The silence that greeted his arrival was deafening.

If she had not been feeling quite so shaken, Scarlett would have laughed at the comical looks of shock sported by most of her fellow diners. Dr. Meade's mouth had fallen open so wide you'd have been forgiven for thinking it was Frank who had just walked in through the door.

As it was, Scarlett was too busy thinking up a way to extract herself from this awful mess of a situation to enjoy their bewilderment.

Beside her, Rhett was almost ludicrously calm, his hands clasped behind his back as he smiled down benignly at his fellow guests, most of whom were nervously avoiding his eye.

India looked like she'd been caught in the middle of swallowing a particularly sour lemon, her thin lips pursing up unattractively as she no doubt wondered how much of her earlier speech Rhett had been privy to. Scarlett almost pitied her, knowing the fearful regard that most people in this town held her husband in.

Like a wolf that has taken up residence amongst a pack of hounds, Rhett would forever be mistrusted by the rest of Atlanta, the underlying hint of savagery that clung to him like musk meaning that few were brave enough to risk getting on the wrong side of what they rightly suspected would be a formidable, vicious temper.

Scarlett only wished Rhett had arrived before India'd had a chance to question his whereabouts. That way, Scarlett would have been spared the need to explain away his absence, her paltry excuse looking like even more of a bald-faced lie now that he had turned up out of the blue.

'Oh, Ashley, you're back,' Melly - blissfully unaware of the growing tension - reappeared to say. 'And Uncle Henry, it's so lovely to see you! You're just in time, for dinner is almost ready to be served. If you all would be so good as to make your way to the dining...Why, Captain Butler! Forgive me, I did not see you there. How good of you to join us.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Wilkes. It's an honour to be invited into your fine home. I'm afraid it isn't much of a gift, but I did bring a bottle of wine for the table. I left it out in the hallway. Shall I retrieve it while everyone takes their seats?'

'Oh, Captain Butler, you are kind. You really needn't have gone to all that trouble.'

'It was no trouble, I assure you,' he said, flashing his most winning smile.

Scarlett scowled. She did not like to see him charming Melly, especially when he had only seen fit to look in her direction once since making his grand entrance.

She eyed Melanie with disdain as her friend - unused to receiving such blatant attention from a man - blushed crimson under the heat of his gaze.

Silly fool, she thought, doesn't she know better than to let a man see how affected she is by his flirtations?

Scarlett would be sure to treat Rhett coolly when he finally got around to flattering her. Not that he seemed in any rush. Watching him walk away without so much as a glance in her direction, Scarlett brushed off his neglect with a careless shrug and followed the other guests into the dining room.

Determined to keep to her earlier plan of securing a seat next to Pittypat, Scarlett stuck close to her aunt as they approached the table.

'Will you be so good as to lay another place, Dilcey?' Melly asked. 'Captain Butler has made it back in time to dine with us.'

'Where should I put him, Miss Melly?'

Out on the street with the other skunks, Scarlett fantasised about saying, biting down on her bottom lip to disguise her smile.

As her aunt took a seat next to Mrs. Meade, Scarlett sat down quickly on her other side. She hoped that Uncle Henry would take the vacant spot to her left, but resigned herself to the fact that it would most likely be kept free for Rhett.

Sure enough, Henry passed her by in favor of sitting on the other side of the table between Dr. Meade and Ashley, Melanie having added an extra place at the head for herself.

If the last-minute alteration to the seating plan had flustered her then Melanie took pains to hide it, performing the part of the gracious hostess in a way that Scarlett begrudgingly admired.

Turning to her best friend as the first course was brought out, Melanie inquired sweetly, 'Are you sure you are quite well, dear? I did so hate to think about you being all alone in that big house of yours. I was up half the night worrying about you.'

Gritting her teeth against the onslaught of Melanie's goodwill, Scarlett smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

'I'm fine, Melly, really I am. Please don't trouble yourself by thinking about it any longer. How is Beau doing?' Scarlett asked, finding herself in the novel position of wanting to divert the group's attention away from herself.

'You've been unwell?'

Glancing up, Scarlett saw that Rhett had entered the room and was regarding her with what looked suspiciously like genuine concern. Scarlett scowled. What right did he have to play the role of the doting husband when, for all he knew, she could have been at death's door this past fortnight? She had heard nothing from him since he'd left, not one single telegram to excuse his absence or to ask after her health. It was the least any halfway decent husband would have done.

Scarlett's eyes were cold when she answered him. 'It was nothing. I felt a little out of sorts for a day or two last week, but I'm quite recovered now.'

Reading the iciness of her tone, Rhett's concern evaporated and his face was carefully bland as he took his seat beside her. 'Still,' he drawled laconically, 'you should have at written to me if you were suffering some discomfort. I would have come straight home if only I had known.'

The swift, taunting glance he leveled her only added fuel to an already scorching fire. Scarlett gripped the edges of her seat to prevent herself from forcibly wiping the smug smile off his leering face with the back of her hand.

Why, you rotten, lying scallywag, she cursed. How she would relish sounding him out when they were alone! There was no man in the whole of creation who deserved to be taken down a peg or two as much as Rhett Butler.

'I would have written to you straight away, only you forgot to write down the address of your hotel, darling,' she simpered, before spitting out the last word like an unwanted pip from an unripe orange.

'I'm certain I did, darling,' he echoed, curling his tongue around the endearment in a way that would be better suited to Belle's saloon than the Wilkes' dining room. 'You must have mislaid it. An easy mistake to make in a house overflowing with so many interesting fripperies.'

Wounded by the slight to her decor - which any fool could see was the very height of fashion - Scarlett narrowed her eyes. 'No, you definitely didn't, darling. I'm not surprised you forgot. You did leave in such a terrible hurry. It felt like you barely even stopped to say goodbye.'

'Perhaps you just didn't hear me.'

'Or perhaps you-'

'Did you enjoy your time away, Captain Butler?'

Scarlett's neck snapped around to face Melly, shocked by the interruption. She couldn't remember Melanie ever doing that before.

Turning to his hostess for the evening, Rhett's smirk softened into a smile. 'I certainly did, Mrs Wilkes. New Orleans is always charming at this time of year and Wade made himself a firm new friend - not that anyone could come close to matching your Beau in his eyes, of course.'

An awful ache tore through Scarlett at the thought of Rhett visiting New Orleans without her. With the whole, wide world to choose from, why, oh why, did he have to go there?

'Did you conduct any business while you were there?' India piped up from her seat in the corner, her reedy voice cutting through the conversation like a bad smell.

'Business?' Rhett asked, frowning. 'No, it wasn't that kind of a trip.'

With her flimsy lies about to tumble around her like a house of cards, Scarlett did the only thing she could think of to salvage the situation. Sliding her hand underneath the tablecloth, she dug her nails sharply into the tender flesh of Rhett's inner thigh.

Flinching away from the pain, he jerked his head in her direction, shock and anger written across every line of his swarthy face. Scarlett threw him a desperate look, praying he would understand. Rhett's brow lightened as comprehension dawned and his expression became as smooth and slippery as glass.

He cleared his throat and continued on casually, with the air of a man who'd never been interrupted, 'I confess I did go with the intention of securing a rather large deal, but I was outbid at the last minute by an old rival of mine from the blockading days. A wily creature. If you met the man you would think him the meekest of all God's creatures but, in truth, he's a devil in dandy's clothing if ever I did see one.'

Scarlett sagged back into her chair, thanking the Lord that, for all his many flaws, Rhett could at least be counted on to always get them out of a tight spot.

She was considering whether or not to throw a triumphant smirk in India's direction when Dr. Meade's next words broke through her gloating and brought her back down to earth with a bump.

'That's hardly a surprise. If you ask me, every last blockader is nothing more than a thieving charlatan. Swanning around pretending to help the Glorious Cause when in truth they were lining their own pockets with the fruits of its demise.'

Perfect, thought Scarlett, all we need now is for him to start droning on about that damn war again. Haven't we suffered enough?

'Ah, but is it theft or foresight?' Rhett asked innocently. 'After all, it's usually during times of destruction that the ripest pickings fall directly into your lap. You can hardly blame a man for picking them up. I'd argue that those who didn't take advantage of such a boon only have their own lack of ambition to blame for their current poverty.'

Scarlett watched Dr. Meade's Adam's apple bob up and down in his scrawny throat like a cat struggling to escape a cloth sack. Perhaps she would have been better off staying at home with a book, after all.

As Dr. Meade put down his knife and fork and began a long, exceedingly dull rant about the unforgivable insolence of Rhett's opinion, Scarlett felt herself dozing off. Scanning drooping eyes around the table, she took in Melly's polite interest, India's nodding approval, and Mrs. Meade's despondent look of long-suffering forbearance. Eventually, and somewhat inevitably, her gaze latched upon Ashley. He was sitting rigidly in his seat, his thin-lipped expression an unflattering replica of his sister's earlier grimace.

It was obvious he didn't approve of the Doctor's tirade, yet he did not say a word against it. Scarlett wondered why he didn't speak up. It was his roof they were sitting under and so it naturally fell to him to ensure that the dinner ran smoothly.

Most likely he was too gentlemanly to risk causing offence to either party, but Scarlett could not help wishing he'd cast his good manners aside, just this once. Surely it was more harmful to let such uncomfortable, mean-spirited conversation carry on unchecked?

Scarlett took no pleasure in thinking ill of Ashley and wondered if she shouldn't try and help him out. But how to speak to him without alerting the rest of the guests? She thought of how she'd managed to silently convey a message to Rhett minutes earlier. Ashley was sitting too far away to tap on the leg, but perhaps she could tap his foot under the table.

That way she could silently instruct him to do something to get Dr. Meade to hush up. For if Rhett had been able to grasp her meaning from a mere look, then surely Ashley, with his superior understanding of her mind and soul, would be able to do the same?

Inching her foot along the carpet, she bumped against the cool, supple leather of his shoe. When Ashley failed to look up, Scarlett pressed further forward, sliding down in her seat as she tapped on his toes with her heel. Still no reaction. Scarlett pressed down harder, but Ashley didn't so much as twitch. Growing frustrated, Scarlett ground her heel into his foot.

'Ouch! What in heaven's name...' Uncle Henry exclaimed, flipping up the tablecloth and bending down to peer underneath.

Mortified, Scarlett sprang back up in her seat. She jumped when her hand, still lying thoughtlessly between Rhett's thighs, was suddenly picked up and encircled by large, rough fingers.

'What are you playing at, Scarlett?' Rhett hissed, bending his head close to hers under the pretence of picking up his glass of wine.

'Why were you so desperate to get his attention?' he demanded, just as Melly asked, 'What's the matter, Uncle?'

'Something grabbed my foot,' Uncle Henry said, his voice partially muffled as he was still bending down to look under the table. 'It was a sharp sort of pinch, almost like something was trying to bite me.'

'A rat!' shrieked Pittypat, leaping from her seat. 'It must be a rat! Peter caught one in my chicken coop just the other day. As big as a house cat, it was. Dirty, hairy thing. It must have run over here after he tried to kill it.'

'I wasn't,' Scarlett whispered, using the commotion to cover her words. 'I don't know what touched Uncle Henry...'

'Uncle Henry,' Rhett scoffed, squeezing down on her hand until her knuckles ground up against each other. 'Don't lie to me. We both know you were reaching for Ashley. Why? What secrets do the two of you share? Tell me!'

'I wasn't, Rhett,' she lied, trying to free her hand from his crushing grip.

'Oh, Melly,' Aunt Pitty wailed, 'how could you invite me over knowing your house is infested! I shan't be able to sleep tonight for fear of one crawling up the bedpost and attacking me.'

'Oh, would you be quiet, you foolish woman!' Uncle Henry roared, never one to abide his sister's nervous fits for long. 'No creature in its right mind would want to creep into your bed. There is no rat under the table. It must have been a muscle spasm. I apologise for upsetting everyone.'

'There's no need to be sorry, Uncle,' Melanie assured him. 'Do you want me to fetch your smelling salts, Aunty?'

'Tell me,' Rhett growled.

'Please let go,' Scarlett pleaded, clawing at the back of his hand with her free one. 'You're hurting me.'

Rhett dropped her hand as if it had burnt him. Kicking his chair away, he sprang to his feet. 'Please, Miss. Melly, stay and enjoy your meal. I'll fetch Pittypat's salts.'

'Oh no, I couldn't let you...' Melly started to protest, her words falling away to silence when Rhett strode out.

Eyes watering, Scarlett did not turn to watch him go. Staring down at the table, she realised she had yet to touch her meal. Picking up her fork, she toyed with it idly, her appetite long gone.

Beside her, Pittypat was being patiently encouraged to sit back down and finish her food. Scarlett flinched when Rhett reappeared. She saw him stiffen at her reaction, a sharp breath leaving his body like it had been punched from his chest. When he leant over to place Pitty's smelling salts on the table, Scarlett was shocked to see his hand was trembling.

As he took his seat next to her, the conversation thankfully moved on to safer ground. Ashley and Uncle Henry began to speak of the latest political reforms while Mrs. Meade regaled Melly and Pittypat with a tale of an irate customer who had complained to Mrs. Merriweather after finding a tooth in one of her pies.

'Surely not!' cried Melanie in alarm while, to Scarlett's right, Aunt Pittypat looked like the shocking news may well trigger yet another fainting spell. 'Whatever did she do?'

'You know old Dolly, she's as tough as they come and I pity the poor man who went up against her. According to Mrs. Elsing, who heard it from Maybelle, who got it from Grandpa Merriweather, she flat out refused to give him a refund. She said it must have been his own tooth that had fallen into the pie and he was probably too much of a dullard to notice it was missing.'

Distracted from her low mood, Scarlett considered how nice it was to hear someone else speak about old battleaxe Merriweather in less than glowing terms. Sometimes she forgot that Mrs. Meade wasn't nearly so much of a pompous old fuddy-duddy as her husband and that, were it not for their difference in ages, she might even have been friends with the woman.

As if overhearing her thoughts, Mrs. Meade turned her attention towards Scarlett and said conspiratorially, 'I don't think Dolly's been in so much of a state since Scarlett here tore into her for daring to suggest that Captain Butler hadn't served in the army.'

Unused to being complimented by any woman save Melly, Scarlett bristled at the comment, taking it for a criticism. Something about the small, twinkling glance the older lady flashed her soothed Scarlett's ruffled feathers and caused her to smile tentatively back.

To Scarlett's left, Rhett had gone deathly quiet, cutting off halfway through a knowing monologue on the benefits of trying to look amenable to the new Republican rule.

Beneath the table, she felt him reach for her sore hand. Scarlett pulled back, fearing he meant to hurt her again. The fingers stopped dead, Rhett's whole body becoming taut, before he exhaled slowly and reached out for her once more.

With a level of gentleness she'd thought impossible for a man so strong, he picked her hand up, cradling it in both of his. Rhett trailed his fingertips across the delicate skin of her wrist and up the back of her hand, softly sweeping his thumb across her aching knuckles. He's apologising, she thought, surprised to realise that she too could read him just fine without words.

Mrs. Meade cleared her throat, tearing Scarlett from her stupor. Realising that most of the table was waiting for her response, Scarlett swallowed thickly and smiled.

'Her face did go a rather worrying shade of purple when I told her she was wrong.'

Mrs. Meade laughed the laugh of a woman finally getting one over on an old adversary. 'Of that, I have no doubt! Did you really tell her that you'd still have wanted to marry Captain Butler even if he'd fought for the Yankees?'

Scarlett blushed, remembering her outburst. 'I did.'

Mrs. Meade beamed. 'I'm surprised that didn't finish her off altogether!'

Dimly, Scarlett was aware of the other diners' reactions. Of Melanie and Uncle Henry's good-natured laughter, Ashley and India's matching frowns and Pittypat's nervous intake of breath.

Yet, for all her awareness, none of their responses could touch her. She was too caught up in studying the open, searching look Rhett was giving her.

Underneath the table, his thumb had stopped its stroking, his grip growing tight. Scarlett was seized by the notion that were it not for the confines of their current surroundings, he would have taken great pleasure in drawing her much closer still.

Scarlett was confused by the depth of his response to such a small event. She had long since forgotten about her encounter with Mrs. Merriweather and would never have thought to share it with Rhett if Mrs. Meade hadn't broached the subject.

As the servants cleared away their plates, Rhett surprised her again by twisting her hand around so that it lay flat along the thick line of his thigh, her palm facing upwards.

Circling her wrist with one hand, he took his index finger and began to trace a pattern upon her open palm.

It took her a few moments to realize that this wasn't just some idle doodle. He was trying to write something on her skin. A secret message passed from him to her away from the prying eyes and gossiping tongues of their fellow guests.

Shutting her eyes, Scarlett concentrated on trying to decipher his meaning, a tremor running through her when she finally understood what it was he was trying to say:

THANK YOU

And THANK YOU for all your lovely responses to this reworked fic so far. I'm so enjoying being back. Let me know what you think of the changes to this chapter. Were the failed footsy and rat attack too farcical, or is a bit more humour something you'd like to see going forward? Good or bad, I'd love to know.