When Scarlett next woke it was mid-morning. The sun was already high up in the sky, beaming in through the open window and burning a white-hot square of light onto the bedspread. Flustered, she kicked the covers away from her, realising as she did that Rhett was no longer lying beside her.

She turned her head, looking around for him, but found the room empty. Disappointed, she flipped over onto her stomach, stretching and arching her back like a cat as she worked out a kink in her spine. The movement dislodged a piece of paper balanced precariously on Rhett's pillow, and she snatched it up as it slid down onto the mattress.

Gone to town, the note, written in Rhett's elegant hand, said. Will remain there for most of the day. Remember to call on Melanie.

Regards, Rhett

P.S You never cease to surprise me, Mrs. Butler. I look forward to finding out what new pleasures tonight has in store.

Her cheeks burning a fiery crimson, Scarlett crumpled the note up violently in her hand, looking around furtively as though fearing a servant would sneak up silently and try to read it over her shoulder.

His words were enough to slice through the sleepy fog of her brain. Awakened, the events of the previous night came back to her in snatches, each salvaged image more mortifying than the last: Rufus Bullock; Ashley's face; Rhett's hand between her thighs; her hand between his... Scarlett let out a pained whimper, wishing she could go back in time and slap some much-needed sense into herself. She should have known by now that what felt exciting and daring in the safe anonymity of the night, rarely remained so when exposed to the unforgiving light of day.

At least Rhett hadn't teased her in his note. You never cease to surprise me, he'd written. As if her actions had been a welcome revelation. Perhaps they had been. Now that the initial embarrassment had passed, Scarlett was beginning to recall other, more pleasant memories. Rhett and Ella dancing; the Old Cats' praise when they'd seen the ballroom; Rhett's smile when they'd discussed Mammy Jincy; the way it had felt when he'd touched her with his fingers...

Scarlett blinked, shivering despite the heat of the sun. It was best not to think about such things so early on in the day. Rhett wouldn't be home for hours yet, and there was precious little sense in stoking the grate of her desire without him there to strike the match and make it burn.

Resigned, she thought again of her poor, ruined crush. While most of the damage could be undone given enough time and hard work, the one blow of the night which could not be so easily cushioned was the way Ashley had turned his back on her, ushering Melanie out of the house as soon as Bullock had appeared. They had been friends their whole lives, and yet he'd abandoned her without a second thought, not even attempting to hear her side of the story before he'd passed judgement on her supposed crimes.

She wondered if he was punishing her for not helping him at the yard yesterday. If he was simply giving her a taste of her own medicine, paying her back for not being there when he'd needed her. It was petty and small, far beneath the high standards she normally held him to, but she found herself hoping it was true. Of all the possible reasons why he'd acted like he had, that felt like the least distressing.

Sighing, Scarlett turned over onto her back, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the crushed paper in her palm. Somewhere, in the murky corners of her brain, the remnants of last night's nightmare still lingered. A trill of fear passed over her as she remembered how Ashley's face had aged and withered before her very eyes, turning ugly and hostile in the imagined mirror. Scarlett shook her head to get rid of the unwanted image, no longer in the mood to lie around in bed. Getting up, she went to throw Rhett's note away, before something checked her impulse. Instead she placed it carefully in her dresser, shutting the drawer tight to keep it safe from prying eyes. Then, her mind on nosey servants, she called for Prissy to come and lace her.

Remember to call on Melanie, Rhett had written. As she was fitted into her corset, Scarlett imagined walking down the street to her friend's house. She pictured the looks she'd receive from other residents, both those who'd been at the crush themselves, and those who'd heard about what had happened secondhand. Because they would have heard by now, Scarlett was sure of it. Even the plagues of Egypt didn't spread as quickly as gossip did through the households and servant's quarters of Atlanta.

'Pass me my hat,' Scarlett instructed Prissy, once she'd been poured into her dress.

'Is you going out, Miss?' the impetuous girl asked, trying and failing to sound innocent.

Scarlett scowled, furious that even her own servants felt sorry for her. 'Yes.'

'To see Miss. Melly?'

Scarlett considered it for a moment, knowing that Rhett thought getting Melanie firmly back on side was the best way for her to start clawing back her reputation. She didn't feel up to seeing her just yet, though. It wasn't just the thought of walking over there that made her baulk, it went deeper than that. For all that she hadn't wanted to see him last night, she knew that she wouldn't be able to rest until she'd found out what Ashley really thought of her. She had to know where she stood with him. To find out if the things she'd seen in her nightmare had just been a silly dream, or a horrifying insight into a side of him she'd never even guessed existed.

'No,' she told Prissy, making up her mind. 'Tell Pork to ready the carriage. I want to visit the lumber yard.'

...

The yard was busy when Scarlett arrived, the smell of wood shavings and stale sweat hanging heavily in the crisp morning air. Scarlett looked around approvingly at the workers, enjoying the sense of industry and old-fashioned hard work that followed them around like a second, more animated shadow. The noise and movement of the place spoke to something deep within her, the same something that had propelled her through the lean war years, pushing Scarlett to plough on while those around her buckled under the strain.

She needed to dig deep to find some of that resolve again now. Squaring her shoulders, she swept through the yard towards Ashley's office. The door was closed, but she didn't stop to knock. She didn't want to give him any time to prepare himself. Rather, Scarlett wanted to see the true look on his face when he saw her, before he'd had a chance to school his features into something more polished.

Ashley was at his desk when she entered, his thin shoulders pulled up tight against his ears as he sat hunched over the accounts. His finger, which had been scanning across the open page, shot up, pointing at her almost accusatorially as he sprung up from his chair.

'Scarlett, what...what are you doing here?'

Scarlett frowned. Her ploy with the door had worked all too well. Ashley's expression when she'd come in had not been one of pleasant surprise. In fact, he had not looked pleased to see her at all. 'Am I not allowed to visit?' she asked testily. 'This was still my business, the last time I checked.'

'Of course,' Ashley said, recovering his composure. He rubbed nervously at the back of his neck for a few, long moments, before he recovered his manners and offered her a seat. 'Please, sit down. Can I get you anything to drink?'

'No, thank you,' Scarlett said, annoyed by his fidgety behaviour. Why, he was fussing and flapping around her like one of Aunt Pitty's scrawny chickens. She wondered when he'd become this twitchy, or if he'd always been this way and she'd just never noticed. 'I only stopped by to offer my help.'

'Help?'

'Yes, help,' Scarlett repeated slowly, as if she was talking to a child. And not a very bright one, at that. 'Yesterday, Melanie said you had a problem you needed my help with.'

Ashley looked at her blankly for a moment, before his whole body suddenly jolted, like a cow who'd been jabbed by a cattle prod. 'Oh, yes. Of course...I was having some trouble with one of the men, but it's all been resolved now. I'm sorry, Scarlett, I should have told you as much last night. It would have saved you the trouble of journeying out here.'

You're right you should have told me, Scarlett thought. But then you should have done a lot of things differently last night. 'Which man?'

'Sorry?'

'Which man were you having trouble with?'

Ashley sunk back down into his seat, taking a long time to shut the accounts book and put it away. 'I don't recall,' he eventually said.

'How can you have forgotten? It only happened yesterday!' Scarlett snapped, her frustration finally bleeding through. It was as if Ashley was deliberately trying to test her patience, umming and ahing until she was hard pressed not to reach across the desk and shake him until he rattled.

'I know, but it all happened so quickly...'

'But not so quickly that you didn't have enough time to explain the situation to Melanie and send her out to look for me. Really, Ashley, whatever is the matter with you today? You're acting so strangely that I don't know what to make of it.'

'I'm sor...'

'Don't be sorry. You've nothing to be sorry for. Just tell me plainly what the matter is.'

Ashley looked at her then. He'd been avoiding her eye ever since he'd recovered from the shock of her abrupt arrival, but now he stared straight at her with tired, troubled eyes. 'I am sorry, Scarlett. I'm sorry for a great number of things. Right now, above all else, I'm sorry I walked out of your party without saying goodbye. It was badly done. You've been so good to Melanie and I over the years, and you deserved better in return. It's just that I couldn't bear to be in the same room as that man for even a moment. I know it's not your fault, that you never would have thought to invite such a person into your home. I want you to know that I don't in any way hold you responsible for what occurred. Who your husband chooses to associate with is entirely outside of your control.'

'My husband...' Scarlett repeated dumbly. She didn't understand what Ashley was talking about, although the fact he was sorry for leaving her crush did settle some of the turbulence in her stomach. His apology helped to reassure her that the man she'd dreamt of these years was still in there, that he hadn't been a figment of her imagination all along.

'I know it's not my place to criticise him, Scarlett, but I can't in all good conscience stand aside and see your good name dragged through the mud on account of his ill actions. To think that he'd invite someone like Rufus Bullock into your home, that he'd disrespect you and your guests in that way...why, it simply won't be born.'

Scarlett's eyes widened when she gathered his meaning. He thought Rhett was to blame for the governor's appearance! At first, she was relieved, glad to wriggle off the hook so easily and without any real effort on her part. Slowly, though, a feeling of unease started seeping through her. It wasn't fair to let Rhett take the blame for her mistakes, not when, at this very moment in time, he was making his way through the city, doing all that he could to set things right for her.

'No, you've got it all wrong,' Scarlett said, needing to come clean. 'I was the one that invited the governor, not Rhett.'

'You?' Ashley said, his face paling until it almost seemed to merge with the white wall behind his head. It looked as if he was slowly disappearing before her eyes, shrinking further away from her with every passing second. She wondered how to bring him back, doubting for the first time whether she even could.

'It was such a terrible mistake, I know that now,' she admitted, deciding that honesty was the only way of regaining his good opinion. 'I didn't know how everyone would react to him being there, if I'd had any idea I never would have asked him to come. I thought people would be impressed to see the governor. Mother always had such well-known people at her parties, and I wanted to be just like her. And now everything is ruined. If I could take it back, I would, Ashley. I swear I would.'

Ashley rubbed again at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture she couldn't remember seeing before. 'I believe you, Scarlett. You weren't to know. You've got such a practical mindset, and you never did set much store by politics. I wish I'd known of your intentions. I would have done everything in my power to dissuade you from such a treacherous course. You should have been guided better. Those closest to you should have guided you better.'

'But Rhett didn't know I'd invited him,' Scarlett argued, understanding the unspoken implication behind his words. 'I never told him.'

'He's your husband, Scarlett. He should have known. It's his duty to protect you, even from yourself.'

Ashley's words stirred a long-forgotten memory. Suddenly Scarlett found herself transported back through the years to the jail. Rhett was before her, furious and savage, her bare, calloused hands held out between them like a wall she couldn't climb over. 'Doesn't it occur to you that he should have known?', Rhett had said when they'd spoken about that day in her store months later, after he'd been safely released. He'd been angry that Ashley hadn't stopped her from coming to Atlanta to try and save Tara. 'Loving you as you say he does,' he'd accused viciously, 'he should have known just what you would do when you were desperate.' And now here Ashley was, saying almost the very same thing about Rhett. Was he right? Should Rhett have guessed her intentions? She'd been so secretive that she didn't see how he could possibly have uncovered her plot, and yet hadn't he always claimed to be able to read her inner thoughts like a book?

Maybe he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does, Scarlett said to herself, unprepared for how deeply the thought would cut. How alone it would make her feel.

'When I think of what he's done to you, I can hardly bear it,' Ashley continued. He'd lost his earlier hesitancy, his tall frame vibrating with barely suppressed anger. It was as if something had been unleashed in him, something which he was struggling to rein back in. It made him go further than he ever had before, saying things Scarlett never thought she'd hear fall from his lips. 'I know it's not my place to say any of this, Scarlett, but it pains me to see you abused so deplorably. You, who were always so straight and true and pure. He's corrupting you, hauling you down to his own base level.'

'But, Ashley, you're not listening. It was my fault the governor was there. Mine. Not Rhett's. Lord knows the man is far from a saint, but-'

'He's worse than that, Scarlett. I wish I had told you before you'd married him; I wish I'd warned you. I'll never forgive myself for remaining silent, for letting you walk down the aisle with so little knowledge of the man waiting for you at the end of it. You had no forewarning of the ways he'd debase you, no inkling that he'd force himself on you in the midst of your own party-'

'Force himself? What on earth do you mean?' Scarlett asked, not comprehending him in the slightest.

Ashley looked at her, his grey eyes swimming with misery and embarrassment and remorse. The longer she stared at him, the colder Scarlett became. She realised she'd seen him look this way once before, last night in fact, when she'd opened the study door and found him lurking behind it. A terrible suspicion took hold deep in her gut, a suspicion that made her skin grow clammy, her throat constricting until she feared she might choke.

'Ash-'

'I'm sorry, Scarlett. It should never have happened. I truly was looking for the facilities. Pork must have directed me the wrong way.'

Scarlett turned away in horror, his words all the confirmation she needed. He'd seen her and Rhett together. No, he'd heard them. When she remembered the sounds she'd made in the height of her passion, she could happily have torn out her traitorous tongue with her bare hands. Whatever must he think of her? And how was she ever supposed to look him in the eye again? Weighed down by this new understanding, Scarlett found herself reevaluating how Ashley had behaved at the crush. No wonder he'd been so quiet, no wonder he hadn't wanted to dance with her or to stay when Bullock appeared. Why, he must have secretly been praying for such a good excuse to escape! Oh, it was too mortifying to be endured!

Scarlett jumped to her feet, eager to get away. She couldn't bear to be in the same room as him for a moment longer. Not now he'd seen her at her very worst. Not now his opinion of her was tarnished beyond all repair.

'Don't go,' Ashley begged, reaching for her. 'I shouldn't have said so much. It was not my place. I didn't mean to upset you, Scarlett. I just hate to think of him brutalising you. Your spirit has always been so strong, so bright, that it pains me to see it being dimmed. When I think of him touching you...' Ashley shuddered, trailing off.

Brutalising you, the words hung suspended in the air between them, ugly and violent and...wrong. What Rhett had done to her yesterday night, what he'd been doing to her for weeks now, it was many things, but it was not brutal. Indeed, he was more tender with her when they lay together than he was in most other areas of their marriage. She closed her eyes and felt again the reverential sweep of his fingers down her spine, the soft, slow press of his lips against her cheek, the lulling, hypnotic rhythm of his thrusts, so deep between her parted thighs. That wasn't brutalising her, was it? Scarlett didn't think so, but then after the catastrophe with Bullock, she was no longer certain she could trust her own judgement. What if she was wrong about this too? What if Rhett had skewed her sense of propriety, dulling her brightness just like Ashley said, and dragging her down with him into the dark?

If the Scarlett of a few months ago could see her now, if she knew the things she'd let Rhett do to her, and the things she'd done to him in return, would she be repulsed? Horrified? Ashamed? Would she scream and shout at the Scarlett who stood here now, rebuking her for falling for Rhett's manipulations? She had not felt manipulated at the time, but perhaps she should have. Rhett was such a wily creature, after all. Maybe she'd been wrong to place such trust in him. Perhaps Ashley was right, and he'd been brutalising her all along.

Her mind a tumult of humiliation and self-recrimination, Scarlett fled the office and raced through the yard to her waiting carriage. Ashley's words were echoing mercilessly around her head, and she didn't know what to think, or what she should do next. The only thing she was certain of was that she needed to speak to Rhett. Urgently.

'Take me home,' she demanded of Pork, climbing inside the carriage. 'Take me home right now.'