A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews! They definitely help with fueling the brain juices :).
The Rose's Ruse
Chapter 3
"Dinner is ready to be served in the dining room, milord," the chief maid announced before rushing back to the kitchen to stand at the ready. Chuck believed her name was something akin to Dakota, Dasoka...Dorota, that was it. He acknowledged her with a brief nod and proceeded to offer an arm to 'Lady Jennifer,' who accepted graciously all the while stepping on the tip of his boot. He winced, more at the scuff mark of his Italian boots than at the miniscule weight she'd put on him. He earnestly hoped that the pretty wench would finish this game soon, if only for the sake of his health. Her replacement had caused him enough injuries than he normally received within a month at sea.
He pulled the chair out for the girl and watched her jump when he gave the seat a nudge. She tucked her large blue skirts and busied herself while Chuck observed the way the rich color did nothing for the near sickly pale of her skin. He took his seat at the head of the table, Nathaniel on his right and the girl on his left. He supposed Lady Waldorf will be seated across from him when she returned from his trip. Was this what his life will be? Sitting at a dining table with his best friend and people who bored him to tears?
A door to the side was opened by his manservant and in walked Dorota carrying the roast for the evening, followed by a thin little thing carrying a large bowl of greens. He would be willing to place a bet on all of his possessions that this girl had never worked a day in his life. Her movements were graceful, but impractical. In the cotton servant's dress, her pale ankle peeked through when she kicked up in her step and his eyes drifted up what must be shapely legs to a thin waist until he met her eyes, standing right by his side.
He was amused by the fire in this one. She never turned her head to watch her hands as she spooned a large serving of spinach onto his plate. With the rebellion running amok in her eyes, he half expected her to drop the entire thing onto his lap. He was almost disappointed when she simply sniffed, head held up high and the pinned back curls bouncing behind her, and turned to her fair-haired friend and, with a small smile and a warning look (to keep her servant in line, Chuck guessed), served her as she did him.
Her smile grew, her straight row of white little teeth showing and she looked at Nathaniel from beneath her lashes, her wrist allowing the sleeve of the material to slide down ever so slightly as she served him. His friend seemed interested - a little too interested in the way her cheeks blushed a musty rose under his stare and Chuck sat back, arms crossed, to observe the exchange.
"Thank you, Miss Humphrey."
"I am but performing my duty, Sir Archibald. As I am but a servant here, Blair would suffice."
Chuck scowled at the smile gracing his friend's handsome face. "Blair it is then. And I insist that you address me as Nathaniel. Chuck is your master, not I."
Although he and Nathaniel have been dear friends for as long as he could remember and he never did like fighting over toys, it bothered Chuck more than he cared to admit to watch the two of them interact as though they'd grown up together, destined for one another. Especially when all he got from her was a smart tongue and hateful glares. "Yes, Blair. Nathaniel, however, does not enjoy his meal without a drop of refreshment. I expect you to know to bring up the wine without being asked. However did Lord and Lady Waldorf train you?"
She bit the inside of her cheek from spewing out the most unsightly words she could think of. "I apologize, milord."
"Well don't just stand there then, go fetch us a bottle. Your apologies will do nothing for my thirst." He watched her hips sway as she left the room in a huff and found himself thinking thoughts that would have Lord Waldorf come back from his grave to squeeze the images from his sinful mind.
"Chuck." He turned back to his companion. "Would it not be wise to treat Lady Jennifer's servants in a more genteel manner, especially in her presence?" Nathaniel turned his blue eyes at the girl across the table, who jumped at the attention. Chuck wanted to laugh at the alarmed little thing with her frightened, constantly moving eyeballs.
"Do I offend you, Lady Jennifer? I did not consider this possibility, but if you would rather I keep my preferences to myself or train the servants in your absence, that would be acceptible also."
Her lips moved, but only a small, croak filled the room as she tried to find the words her mistress would have spoken. "W-well, I-"
Luckily, her puppet mistress returned at the precise moment with one of her father's old wines from the cellar. She breezed right by Chuck, snarling at her complete ignorance of him, and appeared by Nathaniel, presenting the label to him. "Will this be acceptible, Sir Archibald?"
"Of course. And please, I do insist. Nathaniel will do."
"I am but a servant, as milord had just pointed out and would hate to speak out of my place. I have offended my master enough for one evening." She glared at him and he, pleased at finally being acknowledged, hardly noticed his own friend turning back to him.
"Chuck-"
He held up his hand to silence him, his eyes never leaving the other set of dark, dark eyes in the room. "If Nathaniel insists on something, Blair, you should, to the best of your ability, do as he asks." The blond, seeing that the issue seemed to have subsided, turned back to the fair girl with an easy smile, which she returned in a beat. Chuck admired her greatly in that moment in her ability to morph from her hostile demeaner to the sweet angel she presented herself as to Nathaniel. He wondered how it must feel to have an angel smile down on him.
***
The meal passed in relative peace, save for one incident involving an 'accidentally' dropped fork and her new 'master's' leer when she bent to pick up dirtied silver from the floor by his feet. She had to fight the urge to stab the offending instrument in his pantleg, but as a whole, Blair believed that she had done quite well for herself. She deserved this meal. So she sat, along with Dorota and Daniel, at the small round table with a plate full of bits and pieces of the courses, and prepared to gorge herself.
"Blair, I do beg you to reconsider. This is not for you. You were raised in luxury-"
"Are you saying that I cannot accomplish something, Daniel?" The boy looked down under her fierce gaze and tended to his piece of chicken while Dorota watched the children she'd raised in the faint light of the moon and the glow of the candles. Of course, Lady Blair was spoiled, but she was smart, smarter than most young ladies of her age. She would never regret the day she asked Lord Waldorf to ensure a proper education for his only child, even if education was an idea tailored for men.
"So Nathaniel, at least, seems decent and proper. He was awfully kind to me at the door."
"He is quite like a dream, is he not? Handsome, gentle, kind...and who said you are allowed to call him Nathaniel?" A privilege such as that should be reserved for the young, unmarried lady of the house!
"He did." Blair grimaced at his mouthful of chewed meat.
"Daniel. Mind your manners." Never had Dorota seen her Lady Blair so pleased with a man. No one ever quite measured up and she was eager to find out more about this Nathaniel Archibald. Every good mother would want her daughter married to a loving, successful man and as Dorota never had a child of her own, she was ready to start planning the wedding herself.
"Oh, my apologies. Forgot we had a lady with us," he teased. In a rare moment of childish play, Blair threw her handkerchief at him and laughed when he batted it to the floor. "I am not impressed by your surprise attacks. To be honest, I'm not sure about the captain, I have yet to actually, you know, converse with him without falling over myself."
"There isn't much to learn about the captain, is there? I am certain that all of the stories about him are true. He is nothing but a lewd, classless, unkind, rude, cretin with far too many women and -"
"Lady Blair?" All three heads turned towards the doorway to find Jenny Humphrey, her blond ringlets ready to fall apart and her dress weighing down her thin frame.
"Jenny! Shhhh! Don't call me Lady Blair. The walls have ears!"
"Milady, I assure you. Captain Bass could not possibly be listening." Jenny despised being the bearer of bad news and because of this, averted her eyes as much as she could.
"Oh? And what makes you so certain?"
"B-because Captain Bass is in the washroom on the second floor. A-and he's requested that you prepare and assist in his bath."
***
The girl was more difficult than he had thought. To be honest, he didn't expect a noble-bred girl to last through an entire four-course meal as a servant, but he supposed this made things more enjoyable and interesting for him. Although now with this time-constraint...
The evening post arrived with a letter addressed to him from Lady Eleanor Waldorf, informing him of her return in three day's time. It was only fair that the girl also knows of this little obstruction in her game. It would simply not do for the Lady Waldorf to return to a house where her daughter was playing servant, not only for her, but for him as well. He would not be made to look like a fool who couldn't run a mere household.
He had to push her to forfeit.
Where was that girl in any case? It had been an excruciatingly long day and as much as he wished to torture and embarass her with the task, he did genuinely want a bath as well. For a sea captain, he enjoyed cleanliness and promoted it amongst his crew. He was, after all, raised by a wealthy businessman.
The soft rapping on the door alerted him and he sprawled himself on the chair, legs casually thrown straight out ahead of him with his spine curving against the back cushion - the very picture of decadent nonchalance. "Enter." There was a jumble of the doorknob and he knitted his brows. This was the sort of clumsy behavior he expected from the girl's maid, Jennifer.
From the crack of the opening door, an arm shot out into the room, fingers outstretched and in small, shuffling steps, Blair Waldorf stepped into the room with one hand covering her eyes. He snickered, obviously Jennifer had passed on his message. "Woman, what are you doing?"
"Milord," she quickly curtsied in the direction of his voice. With one hand on her face, she nearly lost her balance and tumbled into the small table by the tub. He reached for her arm to steady her and attempted to pull her hand away, but she steadfastedly refused. "I am afraid you are indecent, milord."
His face was close and she could feel his breath on against the skin of her cheek and on her fingers. "Relax, Blair. I am completely dressed." She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and made sure it was visible to him. Of course the little thing would be difficult. He grasped her other arm and in a swift, surprising yank, pulled her palm flat onto his cloth covered chest. She struggled at first and he was certain that she had never stood this close to a man (he did not count that bumbling scribe as anything close to a man) and it was endearing when her tiny hand gave up the fight and her eyes peeked out from between opening fingers. "Disappointed?"
She quickly straightened herself, an absolute refusal to acknowledge the embarassing situation that had just occurred. "What sort of assistance will you be requiring, milord?"
"Well, we shall get to that later. First, I will need you to fill up the tub with water. I do believe there is a well behind the house." He looked at her thin arms and then at the round tub and finally at two small water buckets with which she will make her trips. Her jaw dropped slightly at the seemingly impossibility of the task, but when she spotted his smirk, she gave one in return.
"Yes, milord." There was no way she would give up that easily.