatical need for the security that money brought, forever burnt brightly in her heart. It was her most dear and most secret wish, her only real weakness and one which he had just used to tear her apart.

He was a cad. A fact he had always known yet never felt as keenly as he did in this moment. He had been hurt by the realisation that she hadn't accepted his friends as he'd thought she had done, but had merely mistaken them for ladies and gentlemen. He'd felt as if her criticisms of them were criticisms of him too, being cut from the very same cloth as them as he was. He had wanted to hurt her for hurting him and he had succeeded. But for once the victory did not bring him any joy, only a dull sense of foreboding as if he had cut a vital cord between them which could not now be reattached.

Putting his pride to the back of his mind he hurried after her, finding himself grateful that her dress, the cause of so much strife between them, at least made it impossible for her to outrun him. Swiftly catching up with her, he grabbed hold of her arm- far more gently this time- and pulled her to a stop.

His breath caught in his throat as he surveyed her face and realised that she was crying, instantly he pulled her to him, but she resisted, stepping back to look up at him through wet, but angry eyes.

'Stay away from me Rhett,' she sniffled sadly, not seeming to have the energy for her usual fiery outburts.

'I'm sorry honey,' he said, employing the endearment he only used in the most earnest of moments, 'I was angry that you thought my friends beneath you and embarrassed that you left me standing alone on a crowded dance floor and I said things that I didn't mean. I hope you can forgive me.'

A frown darkened Scarlett's face as she looked up at him, seemingly bracing herself for the insult that she no doubt expected to accompany his words. Ashamed that she did not trust him, Rhett let go of her arm and reached up instead to stroke her cheeks, softly wiping away the tracks left upon them by her tears before resting his forehead against hers in a sign of contrition.

'You upset me.' She said simply after a few moments of silence, her eyes looking up at him accusingly like those of a child shocked at having been shouted at by their favourite parent.

'I know.' He admitted regretfully.

'Promise you won't do it again.'

'I promise.'

They stayed like that for a long time, silently staring into each other's eyes while wrapped up in each other on a deserted, moon-lit street, miles away from home and yet somehow feeling closer to it than they ever had before.

Eventually they heard the sound of a carriage passing and reluctantly broke apart, Rhett offering Scarlett his arm as they began to walk back towards their hotel.

'Rhett…' Scarlett said a few minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence.

'Hmm?'

'I still like your friends.'

Rhett chuckled lightly and squeezed her arm, 'Thank-you my dear.'

...

'Scarlett'

'Hmm?'

'I still don't like your dress.'

...

'Me either.'