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off once since her graduation party at the Yale Club a little over two weeks ago。
After ditching Vanessa Abrams？s small apartment in dingy and weird Williamsburg； with no
intention of moving back to the crazy world she used to call home； Blair had decided to live at the
Yale club。 She and Lord Marcus had met in the elevator； and his hot accent and neatly ironed jeans
had gotten to her right away。 Fate had it that their rooms were side by side； and she could imagine
the feel of his sexy English breath on her neck even before they？d kissed？which had happened that
very night。 After pouring her heart out to him over six or seven cosmos； Blair was so sure she？d
found the love of her life； she practically threw herself at him。 She was too tipsy？ and he was too
much of a gentleman？to do more than kiss。 But allthat was about to change。
Blair draped the sheets over her body and lit a cigarette； striking a pose that said；I？m on my
honeymoon and worn out from doing it； but what the hell； let？s do it again 。 She grabbed the
newspaper off of the floor and propped up the front page so it looked like she was reading it。
There。 Perfect。 An intellectual sexpot。 A worldly woman who read all about international
crises？and preferred to discuss said crisesin bed 。 If only she had a pair of vintage fifties reading
glasses to perch on the tip of her nose。
All the better to see you naked with！
As if on cue； Lord Marcus flung the bedroom door open and Blair turned her head slowly； as if
she could barely stand to break away from the current poultry deficit in Asia。 He was wearing a
perfectly tailored charcoal summer suit with an olive James Perse T…shirt underneath that made his
striking green eyes look serious and deep and oh…so…promising。
？What？s this； then？？ he asked； furrowing his golden…brown eyebrows。 ？Remember I said I had a
surprise？？
？I？ve got a surprise for you too；？ Blair cooed sexily。 ？e look under the sheets。？
？Right；？ he continued a little impatiently。 ？Well； put on your clothes； love。？
？I don？t want to；？ Blair plained； pouting。
He hurried across the room and kissed her quickly on the nose。 ？Later；？ he promised。 ？Now
throw on some clothes and meet me downstairs in the lobby。？ Then he turned and left the room；
leaving her perfumed； well…moisturized； and depilated body naked and alone。
This better be a good surprise。
Blair emerged from the wood…paneled elevator in a hastily chosen ensemble： a chocolate brown
Tory Burch tunic （thank you； Harrods）； a favorite pair of old True Religion jeans； and clunky gold
Marc by Marc Jacobs clogs。 She looked like a jet…setter on holiday。 Just right for a weekend jaunt
to Tunis in Lord Marcus？s private jet。 Couldthat be the surprise？
The grand； chandelierlit marble hotel lobby was abuzz with activity； but Blair noticed a hush fall
over the crowd as she crossed the tiled floor； her clogs clopping noisily； to the overstuffed black
velvet chaise where Marcus sat waiting for her。 He was so goddamn handsome Blair couldn？t help
admiring him； like he was a painting or some rare piece of sculpture； and it was hard to resist
plunging her fingers into the thick waves of his golden…brown hair。 She was so busy mentally
rhapsodizing over her gorgeous English lover that she barely noticed he was holding hands with
someone who wasdefinitely not her。
Ding； ding。 Hello？
Forgetting the romantic jaunt to Africa； Blair？s eyes narrowed at the horsy blonde holding her
boyfriend？s hand。What the fuck？
？Blair； at last；？ Lord Marcus greeted her smoothly； standing but not letting go of his
panion？s hand。 ？This； my dear； is my darling cousin Camilla； the one I told you about。 My
soul mate。 She？s in town for a couple of weeks。 We were practically twins growing up！ Isn？t that
the most marvelous surprise？？
？Marvelous；？ echoed Blair； throwing herself onto a nearby armchair。 She didn？t remember
hearing anything about any cousin Camilla。
But then； listening had never been her strong suit。
？I？m so delighted to meet you；？ said Camilla； staring down her long； prominent nose？the kind of
schnozz even the best plastic surgeon couldn？t fix。 Her pale English plexion was layered with
ical amounts of beige powder and primary…red blush。 Her legs were clownishly long and
skinny； like she？d been stretched on one of those old…fashioned lengthening machines Blair had
tried to find on eBay。
？Mimi just turned up yesterday morning； unannounced；？ Lord Marcus explained。 ？Imagine； like
a lost waif； with bags in hand。？ He chuckled。
？Yes； well； thankfully I can count on my dear Marmar to open up his home to me；？ Camilla
gushed； casually running her free hand through her long； flaxen hair。 Hair that could easily be cut
off in the middle of the night。
Wait？hishome ？
？You？re staying at his place？？ demanded Blair rudely； already hating the crooked…toothed
Camilla and her ugly yellow Indian silk sundress； which probably cost thousands but looked like a
tablecloth。 ？But I thought there wasn？t room。？
？There？s always room forfamily ；？ Lord Marcus answered； squeezing Camilla？s talonlike hand
before turning back to Blair。 ？Not to worry； sweetheart。 We？ll all have a grand time together。？
Sure they will。
money isn？t funny； honey
Blair couldn？t tell if the pounding was in her head？she？d put away quite a few whiskeys on the
plane？or if it was real。 She lifted her head： no； it was real； and it was ing from the door to the
bedroom where she？d crashed last night； the room formerly occupied by her hippie stepbrother；
Aaron Rose。
？Blair Cornelia Waldorf！？
There was more pounding。 It was her mother and her voice sounded 。 。 。 different。 Was she sick？
Did she have something in her mouth？
Eleanor Rose pushed the door open and stomped into the dark bedroom； perching on the edge of
the mattress。 She was carrying a mug of coffee and was dressed in her summertime sleep outfit； a
flouncy； way…too…short peachy Eberjey slip and matching robe。
？Wake up！？ she shrieked hoarsely。
Blair pulled the covers over her head and moaned。 Why was her mother carrying on like this so
early in the morning？
？Blair Waldorf；？ her mom hissed。 ？I？m serious； young lady。 e out from under there。 We need
to have a little chat。？
？I hope you know I barely slept；？ Blair snapped； sitting up and snatching the coffee from her
mother？s hands。 She took a long sip and tugged at the flimsy white Hanro camisole she？d chosen
to sleep in。
？First；？ Eleanor ranted； ？what are you doing home？？ Gripping her robe with one hand； she
leaned in and studied her daughter？s face。 ？You？re supposed to be in London！？
For a fiftysomething…year…old who？d just had a baby； Eleanor looked pretty good in the morning。
Blair wondered if her mom had had something done to her face while she was away； or maybe it
was some new eye cream Blair would eventually steal。
？Something came up。？ Blair reached for the green…tea…soaked eyepads she kept in a drawer in her
bedside table； placing one over each eye。
？Well； next time you might think to give me a call and let me know what you？re up to。？ Eleanor
snatched the eye pads away。 ？I had a call this morning from American Express。 I don？t like it
when my credit card pany knows my daugh…ter？s whereabouts before I do。？
？What？？ Blair demanded； sitting up a little straighter。
？American Express called because someone charged a 4；000 plane ticket to my account；？
Eleanor scolded。 ？I was about to call the police。 Then I noticed the new blue leather Herm？s
luggage set in the foyer。？
？I came in late；？ Blair explained。 ？I didn？t want to wake you。？
？That？s only part of the problem。？ Eleanor stood and paced around the room。 ？Blair； it？s about
time you learned some responsibility。 You？re not a child anymore。 You？re going tohave to learn
how to manage your money。？
This from the woman who bought each of her children a private island in the South Pacific！
？Mom；？ Blair whined。
？Don？t ？Mom？ me；？ Eleanor ordered sharply。 ？You know I never say no to my children； you
know that； don？t you？ I？ve always given you whatever you wanted； haven？t I？？
Well； wasn？t that her job？
？Yes； I have。？ Eleanor had never given a parental lecture before； and Blair could see she was
getting into it。 ？But this is too much。 I talked it over with Cyrus and we agreed that something has
to be done。？
Excuse me； why was her mother discussing her private business with Cyrus Rose； her stupid；
red…faced； tacky…assed stepfather？ ？I don？t even know what you？re talking about。？ Blair yawned；
draining the coffee cup。 She wondered how long this particular chat was going to last。 The whole
thing was just so 。。。boring 。 She needed more sleep； and a long bath； and a facial to get rid of all
the London grime； and maybe a haircut and a few face…framing highlights to go with her cleansed
and exfoliated face。
？What I？m talking about； Blair； is this American Express bill。？ Eleanor shook a wrinkled fax。 ？I
had them send it over as soon as the woman on the phone told me about your 。 。 。 shopping
exploits。？
Oops。
？Well； Mom；？ Blair admitted；