you？ll just follow me； Dominick will tend to your luggage。？
？Thank you；？ Blair replied graciously； pleased with herself for having made Chuck call and
pretend to be her father； booking her a suite only minutes before she arrived。 Of course； she could
have asked her dad to call himself； but he was in Germany buying a plane or a car？she wasn？t sure
which？for his new French boyfriend； Giles； and she didn？t want to bother him。
The Yale Club lobby was businesslike and unfussy； with a black…and…white marble floor； white
walls； and a few Yale…blue wing…back chairs scattered about。 Blair kept her chin up as the staff
scurried about with her bags and keys； imagining she was Elizabeth Taylor； back in the days when
she was beautiful； thin； and glamorous； arriving at some simple bed…and…breakfast in a small town
in Scotland where her new film was being shot。 She could tolerate the old…fashioned； crusty
surroundings so long as she spent most of her time in the bar。
She followed the black…vested； bow…tie…wearing concierge into one of the old wood…paneled
elevators and stood silently waiting for the door to close； praying that her suite would have lots of
closet space and decent sheets。 It was precisely one of those awkward； mundane little moments
that made her feel like most of life was just waiting for something to happen。
But then； somethingdid happen。
？Hold it！？ a tall； broad…shouldered boy shouted as he dashed into the elevator。 His light brown
hair was short and wavy； and his skin was tanned a nice golden brown color。 His glittering green
eyes were framed by long； golden brown lashes； and his girlish red mouth was set off by a
masculine square chin。
？Cheers；？ he thanked the concierge in a British accent。 Then he turned and stood facing Blair；
unabashedly checking her out as the elevator doors rolled shut behind him。
Looks like Elizabeth has found her Richard Burton。
Blair teetered on her gold Manolo Egyptian Goddess sandals as they glided upwards。 What a
charming British accent。 What a beautiful crisp white shirt and perfectly ironed Helmut Lang jeans。
What adorable Church？s of London tan lace…up shoes。 What golden brown hair； what green eyes；
what great height！ He was like a taller； handsomer version of Nate？but even better than Nate；
because of that delicious accent！
Isn？t she supposed to be through with men？ But a super…British version of Nate？ e on； who
could resist？
The elevator stopped on the fourth floor。 The boy stood aside； and the concierge stepped out。 ？If
you？ll just follow me； miss；？ he said； motioning to Blair to follow him。 Blair hesitated。 How could
she leave such a delicious…looking boy behind？
？After you； miss；？ the boy murmured quietly； pressing the door…open button so Blair wouldn？t
get squashed。
？Right this way；？ the concierge prompted； leading the way down the Yale blue？carpeted hallway。
Blair stepped out into the hall and began to follow the concierge； walking as slowly as possible。
Then suddenly the boy was walking beside her； exuding pleasant odors and looking delighted with
his own hotness。
The concierge stopped at the end of the hallway。 ？Yours is the junior suite； miss。 Right next to
His Lordship？s。？
HisLord ship？！
The English boy smiled at Blair as he fumbled with his key。 ？Lord Marcus Beaton…Rhodes；？ he
introduced himself； thrusting his hand out。 Blair noticed right away he was wearing a Yale
ring。 ？Embarrassingly enough； my friends at Yale all call me Lord。？
Lord。 I？d like you to meet my boyfriend； Lord。 This is my husband； Lord。 We met at Yale。 The
lord and his gorgeous wife will be vacationing on their yacht in the South of France this spring
with their perfect family before a long sojourn at their summer castle in Cornwall。 ？
？And you are？？
Blair fluttered her thick； mascaraed eyelashes； awakening from her delicious daydream。 ？Blair
Cornelia Waldorf；？ she trilled； sounding exactly like Audrey Hepburn inBreakfast at Tiffany？s
when she first introduces herself to her new neighbor； Paul Varjak。 ？Actually； I？m starting at Yale
this fall。？
？And I？ve just finished there。 Wa…hey！？ Lord Marcus tossed his keys into his room and kicked
off his shoes in the doorway。 ？Blimey； I？m late for squash； but let？s ？？ He smiled shyly。 ？Shall we
get together for a drink tonight？？
Blair nodded in dumb agreement。 She could hardly believe her luck。
？See you in the lounge at seven； then。？
The lord closed his door and the concierge deposited the adjacent suite？s keys into Blair？s
hand。 ？Your bags will be here in a moment。 Is everything all right； Miss Waldorf？？
？Bloody hell！？ she heard the lord exclaim in his adorable accent as he crashed around in his suite。
Blair imagined him throwing his beautiful； tailor…made English clothes all over the place as he
hunted for something to wear for squash。 If she were his girlfriend； she？d color…code his shirts for
him and alphabetize his shoes according to designer so he wouldn？t have to thrash around so
much looking for things。
Of course she would。
She stepped inside her room and flopped down on the king…size bed to listen； her eyes darting
around the room as she did so； taking it all in。 It was small and shabby…chic； erring on the shabby
side； the gold accents on the curtains and bedspread and the Regency blue？patterned wallpaper the
only attempts at grandeur。 It wasn？t exactly the Plaza； but therewas a hot English lord living next
door。
Yes； yes？everything wasmore than all right。
what boarding schoolers do when they？re bored
It was already five in the afternoon by the time Jenny and her father arrived at the Croton School；
in Croton Falls； New York。 Rufus？s weekly wine and beat poetry night with his weirdo anarchist
poet cronies was starting in an hour at a speakeasy in Greenwich Village； and he was getting antsy。
Croton was only an hour and a half from the city by train； and Jenny was anxious to ditch him；
anyway； so she offered to take the train home。
？Don？t get off at 125th Street；？ Rufus advised； even though the stop was closest to their
apartment。 He handed Jenny three twenty…dollar bills。 ？Go all the way to Grand Central and then
get a cab。 And call me when you？re leaving so I can tell your brother when to expect you。？
Like Dan really cared if sheever came home。 Lately Dan had been so preoccupied； he barely
seemed to remember that they used to kind of be friends。
Jenny kissed her father on the cheek。 It was cute how he babied her； but she was almost
fifteen？she could take care of herself。 ？Have a nice night； Daddy；？ she told him sweetly。 She
waved good…bye as the battered navy blue Volvo station wagon disappeared down the road。 Then
she unbuttoned her blouse another notch and stepped inside a cute red clapboard house with a gold
plaque on its hunter…green…painted door that read ADMISSIONS； eager to meet her Croton tour
guide。
？You！？ a male voice crowed enthusiastically as soon as she opened the door。 ？It？s you！？
Jenny？s pretty red mouth dropped open in shock。 Leering at her from across the quaintly
decorated admissions office reception area was a more masculine； less flamboyantly dressed clone
of Chuck Bass。 Same European…aftershave…mercial…handsome face； same slicked…back dark
hair； same cocky smile； same perverted twinkle in the eye。 He walked over and held out his hand；
a gold monogrammed pinky ring flashing on his right hand。 ？I？m your tour guide。 Name？s Harold
Bass。 Call me Harry。 You may know my cousin Charles Bass？goes by Chuck。 He told me all about
you。 And of course I？ve seen your pictures on the ？Net。？
Oh； God。
Jenny mustered a smile。 Chuck Bass had nearly deflowered her in a stall in a ladies？ room in the
old Barneys building during her first dressy benefit party that fall； and Jenny was still a little
scared of him。 But the Basses were a powerful Upper East Side family notorious for their
philanthropy and decadence and the wild ways of their fucked…up children。 If Chuck？s cousin
liked it at Croton； then it was probably just the sort of school Jenny was looking for。
？Don？t be put off by how str