Thank you, dear readers, for your willingness to roll with me on that last chapter. I know it must have been difficult to read – it was certainly difficult to write. If I have a theme for this sequel sequel, it is probably that of redemption – R&S 's redemption as a couple, certainly, but perhaps, even more Rhett's own redemption as a character. I blame much of R&S initial difficulties on his deficits. I've had several wonderful discussions with some of you over pms, with regards to Rhett's special brand of selfish love – which he calls "immoderate love" in the carriage ride in the fog with Rose. His love, (which he feared does damage to everyone he loves) certainly had that element of "too much" in his dealings with first Scarlett and then Bonnie, but also that element of wanting to get something out of it - be loved and adored in return, rather than make the beloved happy. Selfish love. He had to learn that loving unselfishly and vulnerably does not do damage - in fact, quite the opposite. Over the years, he was able to learn that through his new relationship with Scarlett, and even more slowly, over time, with Rose. The *key* to his redemption were the Thad letters – he does something extremely uncomfortable for himself, for no other reason than to help Rose. And in the process of wanting to heal Rose, he also heals Thad, and ultimately himself ….which is how unselfish love works. Through a domino effect.

For LMS, for HelenSES, for darthripley and for the guests that wanted more of Charlotte. For Amaranthe and LMS, and DianaMary who wanted more Charles and Belle (there is only a sneak peek here, but more of them to come. I promise). For LMS, gbella, Francisca Olivia, and Parijaan, who wanted more Rose and Thad, for AnnaPanag, who likes R&T kissing scenes, and for WiwitDM who wanted to hear more about how their relationship evolved. For LMS, who wanted to read more about Perry's pursuit of Stella. For Firth'sDarcy, who wanted to hear about Scarlett's reaction to the news that she's invited to tea at the Baker's. (Frankly, that thought cracked me up as well.)

JS – forgot to answer your question from a few pages back. Yes, I do love all kinds of literature, from all over the world. My escape, when medicine gets a little bit too harsh.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,

Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,

First pledge of blithesome May,

Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold,

High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they

An Eldorado in the grass have found,

Which not the rich earth's ample round

May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me

Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be.

-James Russel Lowell, "To the Dandelion"

A particularly annoying blackbird awoke Charlotte at the crack of dawn. She yawned, scrunched up her face, and glanced at the carriage clock on the bedside table. About twenty minutes to seven. She cuddled herself back into the sheets, which were as soft as silk to the skin. She did not know that years of scratchy, lice-infested blankets in cold dorm rooms had given their host a decided preference for fine linen, which he had liberally distributed amongst the house's many guest rooms. She made a feeble attempt to go back to sleep, but the feathered fiend's chirp chirp continued to pound on her head, making further rest impossible.

She scowled in the direction of the window, trying to imagine what blackbird in crème sauce would taste like. Then she sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. There was a sweet scent in the air, wafting from the vases full of fresh flowers in the room, which Belle herself personally cut and arranged every morning.

Charlotte threw on a grey wrapper, and opened her door. She felt the coolness of the oak floor under her bare feet, contrasting pleasantly with the rising warmth of the May morning. Despite the ubiquity of Texas blackbirds, Charlotte found herself hoping Rose would marry Thad as quickly as possible, and invite her over often.

She had only taken a few steps before she froze in her tracks.

Another door in the long hallway had opened – the door to the room assigned to Charles Butler. But it was not her uncle who now stepped out, and almost collided with her.

"Excuse me," Charlotte mumbled, her face nearly as red as the remaining streaks of color in Belle's hair.

Belle's mouth opened, and her hand flew to her lips in horror. Her pink-and white wrapper was carelessly buttoned, as if it had been redone recently, and in haste. Her thick tresses cascaded in liberal, untidy waves about her shoulders. For endless seconds, the two women stared at each other. There was no social protocol for such situations as these, leaving them both completely at loss for words. Suddenly, Belle turned, and strode stiffly down the hallway.

Charlotte stared after her. It was simply too much to keep to herself. Almost instantly, she turned on her heels, and burst into Rose's room.

"Rose! Wake up!" she said, in the loudest whisper she could manage. "You'll never guess what happened." She looked around as she spoke, confirming that their cousin had allotted the most impressive guest-room to his beloved. The large, curved windows faced towards the front of the Ranch, affording a liberal view over the pastures, and the blue-green hills in the distance. The warm mesquite wood furniture caught the morning sun, and contrasted nicely with the elegant ivory bed-sheets, and the finely-woven, cream-colored rugs on the floor.

On the other hand, Charlotte noted, there were no fresh flowers.

"Owwww," came a muffled sound from underneath the pillows. "My head."

"What's wrong with your head?" Charlotte wanted to know. Her younger cousin pulled herself into a seated position, her dark curls forming a tangled web around her face. Rose blinked several times as Charlotte sat herself down beside her.

"Don't ask," Rose said, wincing, holding her cheeks with both hands. "And don't speak so ….loudly, Charlotte. Please."

"Sorry," Charlotte offered cheerfully, flopping herself backwards on the bed. The motion elicited another feeble moan from Rose. "But I had to come tell you what I saw!"

Rose resigned herself with a sigh. "What did you see?"

"Thad's mother," Charlotte said, dramatically, pushing herself up again.

"She lives here, I believe," Rose muttered, dryly.

"…coming out of Uncle Charles' room!"

That had the desired effect. Rose's bluebell eyes opened wide, her headache momentarily forgotten. "Really!"

Charlotte nodded, vigorously. "Do you think….." She started to giggle. "Uncle Charles, of all people! He's nothing but a fusty old….."

Rose nodded. "I know. The idea!" They grinned at each other, with all the ruthlessness of youth.

Charlotte sat up all the way, pulling up her knees, and hugging them. She vaguely felt just how much insecurity, and inexperience, was hidden under all their bravado. "I wonder what it's like to …."

Rose frowned, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

Charlotte, as usual, was impervious to hints. "To …..you know….kiss a boy."

"Hmmm," said Rose, hoping it would come out sounding like "I really have no idea!" But alas - it didn't.

Charlotte laid her head to the side, and regarded her cousin keenly. "Have you ever…." When Rose didn't answer, she squealed, "You have! Who? Was it Cousin Thad? Do tell!"

Rose remained mute. "It was him," Charlotte ascertained, gleefully, and somewhat enviously. "And you didn't tell me! What was it like?" She tried to push away the ignominy of being three-and-twenty years old, and never once kissed.

Rose tried to remember the kiss, and discovered that her aching brain had stored only fleeting images. "I don't remember too much of it," she murmured, somewhat regretfully.

"You don't remember?" Charlotte repeated, aghast. "Is he ….. such a bad kisser?"

"No…well…I don't think so," Rose confessed. "It ….well…..you see….I'd drank some brandy last night. Because I …couldn't sleep."

"Brandy?" Charlotte, whose brain was unfortunately not at all hampered by hangover, pieced together the information Rose let slip with lamentable rapidity. "And what do you mean, last night? Do you mean you….oh!"

"Nothing happened," Rose said, wincing at her own alcohol-induced stupor. If this ever got out, her father would kill her. If her mother didn't get to her first. "We just….kissed."

Charlotte's eyes were as big as saucers. "So this did happen…..last night? Where? In your room?"

"Well….." Rose moaned. "Owwww." She remembered the water pitcher, and the conversation that had led up to the kiss. She resolved never to touch brandy again. As long as she lived.

"Wow," Charlotte remarked. It was too much to take in. Uncle Charles and Belle. And now, Rose and Thad. She needed time to process. "Go back to sleep," she said, finally. "We can….. talk later."

Rose nodded. "All right." She watched Charlotte leave, much slower and more thoughtful than when she had arrived. Rose shook her head in wonder. Apparently, after checking on Thad, Belle Watling had somehow ended up in Uncle Charles' room. If her head weren't killing her, curiosity would have.

With a groan, she fell back on her pillow.

~~oo~~

Thad cornered Scarlett in the sitting-room, where she was enjoying a few solitary minutes without her offspring, taking her tea. She offered the pot to him, but he declined.

"I only drink tea I made for myself. The maids always let it steep too long." He sat down on the settee across from her nonetheless, and smiled.

Scarlett raised her brows. She was not fooled. He was going to ask her for something - something he believed she would disapprove of. She had raised enough boys to know the signs. "Then why are you here? Merely for the pleasure of my company?"

"Something like that," he told her, easily. "I'd like to ask your permission to take Rose and Charlotte to Houston for a few days."

"What?" Scarlett replied, aghast. "To Houston? Just you and …..them? Thad! The idea!"

"Not just me and them," Thad smirked with obvious amusement. "I intend to take Ella along, as well. As their Chaperone."

"Ella?!"

"Yes. Ella. Your married, eldest daughter. Who will serve most admirably in that capacity."

"But….Ella…" Scarlett looked at Thad, really seeing him for the first time without the prism of nephew, of younger brother – seeing him, simply, as a man. And what she saw frightened her. He was the same age as Rhett had been, when he had courted her during - and after- the war. The same powerful physique. The same effortless, sensual grace. But what was perhaps most troubling of all, the same bland, unreadable mien. She suddenly realized she had no idea how Thad treated women he was involved with romantically. Or if Rose would be safe in his care.

Thad gently tugged on a long strand of her hair, the simple gesture recalling, but not restoring, the easy, familial camaraderie between them. "Scarlett. Dear, lovely Auntie Scarlett." When she scowled at him, he grinned, as if acknowledging the validity of her fears. "In your own way, you're quite right. Ella couldn't protect Rose from me. But then again, you couldn't protect Rose from me, either. Even her father couldn't. The only person that can protect Rose from me is …me. And I have been protecting her from myself for the last ….oh…five years, give or take." There was a strange solemnity in his gaze that would have frightened Scarlett had she seen it, despite the superficially reassuring words. "Whatever you may believe, I have no intention of stopping now."

Scarlett flushed. She wasn't accustomed to such frank speech. "Will you….."

"Marry her?" he asked, softly. His dark eyes regarded her keenly. "Would you mind if I did?"

"N…..o", she said, hesitatingly. "I wouldn't. Nor would Rhett. But…."

The black eyes continued to hold her, perhaps to weigh her. She neither flinched, nor looked away. Finally, he nodded. "Yes. If she'll have me."

"There's very little doubt about that," Scarlett replied, with sudden animation. "And if you don't treat my little girl like the precious Princess she is, you won't have to worry about Rhett coming after you. You'll have me to deal with, Thad Watling!"

He grinned, faintly, but his eyes remained grave. "If Rose stoops to wed me, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure she has no cause to regret her decision."

"I didn't mean it like that, you idiot", Scarlett said, shaking her head at him. "Oh, I don't deny I had all sorts of grand plans for her once, but I'm glad they didn't come to pass. Had she married one of the sons of Charleston's Ton, we'd have been trapped in that stuffy place forever, and I now know that would never have answered!" She wondered, briefly, if she should confess she had once actively opposed the match, but decided she had done her penance in writing her letter.

Apparently, his thoughts were meandering down similar paths. "I've never thanked you properly for enlightening me with regards to Rose's thoughts in France. It was …very informative. And it has much to do with where we are today. Wherever ….here is."

She smiled, and took another deep sip of her tea. "I'm glad." Picking up the discarded strand of their conversation, she continued, "But - why Houston? And why don't we just all go?"

"First and foremost, because it will be Rose's nineteenth birthday in two days, and I've been wanting to show her around my city. Second, because the Harpers are giving a ball, which will be one of the major social events of the month. Third, I want to introduce Rose to my friends, and…." he smiled enigmatically, "there's a certain gentleman of my acquaintance I want Charlotte to meet."

"But why Ella? I mean, why Ella, by herself?" Scarlett asked, still not at all convinced of the scheme.

"Because Ella is not ……well, Scarlett. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that." Scarlett flinched, but nodded. Unlike her husband, she had never been one to run from unpleasant realities. "She'd be in a different environment. A change of scenery, if you will. And she'd be given responsibility, for her younger cousin and sister. It would show you have confidence in her. And you know the three of them will have much more fun without you, or my mother, hanging around. It will do them all good."

"Well….", Scarlett said dubiously. His finer psychological points about the benefits of being trusted had floated straight over her head. But she did appreciate his wanting to promote Charlotte's interests, and the wisdom of Ella's being distracted, if only because Rose had mentioned something similar to her in the past. "All right," she finally agreed, rather heavily. "Who is the young man? The one you hope to introduce to Charlotte?"

"Wait and find out," Thad said, with an enigmatic chuckle, as if enjoying a private joke.

~~oo~~

Rose was in the stable, dreamily currying the white Arabian's mane, when Thad found her. The stable was deserted except for the two of them.

"How's the head?" he asked. The mare swished her tail, but quickly lost interest when she discovered he had brought with him neither apples, nor carrots.

"Better," Rose laughed. "But I don't think I'll be drinking brandy again, anytime soon."

"Probably not," he agreed, pushing open the stable door, and closing it behind him.

Rose could feel her cheeks flush at his proximity. He leaned back against the wall, studying her. "I have some news, which I hope you'll not find unpleasant. I asked your mother if I could take you, and Charlotte, and Ella to Houston with me tomorrow morning. She agreed."

"Take us to Houston?"

"There's a ball later that night," he said. "And I thought we might check how our patients are doing. The Native girl, and the baby."

"Oh," she said, a dazed expression on her face at the thought of spending so much time with him.

Thad made a noise that was almost a groan. "Don't look at me like that," he said, huskily. "It makes me want to do all sorts of indecent things to you. Things that I know I'll regret."

When she merely smiled at this threat, and lifted her face, he pulled her roughly into his arms. "I was afraid of this," he muttered, as he started kissing her.

"Afraid of what?" she murmured, against his lips.

"That I wouldn't be able to stop, once I start touching you."

Within seconds, Rose perceived that last night's kiss had been merely a prelude – a deliberate attempt not to frighten her. This kiss….was something else entirely. Thankfully, she was apparently not required to do anything, but hold still. His assault on her lips, and, as the kiss deepened, on the velvety inside of her mouth, made her head spin even more than the brandy had done. It almost made her forget that she felt awkward, and inexperienced, and nervous. Almost - but not quite.

"We need to stop. Now," Thad murmured, all the while tightening his grip on the nape of her neck. Rose felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief when he finally pulled himself away.

"Let's ...go for a walk," he suggested, after he had taken several deep breaths. "I don't exactly trust myself to behave at the moment."

She laughed shakily, but allowed herself to be ushered out of the stable.

He led her around to the back, to the small trail that lead into the hills. She looked at their spot at the back of the stable wall, where they had so often gazed at the stars, and talked.

"Do you remember when we sat here?" she asked, softly. "That night, just before I left for Charleston?"

He smirked slightly. "Don't remind me. If I recall correctly, I was sweating blood that night."

She laughed in astonishment. "You did? I had no idea. You gave me a pretty speech about being too old now, to be alone with any men except for my brothers and father - but all I heard is that I must have done something wrong, and you no longer wished to spend time with me."

"Imagine the surprise of finding that your fourteen-year-old companion suddenly has a body like a woman."

She looked at him with half-raised eyebrows, and nodded. "I understand. That would have been …...disconcerting."

"Disconcerting isn't quite a strong enough word, Rose," Thad said, dryly. They were slowly wandering along a narrow path between several small horse pastures.

He could see the uncertainty in her smile, and stopped, so he was facing her. He grabbed a hold of the top bar of the wooden fence as if to steady himself. "Listen, Rosey," he murmured. "Seeing you so grown up, all of a sudden, was …. a bit of a shock to me, and I needed….. more time. Time to process my own reactions, and better prepare what I would say to you. That's all."

She leaned her back against the fence, not looking at him. "Would you have said anything?"

He didn't answer for a moment, and she was sure he would ignore her question. Then he sighed, the tip of his leather boot digging into the dust next to clusters of dandelions. "Why pretend? As you know all too well, my own mother owned a famous bordello in Atlanta for many years. What you perhaps don't know is that I played piano in saloons since the age of thirteen. Amongst prostitutes who tousled my hair, and chatted with me about their most bizarre clients. And the Mulatto community amongst which I moved wasn't exactly prudish when it came to matters of the body. Or ...relations between men and women."

He paused, raised his eyes, and watched the conflicting emotions play over her face – embarrassment, curiosity - but not, as he had feared, revulsion. "I've seen …..everything during those years, Rosey," he continued, slowly, his gaze fixed once more on the yellow dandelions at his feet. "It wasn't …an easy time, but I came out of it with a very firm understanding of my own boundaries, and what I did, and did not, want in my life. I had every intention of marrying you when you were old enough. But I had also anticipated there would be some difficult years for us, where you'd be physically a woman, but emotionally still a child - and that I would have to guard you, and myself - from any crossed wires. "

She listened carefully as he continued. "One of the most…..regrettable things I saw as a young boy were girls who were introduced to …. relationships too early. Often out of economic necessity, but not infrequently because they fancied themselves in love. While two fumbling fourteen-year-olds can probably not do too much damage to each other, there was nothing but darkness down that path for you and me. I couldn't do that to you, Rosey. I couldn't do it to myself. Can you understand that?"

She nodded, slowly.

"I'd intended to discuss it with you…..explain the need for chaperones, and why becoming a woman also means redefining your relationships to the men in your life. What I didn't expect is that your mother would whisk you off to Charleston before I'd have a chance to talk to you again." He smiled, but there was no mirth in his face. "I suspected your parents would not be much help. In fact, I've never understood how a man of your father's ….experience could pander to your mother's squeamishness in these matters. Virginal innocence may have its charms, but for all practical purposes, ignorance only leads to misunderstandings. And, as in most other areas of life - chimeras breed in the shadows cast by the absence of information."

Rose nodded again, thoughtfully. "You spent a lot of time with Mother at some point. Before I was born. In Colorado."

"Yes. A whole summer, in fact. I was ….heavens ….seventeen." His dark curls danced in the breeze as he shook his head. "Your mother must have been about twenty-eight. Twenty-nine at the most."

"What was she like?"

He thought for a moment. "Charming. Incredibly brave. Broken. At once very young, and very old for her age." He smiled at the memory of the fierce young woman who had battled illness, and heartbreak, and love lost, and emerged victorious in the end. "We spent a lot of time together, while your father was in Galveston, setting up the house. She was vivacious, and amusing. With a unique perspective on life. But she was also….. terribly naïve, even compared to the standards of her time. It mystified me - because she'd been through so much already. Not to mention having been married thrice." He looked at Rose. "It wasn't my place to do so, but your father should have enlightened her. Preferably right after they married. Perhaps even before. Yes, it wasn't the thing, but he rarely ever worried about propriety. Being more … open with her, might have saved him a lot of grief."

She smirked. "Such a discussion takes self-awareness, which he had …. and the willingness to expose yourself, which he did not. And for what it's worth, I fully agree. It's unfortunate that things happened the way they did, with them…and with us. Your …little speech was all I had to go on for many years. As you've said, Mother is still rather squeamish about those matters, and Daddy and I were still working on establishing basic trust. Left to my own devices, I'd quite decided that you found me unattractive, and that's why you pushed me away."

Thad laughed. She let the sound wash over her, drawing courage from its warmth. "And your being so much of a gentleman in the hallway contributed to the whole Cherry fiasco. I wasn't a little girl anymore, Thad. Not then. If you'd kissed me, I'd have known….."

He reached out, and tilted her chin back. "It wouldn't have stopped at kissing," he murmured, softly. "You were looking at me like you loved me, and were preparing to go to sleep only a few doors away. If I'd ceded my control for even an inch, I'm not sure what I would have done."

She smiled, attempting to inject some levity into the conversation. "All the more surprising that you didn't take advantage of the opportunity Cherry was offering."

He smirked, the solemnity gone from his gaze. "Tsk Tsk. What an improper thing to say to a gentleman. I see that education has entirely corrupted you, Dr. Rose. Just like they all say."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Go ahead. Tell me you weren't at least tempted," she teased.

"Of course I was tempted," he replied, dryly. "What do you think?"

"Wrong answer!" she pouted, arching her brows at him. She swung herself up on the fence, and dangled her legs. They were almost at a height, now. "You were supposed to tell me you weren't tempted at all!"

"Would you rather I lied to you?"

"Yes!" She sighed, shaking her head. "I mean, no. Not really. But..….."

Thad laughed. "Lust is like hunger, Rosey. It prefers certain dishes, but isn't discriminating in a pinch. When you're male, and young enough, you feel it's nearly always pinch time." She smiled, in spite of herself. "As you get older, you learn that stuffing yourself randomly usually results in a stomach ache. Ideally, your palate refines with your heart, along with your ability to control your impulses." He playfully pulled a long curl that had escaped the net that held the dark mass at the back. "Physical intimacy with someone you don't love is like eating sweets. Pleasurable, but not nourishing, and ultimately not satisfying."

Rose ducked her head. "I was… afraid," she whispered, finally. "I've never fully allowed myself to inhabit my body, because everyone …Daddy… seemed to think it was ….hers. Bonnie's, I mean. If that makes any sense at all. It was like being forced into a dress that the previous owner had left behind. A dead girl's dress." She shuddered, as if debating whether to continue. "Promise me you won't laugh," she warned. He shook his head. "I used to surreptitiously watch you move. And I saw exactly what it was I was missing. You always seem so….at home within yourself. And I was terrified I didn't have anything to offer you, when it came to …" She stopped. "So when ….you seemed to withdraw from me, I saw it as a confirmation of my deepest fears. That you ….saw it too, that what was wrong with me. That you wanted a real girl, instead."

He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, Rose. I had no idea. That was why you came into my room that night? To prove that yourself that you were …..real?" When she nodded, he winced visibly. "I sensed the change of tone in your letters …..the forced brightness, and the fake cheer. But instead asking myself why, I put it down to being in a new city, and courted by all those fine, well-born young men. And then my most damnable feature - my pride - kicked in. There's a reason why most theologians consider it the most deadly of sins. I told myself if I went to Charleston, and got a bellyful of you and your success, I might finally be able to move on with my life. Of course, I was deluding myself."

"So you aren't worried that…" She remembered her awkwardness, and her nervousness when he'd kissed her earlier.

He laughed. "That you aren't a real girl? No. You seem quite real to me."

She remained silent. "I'm sorry," he said, swiftly, meeting her gaze. "That was a rather …..misguided attempt at levity. What I meant is, Rosey …..even under the best of circumstances, these sorts of things take ….time. Men and women don't just fall into bed together on their wedding night, and are magically transported to an island of bliss. Learning to give each other pleasure is …. a process, that takes years. All I ever expected you to bring to the table – or our bed, for that matter - is love, honesty, and a willingness to explore what works for both of us."

"But…."

"No, I'm not at all worried that you're totally devoid of sensuality," he teased, with a grin that she heard in his voice. He held out his hand, and pulled her down from the fence, hugging her against his side. "It's there, and we will explore it together. Step by step."

She flushed, not yet brave enough to face the implications of his words. "So sure of your…skills?"

"Experience must be good for something." He tightened his hold, and she could feel him smiling again. "It's wonderfully soothing to my vanity, that our age difference might actually be advantageous in some respects. With your history, I'd hate for you to have fallen into the hands of an inexperienced boy who doesn't know what he is doing."

"Like Beau Wilkes?"

"Not exactly what I'd call a boy, but from my extensive conversations with him in Boston, I'd hardly qualify him as experienced when it comes to women." He stopped, then started again. "When I remember that he almost took you away from me, I want to kill him."

"I was heartbroken you were gone, and I felt myself to be irretrievably damaged. I thought ….I thought he wouldn't mind, how I was. Or how I thought I was."

"Heartbroken doesn't even describe how I felt when I learned you'd accepted another man's proposal one day after I left you. I was sure it meant you'd just been toying with me."

"I'm sorry. I know now how it must have looked."

He took a deep breath. "You've said. For what it's worth, it's much easier to forgot, now that I know you love me."

"More than anything in life," she whispered. "I thought you knew."

"To be quite honest – I did not know, until quite recently. Any more than you. And I don't think I'll tire of hearing it- or telling you, anytime soon."

"I feel …."

"Happy?" he supplied, softly.

"I think so," she smiled. "I haven't felt it for so long I hardly recognize it." She laid her head to the side. Now, she was ready. "Thad! All that you've said about…..you know…us…..does this mean that….."

He laughed. "Yes. I suppose I'll never get a better chance. Although I don't even have a ring with me. I guess this will have to do, for now." He knelt gracefully before her, and offered her one of the yellow dandelions. He was staring up at her. She felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. "Rose- you know I love you. Will you marry me?"

Rose took the flower. She couldn't see it clearly through the tears in her eyes. "Yes," she said, in a voice so low that he could hardly hear her.

He rose swiftly, and drew her into his arms. His soft lips kissed away her tears. "I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy," he whispered. It was a solemn vow, to her, to the wind over the meadows, and to the sunlight over the trees. He ran his thumbs over her cheeks, smiling into her April face. "And now that we're engaged, we're going to walk back to the house, very sedately, or I can't be held responsible for what will happen next."

"I thought you just told me how easily mature men master their impulses," she said, laughing once more through her tears. She felt as if she were floating.

"Lust, yes. Most men do learn to master lust at some point. Love …" He shook his head pessimistically. "Not at eighteen, and probably not even at eighty. Definitely not at my advanced age." He permitted himself a last kiss on her neck, before he gave her a light push. "Let's go home. I believe we all have to get ready for Houston."

~~oo~~

"Mother!" Perry said, excitedly, bursting into her room, his younger brothers at his heel. "We have to go to Mr. Griffin's house on Sunday!"

"Who's Mr. Griffin, love?" his mother said, distractedly. She was in the process of sifting through the mountain of clothes the boys had once again outgrown.

"The baker from the town," Perry informed her. "We're invited for tea!"

"The baker?" She held up a pair of pants, measuring it against Dan's long legs. "This one can definitely go to Gerry," she murmured to herself.

"Yes!"

"Why would we want to go to the baker's house for tea?" his mother enquired, not understanding a word of her son's diatribe, and not really paying attention.

"Perry wants to meet his daughter," Gerry supplied, helpfully.

Scarlett's hand arrested in mid-motion. "Perry wants to meet the baker's daughter for tea?"

"Uhhhh…..yes," Perry admitted. "Don't you remember? Her name's Stella. She's the one with the golden hair." There was no spark of recognition in his mother's emerald gaze. "She sings with Cousin Thad in Church," he prompted, helpfully. Vague recollection now flitted through Scarlett's eyes, but no understanding. "Can we go?" Perry repeated, urgently. "Please?"

Scarlett stared at him, comprehension finally dawning. "Perry! Do you mean you've accepted an invitation to tea on Sunday on my behalf, at the baker's house?"

"Well…..yes," her son said, confusedly. Minor matters - like social status - were entirely beyond him.

His mother sighed. Rhett warned me any sons of his would be trouble.

She watched the boys scamper off, and had to laugh. Rhett will be going, too, she thought, with some satisfaction. I will make sure of that.

She smiled more fully. Revenge would be sweet indeed.

Anon: Thanks for catching the typos! The hazards of insomnia, and writing much too late at night. :)