Three weeks later

Lunch had long since come and gone by the time Scarlett resolved the latest dispute with the drapers. As she marched out of the building with an empty stomach and a troubled mind, she could not help thinking that, had she known quite how stressful organising a crush would be, she would never have decided to hold one in the first place.

Almost every waking moment since she'd begun arranging it had been filled with one problem or another. Had she not been so determined to see her fantasy come to life, even her famously iron will would have melted under the constant strain of mistakes and ill-judged decisions it threw up.

Even this morning's meeting with the drapers, meant to last thirty minutes at most, had uncovered enough issues to ensure that the appointment had run over by several hours. Rhett had only arranged for them to come to the house at the last minute, thinking Scarlett might like to look over their choice of fabrics, and it was a damn lucky job that he had.

Despite having been given the clearest of instructions, the so-called professionals had somehow managed to botch the entire order. Instead of the opulent silk tablecloths Scarlett had requested, they had presented her with a rough, cotton-like material dyed the colour of dirty dishwater. To make matters worse, rather than the beautiful red velvet canopy she had envisioned for the verandah, they had selected some thick black canvas thing, so ugly Scarlett would have been ashamed to wrap her rubbish in it, let alone her darling house.

After five minutes spent frantically trying to push down her rising panic, Scarlett had composed herself enough to berate them. Screaming about their utter incompetence, she had threatened to badmouth their establishment from here to Clayton County if they didn't fix everything within twenty-four hours.

Not trusting them to carry out the task unaided, she had demanded that they take her to their store and show her their range of materials. It had taken some doing, but she'd finally managed to find ones that just about resembled the images she'd so lovingly nurtured in her head.

Though that particular snag had been ironed out, Scarlett was far from reassured. She couldn't help but think that the owner of the store had acted strangely when she'd made him promise that everything would be delivered to her door on the morning of the crush. Sure, he'd nodded his head in the right places and made vague grunts of assent while she'd spoken, but there had been something about the way he'd refused to meet her eye that had unnerved her.

If it had been an isolated incident, Scarlett probably wouldn't have noticed, but a similar thing had happened at virtually every establishment she'd done business with. Not one tradesperson would hold her gaze, and many looked downright uncomfortable when assuring her that everything would arrive on time and as ordered.

It worried her to be met with such behaviour at every turn. At first, she'd waved it off as a mark of respect. Yet as time went on, Scarlett had begun to wonder if there wasn't another, less flattering reason behind their nervous, shifty expressions.

Try as she might, though, Scarlett had been unable to uncover the actual cause, and there was precious little time left to worry about it now. The crush was set to take place tomorrow evening, and all the decorations, for better or for worse, were to be delivered at exactly ten o'clock that morning.

Thinking about how soon the party would be upon her, Scarlett could not believe how quickly the last few weeks had passed. A near-constant cycle of ordering items, finding fault with them, arguing with the stores responsible, and having to reorder everything only to find the replacements to be lacking in some different way had kept her incredibly busy. Even her attention to her beloved businesses, usually at the very forefront of her mind, had slipped back so far as to become almost nonexistent.

She had not set foot inside the store in over three weeks, and it was longer still since she had last had the pleasure of visiting the mills. For all the excitement surrounding the crush, Scarlett missed both businesses greatly and was looking forward to the moment when she would be able to put all this madness behind her and step back into her old life.

The thought of crossing the threshold of Ashley's office and feeling the warmth of his loving gaze fall over her was so potent it was almost unbearable. It had been so long since she had last seen him, and their continued separation was beginning to take its toll.

She missed his elegance, so different from Rhett's masculine brawn, his knowing, dreamy gaze, and his beautiful, blond hair. She missed the way he looked at her, the way his measured words fell so delicately upon her ear, and the way her whole being seemed to lift up and float weightlessly around any room she was fortunate enough to share with him.

She had often been tempted to shrug off her obligations and head over to the mills, only to lose her nerve before she could order Pork to saddle up the horses. It was not a reluctance to see Ashley that prevented her from going, never that, but rather the thought of how dearly her crush would suffer if she were to neglect her responsibilities.

And she needed the crush to be a success to win his admiration. She recalled bitterly the last big gathering they had attended together, a party in which Ashley had declared Melanie to be a more suitable spouse than Scarlett. How wonderful it would be to see him stand corrected. To force him to recognise their compatibility where once he had focused only on their differences.

She had not been lying that night in the study when she'd said she wasn't planning the party for Ashley's benefit. Yet, she could not deny that after Rhett had planted the thought in her head, it had taken up root there.

When she'd received his and Melanie's note to say they planned to attend, Scarlett had cried out loud in joy, consumed by a fit of girlish excitement the likes of which she had not experienced since before the war. Clutching the paper tightly to her chest, she had spun blissfully around the empty room, only stopping when Mammy had knocked on the door and asked her what on earth had gotten into her.

Certainly some madness must have overtaken her, for she would gladly watch every other person in town turn up their noses at her cherished house if only she could guarantee that Ashley would look upon it favourably.

Ashley and Melanie's acceptance letter had been the first to arrive. After that, a slow, but increasingly steady, stream of them had come in. Scarlett had been relieved, for Rhett had repeatedly cautioned her that not all of their neighbours would agree to come. He'd repeatedly told her not to feel too downhearted if she ended up receiving fewer replies than she'd been expecting. How good it felt to prove him wrong!

In all the commotion, though, Scarlett had not failed to notice that one invitation had gone unanswered. An invitation whose recipient had the power to elevate her crush far beyond the paltry realms of common parties.

As much as Scarlett disliked Republican rule, having the governor in attendance would add some much-needed gravitas to the evening. Sometimes, she wondered if she had forgotten to write out his invitation or if it had fallen out of the pile on her desk and been thrown away by a servant. As much as she would have liked to believe such explanations, deep down she knew that they weren't true.

After the Wilkes', Mr. Bullock's invitation had been the first she'd written. Scarlett had taken great care to place his envelope right at the top of the pile when she gave them to Rhett to deliver.

Later, in bed, she'd questioned him about it endlessly.

'You took it to the front door of his offices?'

'Yes.'

'And gave it directly to his assisstant?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't just hand it over to some clerk?'

'No.'

'Because a clerk-'

'Could lose it, yes. Don't worry, I vividly remember the ten minute lecture you gave me before I left.'

'And you didn't leave it on the porch where it could blow away?'

'No, for you reminded me repeatedly of that danger in said lecture.'

'And you're certain you delivered it to the correct place?'

'I was hardly likely to forget the address given the amount of times you read it out to me,' he'd said dryly on her tenth time of asking.

He'd begun running his hand down her back, his fingers stroking back and forth, back and forth, until she had scarcely been able to remember her own name, let alone any lingering concerns over the guest list.

Scarlett shivered to recall what had happened next, before flushing a burning red when she recalled where she was.

Casting a panicked eye at the other people on the street, she was glad when no one stared back in dismay. A smartly dressed man even caught her eye and shot her an admiring look. The instincts of a belle resurfacing, Scarlett smiled back coquettishly until her brain caught up and she gasped in recognition.

Rhett had introduced her to this man a few months ago when they'd been out walking. Thomas, was it? Or Turner? No, Taylor. Mr. Taylor. That was it. With a penchant for strutting around town with his nose in the air, he wasn't easy to miss.

Nothing about his conversation with Rhett that day had endeared him to Scarlett. Stares into the mirror too long, that one, as Mammy would disapprovingly say. Not that she had given him much attention, more interested in looking in the shop windows than listening to her husband and some stranger drone on about politics. She'd heard just enough to know who he worked for, though.

'Mr. Taylor,' she called, adopting her most winning smile as she hurried to catch up with him.

'Mrs. Butler,' he said, bowing deeply before taking her hand and kissing it wetly. Scarlett winced, wishing Rhett was around to lend her his handkerchief. Scarlett marvelled at the way a career in politics never failed to make oily weasels out of even the most outwardly decent-looking of men.

'What a coincidence it is to run into you,' she simpered. 'I was thinking about you only moments ago.'

'Were you indeed?' he smirked, raising his thin eyebrows suggestively. 'And what, pray tell, did your thoughts consist of?'

Scarlett giggled falsely, her eyes gleaming in a way Rhett would have aptly likened to those of a cat who's spotted an unsuspecting mouse in its path. 'I was thinking what a shame it is that you and Governor Bullock have decided to decline our invitation.'

'Invitation?' he asked eagerly. 'What invitation?'

'The one that my husband delivered to Mr. Bullock's offices a few weeks ago. It invited you both to our upcoming crush.'

'I'm afraid that I don't remember any such letter.'

Scarlett frowned; that couldn't be right. Rhett had promised her that he'd delivered it. He was good friends with Rufus Bullock, so what reason would he have to lie? There must have been a misunderstanding.

Keen to get to the bottom of it, Scarlett grew more cunning. 'Oh, how odd. He told me he'd handed it directly to Mr. Bullock's right-hand man. Forgive me, but that is you, is it not?'

'Why, indeed it is, my dear lady,' he said, puffing himself up like one of Aunt Pittypat's beloved barnyard roosters. 'Governor Bullock relies on me totally. My duties often see me called out of the office on important business, though, and I'm afraid my assistant is rather second rate. He's the eldest son of one of Rufus' more influential acquaintances. You know the sort. Big on family connections, short on brains. No doubt he mislaid the invitation. When did you say your party was?'

'Tomorrow night.'

Mr. Taylor frowned. 'Tomorrow night? That's rather short notice, I'm afraid. The governor has an evening meeting he won't be able to get out of-'

'But, surely you could persuade him to come by after his meeting?' Scarlett cajoled sweetly. 'Governor Bullock sets such store by your opinion, and my husband would be forever in your debt if you were to encourage him to attend.'

Mr. Taylor's eyes flashed at the prospect of having Rhett owe him a favour. 'I wouldn't usually, but for you, my dear Mrs. Butler, I shall do everything I can.'

'Thank you, Mr. Taylor,' she demurred. 'We won't forget your kindness.'

With a conspiratorial nod, Mr. Taylor bowed in farewell and continued on up the street, leaving a self-satisfied Scarlett standing in his wake.

Ha! Who needed men? Thanks to her, the problems created by both the drapers and Rhett's incompetence had been resolved, and now the crush looked set to be a smashing success.

Scarlett decided to reward herself by calling in at the store on her way home. Both her staff and profit margins would benefit from Scarlett stopping by. She only wished she had time to visit the mills, but it was already getting on for two in the afternoon, and she would need to go home soon to eat her severely delayed lunch.

All hopes of looking over the books were swiftly curtailed, however, the moment she stepped through the front door. Happy cries of 'Mother!' and the feel of two small bodies careening into her skirts put paid to any chance of getting some actual work done.

'Hello, children,' she said through gritted teeth, patting Wade and Ella's heads as her eyes roamed the store for her husband.

She spotted Rhett at the back of the room, his head bent low as he spoke with Mrs. Elsing. What those two had to say to one another she did not know, for the latter had held a vicious grudge against Rhett ever since he'd publicly called attention to her unmistakably flat chest.

They seemed to be getting along suspiciously well at the moment, though. Mrs. Elsing, never one to openly display any interest if she could possibly help it, was nodding along enthusiastically as Rhett spoke.

If she had walked in on the scene a month ago, Scarlett would have been shocked, but recently Rhett had been going out of his way to charm the very people he'd once crossed the street to avoid. She did not know what had prompted his change of heart. Rhett's answers had been as cryptic as ever when she'd questioned him, nor would he explain any of the other changes she'd noticed in him.

He'd been showing a far greater interest in family life recently. Rhett had always been very close to the children, but now he had started encouraging Scarlett to join in with their games. Whether it was reading them stories, taking them for walks around the neighbourhood, or going out for afternoon trips to the park, Scarlett had spent more time with Wade and Ella in these last few weeks than she had in all the years preceding them.

All the interaction was beginning to grate on Scarlett's nerves, especially as her days were already full to bursting thanks to the constant demands of the crush.

It hadn't all been bad. The children behaved better in Rhett's presence, and it was nice to see that Wade and Ella were now capable of speaking to her without blushing beet red or stammering through every other sentence.

Still, after months of skirting around each other like four strangers who just happened to live under the same roof, it felt mighty strange to suddenly act like a doting family.

Only half listening as Wade and Ella fought to be the first to tell her about their day, Scarlett watched as Rhett finally finished his conversation and headed over.

'My dear,' he drawled, reaching down to plant a kiss upon her cheek. 'I was hoping you'd stop by the store after finishing up with the drapers. The children and I felt terrible about you missing your lunch, so we decided we'd all come and collect you before going back home to eat together.'

'Thank you,' she said, both genuinely touched by their concern and greatly relieved that they hadn't come to ask her to walk around that damn park again. It was dull enough at the best of times, but on an empty stomach it would be nothing short of dire.

Rhett smiled, his dark eyes alight. 'Well, that was the initial plan. I'm afraid one of us may have gotten a trifle peckish and gobbled up a slice or two of Lou's cake before we left.'

Scarlett looked down as both children scrambled to blame the other, unable to hold in her laughter when she spotted the telltale crumbs coating Wade's bottom lip. It pleased her to know that her son wasn't quite as innocent as he appeared. Perhaps there was a bit more O'Hara blood lurking in Charles' miniature than she'd assumed.

Allowing them to usher her out of the store without a fuss, Scarlett turned to Rhett. 'What were you speaking to Mrs. Elsing about?'

'Nothing that would interest you, my pet,' he said smoothly, averting his eyes.

Scowling at his evasive answer, Scarlett bit down on the desire to tell him about her encounter with Mr. Taylor. If Rhett was allowed to have secrets, then so was she. Besides, she reasoned, it would be more satisfying to watch his mouth fall open in surprise when Rufus Bullock walked through their door tomorrow night. How pleased Rhett would be to see his friend mingling amongst the other guests. And how shocked her neighbours would be!

Tomorrow, Scarlett thought with pride, is shaping up to be a very memorable night.