Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Dark Duke ❯ Fool ( Chapter 7 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Warnings: Cussing (...as usual. I'm sorry--I just like to swear)

A/N: The good news is I was able to get this out sooner than I planned--the bad news is I was able to do so while being extremely tired. So sorry if there are (more) mistakes (than usual).

And (of course!) thank you to everyone who reviews! You guys are awesome!

Chapter Seven: Foolish

Bulma did not generally think herself a fool (in fact, she knew she was usually the complete opposite of a fool, what with her being a genius and all)--but she knew what she doing right now was beyond foolish. As she got ready to leave her room again, dressing in the men's clothes she swore she would burn after the last time, Bulma had to keep ignoring the voices in the back of her head that were threatening doom and gloom if she actually went through with her plan of breaking into Vegeta's quarters.

It really was foolish (beyond foolish, as her heart did odd things when she thought about entering Vegeta's quarters), but at least it was not completely her fault that she was leaving. It was her brother's fault. Unknowingly, of course, but really, it was Goku's fault (or so she reasoned).

After her, ah...interesting experience on deck the last time, Bulma had admitted to her brother what she had done. Not everything, of course, but she had told him that she had gone above deck.

Well, truth be told, she had not admitted anything, as much as he had found her sketches of the ship the next day when he had been visiting her in her room. Goku had picked them up from her desk, smiling, "Bulma, what are these?"

Bulma, who had been pacing her tiny room (funny how some fresh air had really helped her sea sickness), froze, looking at her brother, making sure her voice was at its most innocent as she casually said, "oh, those are some...sketches. I just wanted to do some sketches...because...um...I just want to draw the ship so I can work on it." Not a complete lie...

Goku, who had been flipping through them, looked up at her, his eyes narrowing at her sugary sweet tones, his usual happy grin disappearing as he took his sister in. Goku generally believed the best of people, but he had known his sister for way too many years to not recognize those tones. He looked back down at the sketches, a frown forming as he told her, "Bulma, these sketches are really accurate."

Bulma, panicky now, made her eyes go large, trying to affect the most innocent look she could, "I drew them from memory," Goku's head shot up, his eyes meeting her own, and she rushed on, trying to cover herself, "you know, from when I saw the ship," his eyes hardened, and Bulma's voice got small as she added, "...from that first day?" Even to herself, Bulma knew she sounded unsure, questioning.

Goku looked at her closely, before looking back down to the sketches, flipping through them, until he found one particular one, pointing to the mast, "you remembered that there was a chunk of mast missing?"

Bulma gulped, but kept her head up, though she could not keep herself from sounding dubious as she responded. "Yes?"

Goku's frown deepened, looking unknowingly like his cousin, the Duke, as his features darkened, "Bulma, I took the chunk out of that mast my second day on the ship, when I accidentally swung a sledgehammer the wrong way."

Bulma's mouth quickly fell open, realizing she had walked right into his trap. Meeting her brother's gaze, all she could say was, "oh."

Goku's frown quickly disappeared (they usually did), looking worried rather than angry, "tell me the truth Bulma. How did you get these sketches? Have you been talking to some of the men on the ship?"

Bulma sighed, slumping on her bed, her eyes downward, since she knew Goku would not be pleased with what she had to say, "no--I haven't been talking to anyone...I...I uh... I left my room the other night."

Goku's gasp was loud, his voice worried, guilt stabbing through her as he said, "Bulma! What were you thinking?! You know how dangerous these sailors are!"

Bulma's guilt irritated her, so she lashed out at Goku, unable to stop herself from getting defensive, as her head popped up, "hey! I don't know that at all! How would I know what these sailors are really like?! I've been cooped up here, basically by myself, for three weeks! Dad and you can do whatever you want, and even mom gets to work in the kitchen! I'm constantly sick, bored out of mind, lonely and angry all at the same time!"

Goku's looked down at the plans in his hands after Bulma's outburst, before he looked back up, his features softening as he took in his sister, "I know Bulma, I know its been hard for you. I'm sorry that you've been sick, and that Vegeta has rules in place so that you can't go above deck. But those rules are in place for your own protection, no matter what he says. What if you had run in to anyone when you had been up there?"

Bulma's mouth opened, and she considered telling her brother about the run-in with Vegeta--but then she quickly closed her mouth, deciding against it, as she saw Goku's eyes flash angrily, and he continued, "these men...Bulma, they don't care if you're a lady or not, they just see you as a woman." His tone turned ominous, "if they see you, they will do bad things to you."

Bulma sighed, patting the spot on the bed next to her, waiting for Goku to sit down. When he did, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her tone placating, as she said in her softest voice, "I know. I know you said you couldn't even protect me if I went out there, and I'm sorry. But its just...I'm not made to be a prisoner Goku. You should know that better than anyone."

She heard him chuckle, as he placed an arm around her shoulder's, "true."

There was a pause, Bulma waiting, holding her breath, wanting to know if she had gotten out of trouble with Goku, before she heard his voice through his chest, deep, the vibrations running through her, "okay. If I get you the plans to the ship, will you promise me, and I mean it this time, promise me that you won't try and leave your room again?"

Bulma pulled away from Goku, looking up at him quizzically, "the plans to the ship? You know where they are? They're on board?"

Goku looked at her, nodding, "Vegeta has had me dine with him a few times, and he showed me where he keeps them in his room, telling me he designed the ship himself."

Bulma's mind had begun to whir with possibilities when she thought of getting her hands on the real plans to the ship, but then Goku's words registered, and she got sidetracked by what he had said, "wait--you've dined with Vegeta a few times?"

Goku nodded, and she could not stop herself from pulling a face, vastly curious about the Duke, "what's that been like?"

Goku smiled, "the foods been great!"

Bulma smirked, same old Goku, before she poked him, "no, not the food--I meant what's it been like with the Duke?"

Goku gave a shrug, his hand on the back of his head, "normal, I guess--or what we should expect to be normal in England."

"Oh?"

"Yeah--unlike at home, where people talk the whole time, well...Vegeta doesn't talk much." Bulma snorted, thinking that an understatement, but let Goku continue, as he tried to explain, "I mean, he tried to tell me about his family, but Vegeta's not a talker, ya know? He kinda just expects me to be on my best manners around him. Dad has been there a couple of the times, and its better when he's there as you know dad can talk about his inventions forever, and Vegeta has a ton of questions to ask dad about improving stuff, but when its just me and Vegeta...I don't know." Goku shrugged again, looking at a loss for words.

Bulma laughed, trying to imagine Goku, so genial, so happy, with Vegeta--so not happy or genial. She would have given anything to be a fly on the wall during a dinner between the long lost cousins. She could not help but mutter, "weird..."

Goku looked at her, earnestly, taking her hands, pulling her from her thoughts as he entreated, "Bulma, I can get you the plans though. I don't think Vegeta will let me take them, as he's really protective of them...something about defense...he explained it once, but I don't really remember," Goku looked far off, as if trying to remember what exactly Vegeta had said.

Bulma sighed, knowing she had to get Goku to focus, "oh yeah--how?"

Goku's eyes snapped back to hers, and he smiled, "how did I forget? I don't know Bulma, it's been a long trip--"

Bulma cut her brother off before he really got going, "no Goku, not about that! I meant, how can you get me the plans?"

Goku laughed, "oh that--I can create a distraction, and Krillin can grab the plans for me. But if I do this for you, you have to promise me you won't do anything stupid... again."

Bulma had smiled at her brother, glad to see her nefarious influence on him present in his plans--the Goku who had come to her years ago would never have schemed of a plan like this. He probably would have just tried to beat up everybody on the ship, grab the plans, and then not even have an escape plan ready. She was glad to see he was using the wits instead of his fists, and she nodded at him, "okay, fine. I promise." She waited just a beat before she continued, as innocently as she could muster, "so...when and how are you planning to do this?"

Any other person would have been suspicious about why this mattered, but Goku, being her sweet, endearing, naive brother, just smiled, "I'll do it sometime next week--it shouldn't be too hard to distract the whole crew, as they are a pretty bloodthirsty lot."

Bulma quirked an eyebrow, interested in her brother's choice of words, "bloodthirsty, huh?" At his nod, she continued, "so... how do you plan to distract them?"

Goku shrugged in an offhanded way, "I'll challenge Vegeta to spar. He's been making little comments about fighting me, but I've been telling him I don't want to."

Bulma sighed inwardly--okay, so maybe he was using his fists as well as his wits. Still an improvement...

But then Goku's words sunk in, and Bulma grew confused, "but why wouldn't you want to? You love to fight!"

Goku sheepishly smiled, before he admitted, "I don't want to beat him in front of everyone, and I'm pretty sure I would win. He has a lot of pride, and I don't think the Duke would take too kindly too me if I embarrassed him in front of everyone."

Bulma had looked at her brother, stunned, and then had burst out laughing. "Oh Goku..."

Now, here she was, having gotten confirmation from her younger brother that this was the day he planned to challenge Vegeta, ready to hear the start of a commotion, so she could sneak upstairs. She knew she had promised Goku she would not do this again--but she had said she would not after he got the plans. Nothing about this liminal time period between him telling her his plan, and him actually getting her the designs. So she, technically, was not breaking her promise.

And she was not being foolish about this (despite what the inner voices were saying)--she was really just trying to make sure everything went according to plan.

Not that she did not trust Krillin--but she really did not trust him enough to not screw things up. Krillin was not sly like she was, and he was likely to be caught when he tried to enter Vegeta's room, ruining everything. So she had taken it upon herself to get there first, grab the plans, and be back in her room before anyone would even realize she was gone.

Simple, right?

Bulma was pacing by her door, hearing nothing but the uneventful sounds of the regular ship day, when all of the sudden she heard pounding feet stomp past her, running down the hall as someone shouted, "the Duke and the Viscount are going to spar! They're going to spar!"

Suddenly her hallway was alight with the sounds of commotion, as the sailors pushed and ran past each other to get to the top deck, a loud clamor her signal that everyone who had been below deck was following the original messenger back up the stairs, leaving below deck nice and empty.

Bulma waited until she heard silence, then gave herself a few more minutes to make sure it was completely quiet, before she left the sanctuary of her room, her hair tied and tucked under the scarf, her breasts bound, this time, by some cloth she had gotten from her brother. She opened her door, and rather than sneak down the hallway, like she had the last time she had left this room, Bulma walked confidently, trying to give herself the air of someone who knew what they were doing, as if she belonged on the ship.

Still, when she got to the stairs that led to the top deck, Bulma felt a moment of trepidation as she heard the raised voices, the excitement, and the sound of fist meeting flesh.
She took a deep, calming breath, closing her eyes, before opening them, and continued the rest of the way up the stairs.

She told herself when she reached sunlight to not even turn towards the fight, but to rather make her way directly to Vegeta's room, get the plans, and be back downstairs before the spar could finish, the distraction of the fight being her best cover for what she was doing. But the second Bulma could see above deck, feeling the heat of the sun on her for the first time in almost a month, Bulma was pulled, as if by some invisible string, not to the empty side of the deck, where Vegeta's quarters were, but rather to the crowd, the sound of the fight, the excitement of the crew catching her interest.

Unbidden, she could not help but be drawn to the fight, questions forming in her mind as she made her way to the crowd: would Goku really thrash Vegeta? Or would the Duke surprise Goku by proving that he was stronger than he looked? Would this plan really work? Were the men on this ship so bloodthirsty, a simple fight would completely capture their attention?

Bulma kept herself small as she made her way to the outside of the ring of big, burly men surrounding her brother and the Duke, keeping her eyes low, in case some one noticed her, knowing it would be her delicate facial features that would give her away first. When she finally cautiously peeked up to the men standing closest to her, she saw everyone's attention was riveted on the fight, and that no one could care less about her.

The men were standing on the railing, on the ropes that led to the crow's nest, on anything that would give them a better view of the fight, cheering, wagers being shouted at loud volumes. Bulma was captured by the spectacle for a few moments, the energy of the crew as they watched the fight enrapturing her--but her attention was soon captured by the sounds of the fight she could hear but could not see from where she stood at the back of the circle.

Bulma tried to stand on her tiptoes, but she was small by normal standards, while most of the sailors were tall, even by giant standards, and so her view was of the backs of the crew she had yet to meet. Bulma grew frustrated with seeing nothing but human flesh (and smelly human flesh at that), and began to look around, trying to find something to stand on, when she heard a loud, "LOOK OUT!"

The crowd parted quickly, as a body came flying past Bulma, hitting the side of the ship with a thud, a man with spiky black hair crumpling to the ground. Bulma let out a gasp, but it was not heard over the cheers, as her eyes were drawn to the man who was attempting to stand, Goku's grin so large, that she could not mistake him for his unsmiling cousin. It seemed he was losing--but it also seemed as if he did not care, as the shit-eating grin he only seemed to get in the middle of a fight was present.

Bulma quickly took in her shirtless brother, noting the marks and swells that were sure to turn to bruises, her heart beat hammering as the crowd moved around Goku, parting to allow Vegeta to calmly walk towards where Goku stood. But Bulma's eyes were on her brother, hoping he knew what he was doing. She did not think the Duke would hurt her brother too much, considering he had traveled to America to find him--but she knew that men could lose themselves in fights, and she was not sure she trusted the Duke. No--she knew she did not trust the Duke.

Bulma, though, got distracted as she realized that the circle had rearranged around the cousins, pushing her to the front of the crowd. She felt slightly ill as she realized how exposed she was as she stood in full view of a crew of men who she had repetitively been warned against. Dressing like a man in the middle of the night was one thing--but dressing as a man in the middle of the day, when the whole of the crew was surrounding her, was beyond stupid she realized with a sudden clarity that always seemed to hit her when her plans were going wrong...hindsight being 20/20 and all that. Her heart had stopped beating, and her skin had gone pale, and Bulma desperately wished she had listened to every stupid word the Duke and her brother had told her about coming above deck.

Bulma quickly tried to turn, pushing herself out of the circle, but found nothing but human bodies, pressing against her as the men followed the fight, pressing her closer to the two men on board who were sure to recognize her in a heartbeat. Bulma gave a frustrated sigh at finding herself trapped, but felt a modicum of relief as she realized all of the men's eyes were glued to the fight that was going on, no one taking notice of her, not even the big man she recognized as Vegeta's valet...or bodyguard...or something. She quickly scanned the faces of the men, and let out a loud sigh of relief when she saw her father was not amongst the men currently above deck. Well at least everyone who knew her was distracted...

Bulma decided her best course of action would be to wait. This fight would shift again, and she would be free to run back downstairs, unnoticed, her plans of snatching the blueprints completely abandoned as she realized how reckless she was being in not trusting Krillin to grab them himself. Let the bald midget grab them for her if he loved her so much--that would be his neck on the line, not hers, and she would prefer to keep it that way.

So Bulma decided to blend, turning back towards the fight, cheering with the rest of the men, pitching her voice low, hunching her shoulders over, trying to affect the mannerisms of a sailor. Not that she knew what those were, but she still affected them, using her quick intellect to observe the men around her as she turned back to the fight.

When she looked back to the fight, her brother's large back was to her, his posture recognizable, as she had watched him spar plenty of times. She cheered him on, watching as he twisted out of the Duke's way. She could not see Vegeta from this vantage point, as her brother's big body had him good and covered, but she could tell he was fast. Maybe the Duke was a lot tougher than she imagined, especially if he was holding his own against Goku...

Her brother was unrivaled in New York, and the only thing that stopped him from making a career as a successful pugilist was his genuine disinterest in making money. On fighting, or on anything in general. She smiled as she remembered having to convince him it was not a waste of money to sleep on a bed, rather than the floor when he had first lived with them.

She was drawn back into the fight, though, when Goku sidestepped a particularly vicious looking punch, ducking and weaving out of the way, Vegeta finally coming into her view as he followed Goku's moves. Bulma's eyes grew large, and she felt like she had been punched in the stomach by one of the Duke's vicious looking right hooks, the air leaving her with a soft Ôoof,' as she drank the sight of him in.

Seeing him, standing there, so poised to strike, so regal, so elegant--so shirtless, Bulma was beyond shocked. Vegeta was not as big and as broad as her brother was, but he was no less muscular--just muscular in a different way. He was smaller, more compact, but his body was defined, every inch of him honed to its most perfect musculature, making him (and she was not exaggerating as she was a scientist) the most perfect specimen of manhood. He just looked so virile, and sturdy, and Bulma, who was not a swooner, felt very close to giving into a good swoon. Maybe he would catch her with those powerful arms--Bulma had to stop herself from licking her lips at imagining those arms around her...again, she realized belatedly.

As Vegeta followed Goku's movements, with all the grace of a predator waiting to strike, her mouth went slack as she took him in as she moved, the elegance of his movements reminding her not of pugilism, but of the skilled Russian ballet troupe she had seen once in Manhattan. He was flawless, especially as his bronzed muscles bunched and moved as he effortlessly moved and fought, shirtless, and his expression--that made her give a little gasp as well.

The Duke was smiling.

His smile was not as large (or goofy looking) as Goku, and true, she had seen him smile twice before (funny that she could remember that)--but this smile, he just looked...he just looked so happy, that Bulma felt herself further entranced. When he smiled he truly became a different person, everything about him softening and making her want to reach out and touch him.

As Bulma took him in, uncaring, and unnoticing as the circle moved away from her, pushing her back to the back of the group, her view of Vegeta lost, Bulma was hit with the full force of the desire she had been feeling for the Duke since the second she had met him--and what she had been staunchly ignoring since their kiss a week ago. All of the memories flooded her as she felt warmth spread through her body, everything she had been trying to suppress coming to the forefront as she stared mutely to the spot Vegeta had just been in.

The sensations of when he had kissed her, touching her, had completely overwhelmed her at the time. The kiss had not been long, but it had been so...possessive--as if he wanted to make his mark on every inch of her skin. The worst part was she wanted him too--not that she knew that at the time, as she was so scared out of her mind about her situation. But she remembered the way his lips had pressed into hers, how his tongue had tasted her mouth, how he had sucked the very air from her lungs--and Bulma knew she wanted it to happen again. What scared her though, was that she knew it just was not the kissing she wanted--she wanted Vegeta with the same savage need to possess him that he had displayed towards her.

But how could this be possible? How could she greatly desire a man she was not sure she even liked? No, she was pretty sure she hated him--throwing her complete desire to be with him, touching him, holding him, breathing him in--into a vast confusion. How could she feel things for Vegeta, she had only felt in a faint comparison with Yamcha, a man she thought she was in love with? And what was she doing? He was a Duke--the very Duke that had come to rip her life apart--she should feel nothing but hatred for him. And she did, there was no denying her hatred...but the pull she felt to him, even now, completely bewildered her.

Especially as she was sure, to the Duke, she was nothing more than a silly chit who he found great amusement in kissing. Surely the way the kiss had effected him was minimal in comparison to what she was currently going through...the man probably laughed at being able to kiss her speechless...

Bulma heard a particularly vicious sounding thwack, pulling her from reverie, and she regained her senses, turning back to the group of men who were still cheering the fight on. She saw them raise a loud cheer, muttering amongst themselves, and Bulma realized that her time on deck was growing way too long. Every second she stood there, motionless, was another second closer to her being discovered.

So she kept her head low, and fled back to her room, the need to escape completely overwhelming her. Bulma pounded down the steps, running down the hallway to the room she suddenly saw, not as a prison, but as a sanctuary, before bursting in, and slamming the door shut behind her.

The second she was closed in the safe haven that was her room, Bulma slid to the floor against the door, her mouth and eyes wide as she wondered just what she had gotten herself into.

"I should have stayed in America..."

~~&~~

Vegeta stood at the bow of the ship, his back ramrod straight, as the Saiyan Lady traveled down the Thames, London looming large above him. As the more familiar landmarks slipped past him with the tides, Vegeta let out a contented sigh. Vegeta was not one to usually give a damn about where he lived, or getting home (his many years at sea had seen to that), but he had to admit that it was good to be home, back to London, where things made a hell of a lot more sense than they did in America.

Sure, he had the problem of transforming his country bumpkin of a cousin into a proper viscount, of getting in contact with Basil, as soon as he possibly could, and of seeing if the widow would be amiable towards an assignation so he could rid himself of some of the lustful demons he had been unable to chase out since meeting the blue-hared wench, but for now, right now, at this moment, he was content to pass the familiar sights of his homeland, anxious to get to his estate in Mayfair, at Grosvenor Square, the richest area of homes in London proper, where anyone with a title was sure to own a large town residence.

This trip across the Atlantic, one he had made plenty of times, had been the longest, most agonizing trip of his life--and it all came down to one person. He should not have kissed her. He realized that now, but at the time, he had been unable to resist the pull of her perfect, rosebud mouth. Ever since that kiss, though, he had been unable to cast her from his mind, and found himself trying to think of reasons to go knock on her door, even if just to see her again. Or, to do what he truly desired--bust her door down, carry her upstairs to his large bed, and make her moan and scream for hours on end.

Not that he was even sure Bulma really wanted him. As he thought to the short kiss on deck that night, Vegeta, who was not a cringer, wanted to cringe as he realized he had been the one groaning, the one unable to stop themselves. Bulma had not even reacted, not that he had needed her too at the time, or given her the real chance too, but, if he were a lesser man, Vegeta would admit that he was a bit stung by her non-reaction.

But Vegeta knew that if he truly wanted to--he could make Bulma crazy for him, have her crave him, moaning and panting until her throat was hoarse and she was so satiated, she could not even walk (something he had to admit he had dreamed of more than once in the past month).

It was a good thing he did not want to though--he knew his lust for her was based mainly on her being the most attractive female he had been around in months (by default), and his self-imposed celibacy needed to end. And soon. So he could get back to being annoyed by the blue-hared wench--not wanting her!

"London Shipyards ahead!"

Vegeta felt himself relax the tiniest bit as he heard the captain yell that--he was home. So damn close.

The ship rocked slightly as it hit the side of the dock, but Vegeta hardly noticed as he decided it was time to get moving. As Vegeta turned, he ignored the twinge in his neck, one of the many leftover aches that he had from his fight with his cousin from a few days ago, though he did not show an ounce of pain on the outside. Kakarrot was more skilled as a fighter than he had anticipated--the other surprise from his American guests on this trip.

Vegeta had anticipated some form of natural ability from Kakarrot's Saiyan roots when it came to fighting, but he had not expected him to be so skilled, so studious, such a good fighter--had that old pervert who Kakarrot called Master actually been worth his salt? Sure, Vegeta had beaten Kakarrot in the long run, but Vegeta could not shake the feeling that Kakarrot was not really fighting to beat him, but only to entertain himself for some measure of time.

It felt like to Vegeta that every time that Vegeta would get close to finishing Kakarrot off, Kakarrot would surprise him by ducking and weaving, showing bursts of ingenuity and planning that belied the rest of the sloppy way he was fighting. He had been Vegeta's personal punching bag for a long measure of the fight, but Vegeta knew the difference between a man who was fighting to win, and fighting to lose. And Kakarrot had been fighting to lose...

Vegeta shook himself from thoughts of the fight, though, when he realized the ship was almost ready for him to leave, being tied to the dock. Within minutes Vegeta was striding from the ship, much quicker than he usually did, his items left behind carelessly, as he knew someone else would gather them up. He noted the surprised looks on some of the men in the crew, but Vegeta ignored them. Usually, Vegeta spent lots of time on his ship when it docked, often the last one to go home--but today he needed to put some distance between himself and the Saiyan Lady.

Mostly because he knew that Bulma would be coming topside any moment, and he was not completely sure he trusted himself around her. Vegeta usually prided himself on his ironclad control, but he had to admit that around her...he sometimes grew powerless. It was not a feeling he relished, and not one he was desperate to repeat. So he shouted orders to the useless man who had the title of captain, found Nappa, giving him instructions on what to do with his cousin, and he was off before anyone else on the ship could blink.

The horse ride to his manor was quick, as Vegeta had taken it many times, and he used the chance to push the rented horse fast and hard through the crowded thoroughfare, needing to clear his head. The more distance he put between himself and Kakarrot (and Bulma) the easier it became to breath and think as he usually did. Vegeta needed a clear head at all times, and losing his control of his emotions (as he so often did around the Americans), was not something he could afford. Especially as he was expecting a correspondence from Basil, concerning...well concerning things of great interest to the Duke, that he needed a clear head to process and plan for accordingly.

When Vegeta walked up the steps to his fashionable town home, his growing sense of relief at being here startled him. He entered the home with more relish than usual, and he was not surprised to see Jeffries, the same butler who had served his father, standing at the wait, his head bowed in respect, "your grace."

Vegeta nodded at the according show of respect, something he had not received from anyone in America, though Vegeta continued to stride into his home as he spoke, "Jeffries. I will be in my office, please send all of my correspondence in, and make sure I am not disturbed for the next few hours. I have much to catch up on. Push anything from Basil to the front, please, and have someone at the wait for my response to him--which I will need delivered immediately."

Jeffries' acquiescence was quick, "of course your grace." There was a pause, and Vegeta almost made it all the way to his office before Jeffries calmly cleared his throat, catching Vegeta's attention, "there is the slight matter of..."

Jeffries pause startled him, and Vegeta turned to look at the man, wondering what had his unflappable butler looking uncomfortable, "the slight matter of...?" Vegeta prompted as Jeffries continued to be silent.

Jeffries stood straighter (if that was possible), before he said in his most regal voice, "I am to announce that the Dowager Duchess of Vegeta has been in residence for the last three days, and is currently waiting for you in the front sitting room."

Vegeta, upon hearing Jeffries words, felt his heart drop into his stomach, though nothing in his outward appearance changed, except for the slight narrowing of his eyes, his frustration beyond apparent as he spoke coldly, "the Duchess is here?"

Jeffries gave a slight nod, and Vegeta sighed, loudly, before he turned to face Jeffries, "you will tell the Duchess I will see her when I can as I am a very busy man, and do not have time for a social call. Also, see if you can get her out of the house, set up somewhere else--oh, and prepare...four rooms for guests, one in my wing, the rest in the West wing."

Jeffries was giving a bow, not even flapped by Vegeta's odd requests when the front sitting room door flew open, slamming hard against the wall, Vegeta's attention completely caught. His face was stoic as he turned towards the sound, taking in the old (yet hearty and strong) woman, who stood on the other side of the threshold, her dark eyes flashing indignantly as she pointed her cane at Vegeta, "you will see me now, grandson, as I do not make the trip to London lightly."

Vegeta was completely unable to stop himself from muttering, "oh fuck."
~~&~~
A/N: What's this? A grandmother? But Vegeta does not have a grandmother!
Well she does here--and by Vegeta's reaction, I think we can all surmise she is not going to be a loving, gentle grandmother...tune in next time to find out her reaction to Kakarrot!
Also, I realize that my plan of releasing shorter chapters more often is failing here--I think every chapter I write is getting longer...