Vanity Blair
Chapter III: The Rain in England Falls Mostly on Discontented Couples
SPOTTED: H marking a possible return to Polite Society with a visit to the opera, together with his offspring. A victim of Lady B in his youth, has the failed social outcast finally seen the light with two children to marry off?
The sky was clear but chilled when the party arrived at the famed pleasure gardens in the early afternoon, and Blair was glad of the warm pelisse which matched her dress oh-so-perfectly. She noted with distaste that another member of the party, Hazel Williams – such a common name – had copied her customary hair ribbon, threaded beneath her bonnet, but decided to delay wreaking her punishment, momentarily. For now she had Nate to keep her company, and he never approved of her sly rumours.
The walking party set off through the park at a leisurely pace, Blair with her arm firmly through her betrothed's leading the charge, followed by the rest of the party – Hazel, Serena and a few select others – and finally their thankfully absent-minded chaperone. Of a certain fish-named male there was no sign, but due to experience, Blair was more wary than relieved.
"'Tis a lovely day, is it not?" she was saying happily to Nate, before they rounded a corner and walked directly into a trap.
"Good afternoon, all. What a choice afternoon for taking exercise."
He actually had the gall to feign surprise! Blair was seething.
Nate, however, seemed oblivious to any venomous or smug looks exchanged between the two brunettes. "Chuck! Why don't you join us?"
"Why thank you, Nathaniel," his friend drawled. He spent a particularly smirky look at Blair and fell into step with them. "I believe I just passed Lord Baizen in the other direction," he said to Nate, gesturing back the way he had come.
"Oh really?" Nate looked animated. "Miss Waldorf, I really must see Baizen about a horse. Would you mind?"
Blair was about to protest but Nate had already dropped her arm and started in the other direction.
"Why don't we go and feed the ducks, MissWaldorf?" asked Bass in a loud voice. "I know how you love the ducks."
Blair fought the urge to hit him, which would be unseemly. Instead she chose that moment to put up her parasol – the exact mauve shade of which matched her gown exactly – accidentally spearing Mr Bass in the head with a sharp prong on the way up. "Oh, I am so sorry, Mr Bass. My deepest apologies." She smiled sweetly.
Chuck resisted the urge to rub his head and took the cursed parasol in one hand, firmly tucking Waldorf's hand beneath his arm. "Allow me to carry your parasol for you, Miss Waldorf. We wouldn't want any strain to come to that delicate arm of yours."
He led her at speed down to the lakeside where the odd swan drifted lazily across the calm waters. She noted that on this particular day, his statement scarf was a shade of puce striped with gold – a combination which should, by the common laws of decency, compliment no one, although on Bass it looked somehow natural.
Seeing that the rest of the party were settling on a bench near the path, Blair detangled her arm from Bass's, scowling up at him. "Please refrain from doing that in future, Mr Bass. In fact, never touch me again. I feel contaminated."
Bass did not appear to take offence at this, which disappointed Blair. Instead he said in a teasing tone: "You didn't appear to mind so much last night, when we were waltzing."
"I simply enjoy waltzing. Even with you. I would enjoy it with you or Nate or – or with a chimney sweep!"
"I don't think many chimney sweeps know how to waltz. Certainly not as well as me."
"I was trying to make a point, Bass. What do you want?"
"Why, only you, Miss Waldorf."
"Very droll, Mr Bass. Nate will be returning soon so make it quick. I don't want any more little notes arriving at my house. What would my mother think?"
Bass appeared to hear only one word out of her monologue. "Nate," he repeated. "Why are you marrying him, Blair?"
"Why wouldn't I marry him, Bass?" countered Blair. "He is handsome, charming and extremely eligible. Please refrain from calling me Blair. I hardly know you."
"As you wish, Miss Waldorf," said Bass stonily. Something in his eyes made Blair look away.
Ignoring any feelings of discomfort, she asked "Is that all – is it raining?" A few droplets hit the soft skin of her cheek.
Bass peered up into the sky, where grey clouds had gathered as quickly as suitors to Serena. "Yes. Come on." He headed under the canopy of a nearby tree – neatly hidden, a subconscious part of Blair noted, from the view of their friends – this time without touching her. Blair followed anyway without thinking.
"I don't even have an umbrella," she complained. "This is all your fault, Bass."
"My fault?" he repeated incredulously. "What about this thing, anyway?" He waved the delicate lace trimmed parasol in the direction of Blair.
"It would get soaked in the rain," she informed him haughtily. "The lace would be ruined. And it most certainly is your fault, Bass. You dragged me all the way out here, away from any proper chaperone, under the pretence of needing to impart important information. You then proceeded to demand why I am marrying my fiancé, who is also your best friend, and now my shoes will be muddy. Is there any reason for this madness?"
Bass reeled slightly from the onslaught but recouped with vigour. "Yes, there is."
"Does what you need to speak with me about depend upon my choice of future husband?"
"It may do."
"I am persuaded that it does not," said Blair firmly, disregarding the fact that she knew nothing of the sort. Chuck turned to look down at her.
"Look, Blair-"
Blair decided to risk the rain and turned away as the Bass-tard began speaking again. Unfortunately, her brilliant exit was marred slightly by a root sticking out of the soil. She tripped over it. Stupid Bass. A pair of strong arms caught her by the shoulders.
She realised for the first time how close they had been standing. So close that Blair could smell the scent that Chuck used, the expensive tobacco on his breath.
A she raised her eyes to meet his, Blair's own breath caught in her throat. Slowly, as if time was coming to a standstill, Chuck's lips descended onto hers.
They were surprisingly soft. Somehow, Blair hadn't expected them to be that soft, not that she'd ever thought about it before, of course. Nate's kisses had never felt like this, brief, chaste pecks. Increasingly, thoughts of Nate – of anyone else, really – slipped from her mind as Cguck's tongue explored her mouth. His large hands moved down her arms to her waist, and then indecently lower than her waist –
"Stop." Blair managed to wrench herself away to speak. Her mouth felt like jelly and she resisted with difficulty the urge to lick her lips.
She pushed Chuck away. "Don't ever do that again," she said angrily, although Chuck looked as surprised as she felt. This was probably because he hadn't ever been rejected by a woman before. He quickly regained his composure though, and smiled a smarmy smile.
"Why not?"
"Don't ever speak to me again," she warned, ignoring his comment. "Don't even look at me, or I shall tell Nate you have been indecently assaulting his future wife."
She spat the words out, then turned on her heel (carefully, this time) and hurried back to the path.
On the other side of the park, Dan Humphrey strolled past the fountains, on the return journey from delivering a poem to a publishing house.
Ahead of him, Nate Archibald was saying farewell to another young man. He turned away and caught sight of Dan.
"Good afternoon!" he called, so Dan had no choice but to answer. "Good afternoon."
"I remember you from last night," said Nate, with some effort of memory. "David Hunt?"
"Daniel Humphrey."
"That's the one. Listen. A fellow doesn't want to have a debt to another. Why don't you come to the ball my mother is holding tomorrow night? I'm sure she'll have no objection."
"Thank you, Mr Archibald – " Dan began to formulate an excuse in his mind, but Archibald once again cut him off at the quick.
"It's no bother. I'll send an invitation around tonight. If you'll excuse me, I need to return to the rest of my party." He grinned jovially at Dan, tipped his hat and left.
Dan was left to consider the horrific prospect of a society ball alone.