If Scarlett had been privy to Rhett and Henri's firm convictions regarding her infatuation with Albert, she would probably have been more confused than amused by the idea, especially in Rhett's case, who should have known her better.
The Duke and she hadn't exchanged a word since his faux pas, and he certainly seemed to be keeping his distance due to wounded pride or civil consideration. But Scarlett was far from seeking his attention and thought more often about his horse than about him. Yet, she didn't feel any resentment against Albert either. It would have been ridiculous, especially on the grounds of protecting a virtue she had never cared that much for to begin with.
Until her marriage with Rhett, Scarlett had never understood why men were so interested in being with a woman and why any woman would be glad to be on the receiving end of that interest. And even with him, true moments of passion had been scarce, and most times so indelibly linked to horrible feelings that it was difficult to separate the ecstasy from the pain. She couldn't lie to herself, she missed that embrace. She had delighted in her power over a man impossible to tame and relinquished her own strong will in those moments of madness. But the price to pay for that bliss had been extortionate, and she could no longer afford it.
It was not only because of her pride, which of course was an important part of it. She had begged Rhett! Literally begged for his love, her face covered in tears, lying at his feet, and he had rejected her brutally, many times. Scarlett would never put herself in that position of humiliating weakness again, for him or anyone else. Her heart was guarded, and she had never had a propensity for sentimentality anyway; it wasn't in her character.
Even looking back at her childish infatuation with Ashley, she knew she had never abandoned herself to that feeling. She was far too ruthless and scheming for that. She had been stubborn as a mule, that was the truth of it. She had chosen him over all her suitors just because she couldn't have him, never bothering to even see him, enamored with her own fantasy of them together. She had opened the gates to her heart just once, for Rhett, and she wouldn't willingly open them again except for her children, who more than deserved their place there after so many years of neglect.
But it was not only his embrace that she had missed. She realized it now in Paris: other than Melly, Rhett was probably her best friend in this world, which was laughable and sad at equal parts.
She had learned to love Henri in a way that would never be enough for him, she knew, but it was precious to her. She had thought him brash at first, but he had proven a real friend in times of need, and she could never repay him for helping Ella break out of her shell. And Camille—she loved Camille so much too. There were moments of laughter with him at a café, at a ball, or lounging by the Seine where she felt young again, as she had felt when flirting with the Tarleton twins a lifetime ago, without a care in the world.
Yet, all that was nothing compared to the intimacy Scarlett still had with Rhett. She had met him when she was still a child, and she had remained a child for most of their acquaintance—to her disgrace. They had shared so many moments: brutal, romantic, humorous. Happy? Had they ever enjoyed happy moments together? Maybe when Bonnie was born, she wasn't sure. In any case, it was during the most turbulent moments of their relationship where they had felt closer.
They could understand each other with just a look when neither of them put on a barrier, which didn't happen frequently. If only Scarlett could trust Rhett with her most intimate thoughts as she could trust him with her wardrobe. Even not being on the best of terms, they had put their differences aside to visit some shops shortly after their reunion, and what a wonderful moment it had been.
After so many months of refining her tastes in Paris, Scarlett had thought herself pretty adept at looking to her advantage, but she had been wrong. Rhett seemed to know exactly what could be most flattering, and unlike Scarlett, he didn't blindly follow the rules that the current fashion dictated; he could anticipate what would soon be worn and how.
"I fear corsets are coming back, Scarlett. And then your happy times in the Boulangerie will come to an abrupt end," he had considered while she twirled around happily in a red bustle dress, all ruffles and pleats and laces. The neckline was a bit too revealing for daytime, even if trimmed with ribbons, or so she had thought. But Rhett had patiently explained that it was nothing that couldn't be solved with a velvet choker.
"Oh, Rhett. Now you are being odious for no reason!" she had protested, stopping the motion.
Scarlett had brought a hand to her mouth, worrying that she had gone too far in their playful banter and the whole moment would be ruined.
"I only have your best interests in mind, as usual," he had bowed. "And now you look exactly right," he had added appreciatively. "You can wear rouge comme il faut."
Scarlett had smiled; she was no longer scared of looking like Solange. She had taken a good look at herself in the big oval mirror in front of them and had been convinced her grandmother would have no reason to blush about her, neither.
"And now Scarlett, you are being vain. But don't stop, it has always become you."
He had laughed. She loved that laugh; it had none of the horrible, heartbreaking sadness of so many of his laughs towards the end of their marriage. How much Rhett must have suffered, how little she had understood him then. And even now...
Rhett had frowned.
"Something wrong?" he had asked.
"I was just distracted," Scarlett had lied. And then she had readjusted her hat, Rhett had dismissed all bonnets in the shop as too matronly, so its frills could cover her gaze.
That shopping day could have summarized all their interactions lately: banter, lies, and a firm determination on both sides to hide what they really thought.
It was so exhausting for Scarlett to put on a façade every time they met, that a part of her wished he were already gone. She couldn't bring herself to leave Paris, or even the Grand Hotel, for her children's sake. This forced her to live in close quarters with someone she would have preferred to avoid for her peace of mind. So, sometimes when she felt too anxious, she borrowed one of Henri's horses and rode in Bois de Vincennes in the mornings, avoiding Boulogne out of deference towards the Duke.
She could have saved herself the trouble. In the first week of December, a whole month after the arrival of Captain Butler in Paris, Scarlett crossed paths with Albert again, and there was no pretense on his side that he hadn't sought her out. He had patiently waited for her next to the hippodrome that week, morning after morning, as he calmly explained when she expressed her surprise about the coincidence.
Scarlett shook her head; it was the kind of stupid thing she would have done for Ashley before. Yet, she appreciated his honesty.
"You are not a romantic, Scarlett?"
Scarlett dismounted to approach him.
"It has never been of use to anyone," she stroked the Andalusian horse's head. "Hello, princess."
"Duquesa," he corrected. "Duchess."
Scarlett smiled despite herself.
"So, I guess I have joined the ranks of your long list of doved-eyed rejected suitors?" the Duke asked.
"Have you?" Scarlett asked in turn, raising her head to meet his eye.
It felt so good to speak in clear terms for once. It was probably not proper or kind to do so, but she had no energy left for niceties and lies, and she knew he would also appreciate it.
Albert sighed and dismounted.
"Well, the rejection was obvious."
They left the horses outside and occupied some seats in the empty hippodrome. There was no race that day, and even if there had been one, probably neither of them would have cared that much about it. But the benches provided a safe enough place to discuss their affairs in public.
After some minutes of comfortable silence, Scarlett remembered how at peace she felt whenever Albert was around and that she had indeed missed him. She felt almost the need to apologize for her past behavior, even if he had been the one at fault.
"There was no need to keep your distance after..." she said, unsure of how to finish the sentence or even of what she wanted to say.
"I wasn't mad or weeping, if that's what you are thinking," he came to her rescue. "To be honest, I was just considering what could be a better angle, but then Captain Butler arrived. It didn't seem judicious to keep pursuing you then."
She understood the implications of his words; there was no other way to interpret them, and she found it slightly aggravating that he could talk so openly about such delicate matters. She was quickly regretting her wish for honesty in conversations; it felt now like a curse. Nothing in her upbringing or her long-standing position as Clayton County's inveterate flirt had prepared her for that kind of situation. She had heard before that French lovers could be very forward, but her knowledge or experience in Spanish lovers was lacking, and it was showing. The mere thought made her blush, which was ridiculous for a divorcée.
He was gentleman enough not to laugh and considerate enough to not look at her during her confusion. It was one of those sunny, clear days in winter where everything under their eyes seemed to glow gently, and it was excuse enough for his eyes to wander into the landscape instead of focusing on such a fine lady as Scarlett O'Hara blushing was.
She still didn't know what had prompted him to seek her, but she felt obliged to say the truth:
"I won't change my mind."
"I know."
It seemed an impasse, another impossible situation. She was getting tired of those. But during their acquaintance, she had always considered him a very reasonable man, and on those grounds, she would give him a bit more time to explain before leaving.
"I think maybe I misunderstood Captain Butler's character or intentions. We had briefly met a long time ago; he was then talked about as a very daring, kind of dangerous gambler. I presumed him to be bolder or..."
"More interested," Scarlett thought. She had also wondered almost every day about that exact same thing. The Rhett he knew, had he wanted her back, would have already acted. There was no obstacle; there should be no doubt in his mind of Scarlett's preference, not when a year ago she had been still relentlessly pursuing him. In her mind, there were only two explanations for his presence in Paris and his behavior.
Perhaps he felt old, as he had said, and had wanted for Scarlett and her children to be in better terms. It was a wish he had expressed many times in the past, and if he was still trying to make his peace with Bonnie's loss, as Scarlett was, it only seemed suitable, and honorable, to contribute to the happiness of Wade and Ella instead.
The other explanation, far more likely, was that he didn't entertain any serious intention towards her. He was just being his usual curious, mischievous self, and realizing she was cutting ties with him otherwise, he had come to have a glimpse of her new life and remind her that it was impossible to escape from Rhett Butler if he didn't allow it.
In the first case, he didn't love her, and his intentions were good. In the second case, he didn't love her, and his intentions were bad, but not as bad as if he had tried to seduce her in the presence of her estranged children, which would have been awful, even for Rhett.
"I have never seen Rhett renounce anything he wanted," Scarlett confirmed.
"The forceful kind..." Albert looked at her. "I won't force it. But I would be good to you, Scarlett. I know you don't care about the money," he corrected himself with a smile. "You don't care that much. You already have plenty. Do you care about the title? If you want it, you can also have it."
Scarlett raised her eyebrows. A complete image of splendid gowns and tiaras, official portraits and reverence appeared in front of her. And Duquesa, of course, and her sons and daughters if she wanted. She had to make a conscious effort to dispel the image and see the man behind it. His features were unusually animated, like the morning he had kissed her. She could feel now the internal tension he usually hide from the world; there was nothing polite or delicate on that face. He was definitely interesting, more than she had thought before. He was also kind; he could listen. But he wasn't Rhett.
She knew he knew, but it was important to say it aloud.
"It wasn't only because I didn't want to become your mistress."
"I know what it is now, and it can't be anything else unless you decide to leave him behind. Scarlett, a life as a duchess wouldn't be easy. I would have preferred to spare you from it. There are so many obligations, the scrutiny, and the expectations can be sometimes unbearable. They still are for me, and I have suffered them all my life. I wouldn't be able to shield you from everything. I'm acting against my better judgment; it has always been the case with you. I'm not even sure I'm acting in your best interest either. It's so easy to fool oneself and think you are acting right when you want something so much... Realities and wishes all get mixed up. I would regret not doing everything in my hand now, no matter the consequences. I'm talking such nonsense... If it's impossible, if you truly believe it..."
Albert took her hands. There was such yearning, such a desperate plea in his eyes, that it was impossible for her to not reciprocate some of that feeling. It was warm and caring, and when the Duke asked her permission to court her, Scarlett surprised him and herself by kissing him. A kiss soft and gentle, timid, as she had always thought a first kiss should be. She wouldn't wait for any man to kiss her anymore.