Scarlett's face felt like it was frozen in a constant gracious smile. Bertie leaned over several times during dinner gently running his finger down her bare upper arm as though they were lovers. They would incline their heads towards one another speaking in French about topics that interested them. Mostly English history as Albert was working on a history of the British Throne and it's monarchs.

Grazing her wrist with his index finger he smiled a lazy, languorous smile. Scarlett forced herself to smile back at him. "Bertie, you should be ashamed. Surely you are breaking the heart of a certain person now present."

Bertie laughed. "It is certainly not one of my amoureuses que je souhaite mettre à feu." (Love affairs I am wishing to ignite.)

Scarlett turned to look at Bertie completely disregarding convention to claim his full attention, she whispered hurriedly to him in French "Mon Dieu que vous essayez de rendre Rhett jaloux. Je ne pense pas qui est possible mon amour." (My God you're trying to make Rhett jealous. I do not think that is possible my love)

Bertie smiled at her and took her hand in his turning it palm side up as though they were alone together instead of in a crowded dinning room, he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it deeply. He whispered to her softly, but barely containing his laughter. "Je vous adore l'OH Venus." (I worship you oh Venus)

Scarlett couldn't help it, she burst out into a peel of laughter. "You are horrible, wonderful, but incorrigible."

He spoke low but confidently. "I do adore you and if I can't be happy I plan on living vicariously through you."
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Rhett continued to make small talk with Sir John as Lettie continued to sigh dramaticaly over the forbidden romance brewing between the Prince and Scarlett.

"Did you see that," Lettie exclaimed in a scandalized hiss, "He just took a flower from the centerpiece and broke the stem, now he's putting it in her hair."

Rhett drank deeply from his glass of wine. For the past hour he'd been pointedly ignoring the activities of Scarlett and her Prince. Not that he would have had to look at them. Lettie had kept up a fairly constant commentary. Rhett's grip on the wine glasses stem was so tight John feared he'd crush it in his iron grip.

Sir John leveled his gaze on his sister; enough was enough. "Enough. You obviously haven't been paying attention during the deportment lessons at your school. You are both boring our guest and embarrassing myself. Two fatal faux pas in the course of just one meal."

Lettie looked at her brother, her eyes brimming up with tears as though he'd just slapped her. "Please excuse me, but I've lost my appetite." She stood and curtsied to her brother and Rhett.

Sir John frowned "Lettie, please." But she already had begun to weave her way through the small intimate dinning tables that Scarlett had chosen instead of the usual long table so favored by the aristocracy.

John turned to Rhett, still frowning slightly. "I'm doing a terrible botch of the whole guardian thing. I yell too much and my only experience of seventeen year old girls is nearly twenty years in the past when I myself was seventeen."

Rhett glanced in Scarlett's direction almost against his will. "Seventeen year old girls can be quite a handful, so can twenty-seven year olds for that matter."

"Is Lettie right, do you know Scarlett far more intimately than you've let on?"

Rhett sipped from his wine glass stalling for time graciously. "Been listening to Lettie I see."

"You've been studiously avoiding looking at the head table for much of the last four courses. You actually didn't quite appear to be so bored by Lettie's running commentary as I pretended you to be."

"Sir John?" So intent on their conversation neither had noticed that Scarlett had risen from the head table to grace theirs with her presence."

Sir John stood and bowed "Madame?"

Scarlett smiled softly. "Your sister, she seemed to be in great distress, not the menus offerings I hope?"

"Sadly no, the dinner company."

Scarlett laughed "Mister Butler, for shame; terrifying young girls. You'll lead the gathered company to think your fellow Americans all delight in the tourmenting of young girls."

Rhett stood and meet her eye to eye. He deliberately bowed gracefully, but pointedly. "Madame Robiliard. What a pleasure to see you once again. I found my rooms to be delightful; I did so appreciate your personal attention in relation to my comfort. DO you take such pains with all your guests?"

Scarlett smiled. "Only when they are special guests, you being one of my own country men."

Sir John took the opportunity to interrupt before they came to blows. "My sister is a high spirited young lady, unfortunately I am more than a bit set in my bachelor ways and I am a very poor companion to her."

Scarlett nodded "Younger sisters can be a trial, I myself have two. I do think you'll find that she'll one day be the best friend you could ever hope for."

It was Rhett's turn to laugh out loud. "Is that what happened with your sister Madame Robiliard?"

"No, one became a nun and the other remains a shrew. But I would hardly be a good sister had I initially included that information. Now gentlemen, please continue dinner, I will go and fetch Lettie back to supper."

"Thank you Madame..."

"Please Sir John, call me Scarlett."

Scarlett nodded and hurried off. Both sat back down.

Sir John placed his napkin back in his lap and picked up his fork before addressing Rhett. "So exactly how long were you and Madame Robiliard married?"

Rhett sipped his port thoughtfully "I can honestly say that I have never been married to a woman named Robiliard."

John nodded and swallowed the chicken he'd been chewing on during Rhett's statement. "Really, then what did Scarlett call herself when you were married?"

"Scarlett Butler, what else would she call herself?" asked Rhett while signaling the waiter for more port.