Part 5
It was preposterous and utterly unfair, she thought to herself as she fumed in the garden. She had always been disgusted by the very idea that after long years of knowing that she was going to be Nathaniel's wife, her mother could so easily change the path that her life would take. And she had done it over something as petty as a financial crisis on the part of the Archibalds'. Heavens, Blair thought in her head, her dowry alone could probably pay off the Archibald debt ten times over!
And that man—that man was the last straw! She ignored the low tingling sensation she had felt when the marquis held her in his arms, when she met his eyes from the slits of their masks. She had danced with the devil himself and it had been an experience that went beyond her wildest dreams. He had been playing her, of course—probably testing her virtue. The marquis had known that he was going to take Blair for a wife, and he had followed her during her night of debauchery. There was no other explanation for it.
Did he plan to ruin her name and force her hand in marriage? Blair huffed. If she had not been wearing her favorite ballroom shoes, she would have stomped her foot as well, so frustrated was she.
That man was insufferable. And he knew how to make her body respond. Idly, her fingers rose to touch her lips. He had known exactly how to kiss her. Blair wondered how many ladies he had kissed to do it so well. He probably kissed half the Parisian ladies before he found one as rich as Blair.
There were footsteps behind her, and Blair turned around knowing that it would definitely not her mother. Eleanor Rose had always run off to spend time with her friends or to vacation with Cyrus abroad when there was a chance of confrontation with her only daughter.
Blair stood up in surprise, conscious of the intruder in her private space. He walked forward until he was only a few steps in front of her. She opened her mouth to ask him to leave, but he smiled warmly, as if there was nothing odd that existed between them.
"I'm not here to fight," he said, his voice deep like a caress. "I'm here to check on my sister."
Her stiff shoulders slackened, because he spoke like the brother she had always thought him to be until one night, right after Nate and his parents returned to England, and Aaron had just become more aloof, like a stranger who looked at her from beneath shadowed eyes. This, tonight, was the brother she had once looked up to and adored, and she had missed him so. "Oh Aaron! Did you see it?" she cried out. "It was awful."
Aaron Rose stepped forward and took his stepsister in his arms. Blair sighed with relief. Finally, there was one person in her family, apart from Dorota, who seemed to be on her side. She laid her head on his chest. "She will never stop, will she?" she whispered against his shirt.
His hand was warm as he stroked her back. Blair burrowed deeper into his embrace as she relished this rare moment when Aaron returned to being the familiar and loving Aaron that had been gone for a time. "Evidently," his voice rumbled in his chest. "I, for one, cannot believe how quickly your mother has found someone to marry you off to."
"I know." She sniffled. "Does she want to get rid of me so much?"
He pulled away a little to look down into her eyes. "There is only one solution to this."
She blinked up at him, anxious to learn about a wonderful new idea sure to come. "What is it, Aaron?" And then he cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. Blair's eyes grew wide. "Aaron," she choked uncertainly.
Her stepbrother cocked his head to the side and dove, so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Blair had no chance to react. And then his lips were on hers and they were heavy and demanding, bruising. Blair choked out a cry and pushed on his shoulders with both hands. She freed her lips long enough to yell, "Aaron, stop, please!"
"I dream of you every night."
"Aaron, stop. This isn't right. I'm your sister."
And then he slapped a hand over her lips and spat into her ear. "You've known, you little cocktease. Just like little Archibald did. Don't tell me he didn't tell you about our last conversation."
Oh my God, she thought. There had been no word, no sign. Before Nathaniel and his parents left, when she was fifteen, he had brushed his lips against her knuckles, and the action had made her heart jump to her throat. Nathaniel had promised her that he would come back for her, that he would marry her. And he had done it in front of Eleanor, Cyrus and Aaron.
Was that Lord Nathaniel's subtle way of warning Aaron Rose off? If it was, and he truly did know about this sick fascination that her stepbrother had for her, she was going to hunt him down and kill him. He hadn't given her a chance at all.
And then his fingers grasped the front of her white gown, and Blair winced at the pain at her nape when he pulled violently down, ripping the thread at the shoulder seams. It revealed the upper left half of her white chemise. Idly, she noted that her broken wings had fallen down on the grass. Blair looked up towards the doors back to the house and saw only the quiet corridor. She screamed, aware even as she did that her voice would not be heard over the din of the ballroom music and chatter, so far away were they from where the guests were. This was one of the reasons she and her father used to love to practice here in their private paradise. Harold would play his violin, and Blair would sing. None of the servants ever disrupted their sanctuary.
"That English brat thought he was man enough to challenge me. Now look where he is." Aaron's eyes roamed the expanse of the flesh he had revealed, and bile rose in her throat at the hungry look in his eyes. She struggled to free herself, but he held on fast. "Not even fit to kiss the ground you walk on."
Vaguely, Blair realized that she was crying. She screamed again, wearing her voice, knowing she was hurting herself and that no one was likely to help. Instead, because he was so much stronger and this was all the control she could get in the situation, Blair screamed and screamed.
One hand grasped her jaw to force her to face him. Blair squeezed her eyes shut. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled back. "You think I don't know about your little escapade last night?" Blair froze. "You're a little slut, Blair. How many men in La Fleur Noire have you spread your legs for, little bitch?"
And despite thinking that she was scared before, it did not compare to the sheer terror that enveloped her then. With adrenaline borne out of fear, Blair struggled with arms and legs flailing until she kneed him in the groin. He cursed and folded into himself. She freed herself and scampered away.
She reached until the doors before he caught the back of her gown and pulled her back. Blair stumbled down onto the floor, and then she was pressed against the floor, with his heavy form above hers. "Oh God!" she cried. "Aaron, stop." Her tears stained her temples, and Blair's head throbbed at the impact of the back of head against the marble floor.
And then suddenly, miraculously, the weight was lifted off of her. The moment she could move, Blair pulled herself up and gathered her gown over her chemise. She pulled herself up to sit against the wall and watched in morbid horror as Aaron was thrown against the glass door and went crashing through it, landing on the grass of her garden. Her gaze went from the broken body of her stepbrother to the caped figure of the marquis of Hartington, who now stood over Aaron, primed, feral, his fists clenching at his sides.
When it was apparent that Aaron Rose was not going to stand up, the marquis turned towards her. Blair had seen his face twice before. First, as a smitten gentleman whom she had impulsively kissed outside La Fleur Noire. Second, as an arrogant devil come to claim his prize. When she saw his face this time, knowing that this was the man her mother saw fit to replace her fiancé of ten long years, she saw her avenging angel dressed inaptly in red and black. He breathed harshly through his mouth, and he stared at her, unmoving. Blair placed a hand against the wall behind her and pulled herself up. Her knees quivered, and she managed to stand for a few seconds before collapsing back against the wall.
This time, the marquis walked towards her slowly, holding her gaze. Blair wondered why he could not move more quickly when she was obviously distraught. It was not until he stopped two yards away from her with an uncertain look in his eyes that she realized that he did not want to appear as if he was forceful in any way.
Another man appeared just behind the marquis, one that Blair did not recognize. The marquis turned to acknowledge the presence of the man. "Humphrey," he said with a tone of authority that Blair immediately placed the man as an employee, "I have left some garbage out in the garden. Will you take care of it for me?"
Blair's gaze flickered over to the still unconscious Aaron, who was now slowly being approached by the man named Humphrey, then back at the marquis. She extended her hand towards him. "Please, my lord, will you help me?"
It seemed like enough of an invitation to him because he then stepped towards her and took her by the elbow with a firm, supportive hand. Blair managed to stand still. She took a step forward, and her still unsteady knees buckled. The marquis caught her in his arms. Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry."
The marquis took her up in his arms and asked simply, "Show me the way to your room."
Fearful the whole way that he would stumble and drop her, Blair gave quiet directions using the servants' stairwell. When they stopped in front of her bedroom door, Blair swallowed. No man had ever been inside her bedroom, least of all a stranger who was also to become her husband. Before she could reach for the knob, Dorota had come running down the corridor and opened it for them.
"You may put me down, my lord."
Dorota clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her body as she assessed her lady's condition. "Nonsense," the maid gasped. "You look worse for wear, Lady Blair. My lord, please deposit my lady onto her bed."
The marquis curved his lips, and Blair shivered at the sight. He felt the movement, and he arched an eyebrow at her. "Cold, my lady?"
Blair did not answer. Instead, she waited as he bent down to place her in her bed. For one split second, as he was bent over her and she was lying on her back, she froze in terror. The marquis quickly pulled himself up at the reaction. He looked up at the maid, who helpfully provided her name.
"Dorota, my lord."
"Dorota," the marquis requested, "can you please fetch me a bowl of water and a small washcloth."
The maid shuffled towards Blair's bathroom. Blair pulled herself up to sit and winced at the pain at the back of her head. She reached up and pressed her fingers gingerly on a bump. She winced again.
"Stop pressing on it," he commanded.
"My lord—"
"Charles Bass, my lady. My friends call me Chuck."
"My lord Charles, I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for tonight," she said, swallowing heavily at the rawness of her throat.
Dorota stepped back into the room, and Blair turned her face away as her tears threatened to spill. Charles received the water and the cloth from the maid and murmured his thanks. "Dorota, will you give the lady and me a few moments please?"
Dorota looked over at Blair to take her final orders. At Blair nod, Dorota left the room. Blair looked up at Lord Charles. He tipped her chin up with a gentle finger, so unlike how Aaron had forced her to look. "Cry," he suggested. Blair's eyebrows furrowed. Lord Charles' hands then reached into the water bowl and dipped the washcloth in, then he raised it and squeezed it dry. He placed the washcloth gingerly against her cut lip. "It's alright to cry after what happened, my lady."
Blair closed her eyes, her lids trembling as she held the tears in. "Crying never solved anything," she said, the words falling out of her lips naturally, because she had heard her mother say the same to her since the day her father died. The cold cloth soothed the pain on her lip. Soon, he placed the damp cloth at her temple, where another quiet pain throbbed.
"My lady," he said softly. She opened her eyes and looked into concerned dark eyes. "The next time anyone tries to hurt you, or make you do anything you do not wish to do, I swear I will kill them with my bare hands."
She was captured by his gaze. "Because I'm yours?"
"Because you deserve better," he told her. And it was then that she cried. Lord Charles looked up at the antique mirror facing the bed. "Look." Blair raised her teary eyes towards the mirror and saw their reflection there. She sat in front of him in her torn white gown, her hair in disarray with a bloody cut on her lip. Behind her, he was perfection still in his black and red suit.
Blair caught her breath as she watched his reflection lean down to place a kiss on her shoulder. She turned her head to rest it against his. "My lord, there is no turning back now," she said.
Blair saw his eyes in their reflection, at the quick shift from where it had been to the guilt, and then to that shuttered look that meant she could read nothing. Lord Charles replied, "No turning back. I will have Dorota pack your things, my lady. You will not spend another hour here in this house. We leave for a hotel tonight, and for England tomorrow."
And then he was striding out of her room. Blair watched him leave until he closed the door behind him. She rose from her bed and started towards her closet. When the door opened again, she turned around quickly in hope.
"Dorota," she greeted.
The maid walked over towards Blair and wrapped her arms around her lady. "Oh my lady, I will miss you so."
"I will send for you, Dorota. If my lord will be so kind, we will be together again very soon," she promised. Her voice dropped. "What did my mother say about Aaron?" she shuddered at the very thought of her stepbrother.
"Nothing, my lady. She and Monsieur Rose await the marquis in the library." The maid leaned forward, as if anyone else could hear. "I think they will give Lord Charles anything for his silence. No one else from the party saw, but a peep from your lord's mouth and your stepbrother is ruined forever. It's not like he has a name or the pocketbook to recover from something like this."
"Dorota, my lord Charles is taking me to London."
The maid nodded. "That's what he said, my lady." She turned her head. "Is something the matter?"
"What if we meet my Lord Nathaniel there?"
Dorota shook her head and clucked her tongue. "If you meet Lord Nathaniel, you can kick his shin and ask why he could not be bothered to keep his promise?"
"But Dorota," she exclaimed, "neither did I!"
"If he had the good sense to come as he promised you, you would have married him despite what Lady Eleanor wants. Is that not right?"
Blair wondered if Dorota was right. If Nathaniel came, and everything else was the same as now, would she have married him? Everything was so easy with Nathaniel. She had known she would marry him since before Blair knew how to appreciate a man. What if she still had met Lord Charles outside La Fleur, and her mother had decided that Lord Charles was the best match for him? Blair wondered, imagining Lord Charles on one side of the room and what she remembered of Lord Nathaniel on the other.
"Never mind," she answered. "You're right, Dorota. Lord Nathaniel has sadly missed the boat. And I cannot think of a more perfect replacement."
She and Dorota spent the next hour packing her favorite clothes. She changed from her torn gown to blue traveling clothes. As she was going through her jewelry to pick the ones she would bring, the door opened and in walked Lord Charles. He saw Blair in her new gown and smiled. "We're off, my lady."
Blair smiled back uncertainly, unsure of how to respond due to his sudden change earlier. "All's well with my mother?"
"Should be," he replied. "Unless you wish to press charges."
"And drag my name in the mud along with his?" Blair said. She shook her head. "I'm well rid of this hell." She bit her lip.
"What is it, Blair?"
"I want my father's grand piano."
He nodded. "You will have it. I'll make sure of it." Lord Charles walked towards her and said, "There's one thing missing." Blair saw him place his hand in his pocket, then draw out a white satin ribbon.
"May I?"
Her lips parted. Blair nodded and held her breath as he reached up behind her. The marquis tied the ribbon in her hair. "Now we're ready."
tbc
Next chapter we're going to check back in England to see how Serena, Nathaniel and Vanessa are faring.
Let me know what you think of the developments between Blair and Chuck.