Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Dark Duke ❯ Your (Saving) Grace ( Chapter 34 )

[ 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. But if I did own DBZ...mwahahahahahahahhaha. Ahem, yes.

Warnings: Cussing and adult language

A/N: Lilpumpkingirl, you owned it, as usual. I am so lucky to have someone who can handle my crazy ass.

Thank you to everyone who has left a favorite, or review--you guys rock. Big love to all of my readers, because (drum roll, please...) today is the TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY of when I first published this story! Seriously, that is amazing, and I can't believe you guys continue to put up with me and my totally inconsistent story updating. If I had known that my urge to write a Bulma and Vegeta in a regency romance fanfic would lead to meeting so many new amazing people, I would have started publishing it much sooner than I did. I love you all--last year I promised you cookies, this year if I could, I would bring you all pie. It's been a crazy journey, and I can't wait to finish it with you guys. Seriously, if you don't already know it, I love you.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Your (Saving) Grace

Bulma sat inside one of the spare offices that she was currently using as her base of operations at Saiyan Manor, pouring over her notes from the captain of the Saiyan Monarch who had been taking her ship out almost daily since their first test run about a month ago now. She had missed most of his correspondence when she was at Vegetasei, but now that she had been back at Saiyan Hall for the last two days, she had found a stack of it that had not been forwarded to her, and she had fallen on it, grateful for the distraction it provided from the rest of her life. Work, the one thing she could always count on when everything around her was going to...Well, shit. Ê

But she was not going to think about that, instead focusing on just exactly how her pet project was coming along. The captain had written nothing but glowing letters about how much faster his ship was and how he was the envy of every other captain at the harbor. Not only that, but he had received letters of interest from all over the world, everyone wanting to become a part of history with Bulma's steam engine. Bulma was glad to see amidst the praise the captain had done the time trials she had expected, letting her know what changes needed to be made to the already near perfect steam engine. Thankfully there was nothing serious (no fires or capsizing! If that wasn't success...), but Bulma knew that that did not mean the ship was anywhere close to being finished. It was up to her to keep trying, keep experimenting--and then to put that baby on market once her patent was approved, adding to Capsule Corp and Vegetasei's already sterling reputation.

Bulma did feel extremely pleased at this, but, as she rested her hand on the small swell of her stomach, she could not help but stare into the ether, her mind wandering as it had seemed to do a lot of these past few days. It seemed to be the same thoughts that had been racing through her head ever since that night a few days ago where her and Vegeta had started to fight. She could tell her husband was hiding something, something large, from her--but she could not for the life of her figure it out. He evaded her questions about his brother, and he flat out refused to tell her just what in the hell was so important that he had been ready to leave Vegetasei in the middle of the night without telling her. Not only that, but when she tried to confront him about her fears, he had been cruel, crueler than he had ever been with her--almost as if he were trying to drive her away. Which, knowing his track record, she would not be surprised if that was exactly what he was trying to do. What it all came down to, then, was that Bulma needed answers, as she was growing tired of thinking over the same thoughts for almost three days straight with no new insights or revelations.

Bulma sighed, putting the captain's correspondence down, getting up and walking over to the window that faced over the garden. She let her mind wander, instead, to what her husband was doing at this exact moment. She did not even know if he was home, or indeed if he had been sleeping in their bedroom these last two nights, as she had not been in his bedchamber since they had come to London. Instead, she had been occupying the Duchesses' rooms, sleeping in there not to arouse suspicion, while she worked as far away from both his secret office and living quarters as she possibly could. Not because she was avoiding him...well, no--that was exactly what she was doing. She was avoiding him. Mainly because she was tired of fighting with him, and because she knew the more she pushed him for answers, the more he would push her away. Not for the first time did she wish the man she had married was not as secretive or stubborn as he was...though would she have fallen for the man if he were anyone else?

Not that that mattered if her sneaking suspicions about just what he was up to were correct....

Bulma heaved another heavy sigh, turning away from the window, looking at the clock on the mantle, realizing she would have to start getting ready for the dinner party Vegeta had picked as their only social event while in town was in a few hours. She wondered if Vegeta would remember, or if she would have to seek him out, secret office or no, reminding him of his duty to her to act as a husband at least while in public. He owed her that at the very least. In fact, he owed her way more than that, but with Vegeta she had learned to take what she could get. Though she had to admit it almost had her worried how quickly Vegeta had acquiesced to coming to a social event with her. That could not bode well for whatever the hell he was planning, that he would willingly submit himself to a social event to appease her. Ê

As Bulma turned to the door, though, she was surprised to see a shadow through the space between the closed door and the floor, her confusion growing as she watched the shadow approach, turn away, approach, turn away, and approach then turn away a final time before her curiosity got the better of her. Bulma walked to the door, throwing it open, surprised to find the usually impeccably infallible Jeffries standing two feet from the door, his back to her, murmuring to himself. Bulma smirked as he straightened, looking over his shoulder and catching her eye, before he froze.

Looking quite like the fox that had been cornered by the hounds (causing Bulma to genuinely smile for the first time in ages), he cleared his throat, turning away before he turned back, facing her, his butler face on as he respectfully inclined his head. "Your Grace."

Bulma resisted the urge she had to curtsy towards him, instead giving a small nod of acknowledgement. "Jeffries. I trust you are well."

Jeffries nodded his head, emphatically, before he seemed to catch his snafu, straightening himself again. "Of course, your Grace."

Bulma stared at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly, waiting for him to tell her just what in the hell he was doing. He just continued to stare at her, the muscles in his throat working as he seemed to still be deciding whether or not to tell her whatever he had traveled up here to tell her. Bulma, deciding she did not have all day to stand there, waiting for Jeffries to decide whether or not he should tell her something stopped herself from asking just what in the hell he wanted (the American way), and was proud of herself for only giving an encouraging cough, prompting him to speak--which she thought was rather subdued and passive aggressive (aka the British way) of her.

Jeffries, seeming to catch the hint, gave a slight bow, again, "Your grace, a few days ago, you requested for me to tell you when the dowager was back in residence." He paused again, and Bulma only raised one eyebrow, a move she had seen Vegeta make a thousand times over with servants, peers, and family alike. That seemed to get Jeffries to start moving, and he barely stuttered as he said, "She is back, your Grace. Currently in the blue room by the front door."

Bulma felt an odd sense of expectation at hearing the dowager was in residence, and found a smile on her face as she walked past him, "Excellent. Please have tea service brought to the blue room. I need to speak to her."

Jeffries, seemingly unable to stop himself, only asked, "You want to speak to her?" That took Bulma aback, stopping to look at him, shocked. But not as shocked as Jeffries was, his mouth dropping open for a moment, his hand covering it, before he gave a quick bow, "Tea service, at once, your Grace," fleeing from her before he said or did anything else that could be construed as less than the best behavior.

Bulma watched him retreat for a second, smiling as she shook her head. She did not blame Jeffries the unflappable for being...well, flapped, by this. Even Bulma was questioning whether or not she wanted to willingly submit herself to being in the same room as the dowager, especially as Vegeta's tales of her from his childhood came back to her--but no. Bulma did not only want to speak to her--she needed to.

Because the truth of the matter was that Bulma was afraid that what Vegeta was hiding from her, and the only person who would be willing to give her answers was the spiteful old hag she was now related to through family.

Bulma only heaved a heavy sigh, steeled her resolve, then set off to the blue room.

~~&~~

"Come to gloat, have you?"

Bulma had barely crossed the threshold to the blue room before these words were spat at her, the vitriol behind them hitting her like a physical force, stopping her right inside the room. She could hardly stop herself from responding in her most affronted voice, her natural reaction the fastest one. "Excuse me?"

The dowager was seated by the fresh tea service, her lips drawn in such a thin line they were barely visible, as she continued in the same hateful tone, "I asked if you had come to gloat? Bagging my grandson--you are quite proud of yourself aren't you?"

Bulma's jaw was almost touching the floor, never having been spoken to in such a way before. She thought she had properly steeled herself for the soulless black hole that was the dowager--but it seemed that the dowager had been polite with her in the beginning. Now that Bulma was family, apparently, she was to be spared no niceties at all. Still, Bulma had been trained to be a lady, and she was going to be a lady (dammit!) and put a smile on her face as she spoke to this vulture of an old crow. She could think of no better way to needle the old woman than to appear as if none of this was affecting her.

So Bulma ignored the dowager, letting silence be her only answer as she calmly walked to the tea tray. She served herself some, as well as the dowager though she did not dare hand the old woman hot liquid of any sort (Bulma had the feeling it was more likely to end up in Bulma's face than in the dowagers stomach), instead placing it in front of her, as she daintily sat across from the old bat. Bulma took her time, taking a tiny sip of her tea, before placing it down, the dowager's beady black eyes ice-cold chips that glinted as they maliciously stared at her. Bulma did not doubt that if she were not so obsessed with her family's reputation the dowager would have clubbed her to death with that cane she always carried with her, the rubies in the eyes of the ape at the top of her cane more human than the ones in the old bitches head.

Bulma forced herself to be at her most proper, and instead of answering the woman's hatred she only said, "I trust you are well. I am sorry we were not able to have you at the wedding."

The dowager's eyes narrowed, her lips thinning further as she curtly said, "How could anyone have been at such a wedding? As far as I know there was no proposal, no engagement--only your brother forcing my grandson to marry you."

Bulma had to stop herself from jumping across the table and grabbing the older woman's rather thin neck and throttling her, instead giving a polite smile. She might be polite on the outside, but that did not stop her from fantasizing about snapping the twig like neck between her extremely capable hands. She was sure it would not be a crime, especially considering just whose neck she would be snapping. Surely anyone who knew her could attest to the fact that the dowager was barely human. Bulma's voice carried none of these thoughts, though, as she only answered serenely, "There was no forcing to be done at the wedding. Your grandson offered his suite, I accepted, and since we were conveniently in Gretna Green, we decided to marry there instead of having to wait if we came back here."

The dowager snarled at her, her teeth bared, her voice barely a whisper, "Don't you dare lie to me, or think me stupid enough to fall for that. Your reputation would have been in tatters the second the news of your condition became apparent," her eyes flickering to Bulma's stomach, leaving no doubt about what she meant in 'condition,' before they caught her own, "And you convinced Kakarrot to help you into tricking Vegeta into marrying you."

There was so much misinformation in that sentence Bulma did not even know where to begin, though she wondered how the dowager knew about her pregnancy. Maybe Basil should recruit the dowager to His Majesty's secret service--though Bulma was not entirely sure that the dowager would not flip to whatever side offered her the most, seeing as the only allegiances she seemed to have were to herself. Still, she did seem to know every damn secret this house held--which reminded Bulma why she was here, speaking to the vicious old woman right now, forcing her to suppress her temper. Bulma instead gave a light chuckle, shaking her head, "Come now, even you must agree with me that there is no way of tricking or forcing Vegeta into doing anything he would not already want to do."

The silence that greeted Bulma was music to her ears, and she had to hide her triumphant smile behind another sip of her tea, before she finally got down to why she was here. "Now, your Grace, I must admit--"

Bulma was unable to finish her question as instead the dowager burst out, "I knew we should have left Kakarrot rotting in the new world, as I repeatedly told Vegeta in my letters--all of which were ignored." She stopped for a second, before she continued, shaking her head, "Tarble's death--it changed Vegeta, leading him to make more foolish decisions than he did before we had received news of Tarble's misfortune."

Well it appeared that Bulma would not even need to ask any questions, as the dowager was now freely offering information about precisely what Bulma was going to ask about. "Tarble's death? Wasn't that years ago?"

The dowager's eyes came to her own again, her lip curled, "Are you daft? Do you really think Vegeta would have gone to America and offered the viscouncy to an American if he did not have a choice in the matter? If his brother had not been foolish enough to follow in Vegeta's footsteps--and find himself dead because of it? I had told them both, warned both of them--Vegeta came back from the war for the better, ready to take up the reins as head of this family...but Tarble...."

There was a silence, and Bulma decided she needed to push the dowager in the direction she wanted this questioning to go. "So how long did you know of Goku?"

The dowager waved her hand, unreservedly giving up information, though the anger in her voice was enough to let Bulma know that this was coming from a place of hatred and not one of the older woman trying to be helpful. Apparently the dowager was pissed, and she wanted everyone to know just why she was pissed. Well, perhaps not everyone--but Bulma was certainly benefiting from this display. "Years. I had heard rumors that someone had survived the ship crash, of a baby being found by an American and being raised...but considering the circumstances in which Bardock and his family left...."

Bulma's interest was piqued in just what had driven Bardock to leave in the first place, but she stayed focused, instead digging deeper, "So Vegeta has known about Go...Kakarrot almost his whole life?"

The dowager pursed her lips, "Don't be stupid. It was only about seven or eight years ago...I'm not sure how, though when he wrote me to ask me if there was a chance the son of Bardock had survived, I was not particularly surprised. But I thought he let the matter drop, as I did not hear about it again...until Tarble's death on the warfront in Russia last year."

Bulma felt a sharp rise of alarm drive through her as she realized something, "Wait--so you're telling me that Tarble served in the army?"

The dowager sneered, shaking her head at Bulma's stupidity. "The army? Does this family seem like one who would serve in the lowest branch of the military? No, he truly followed in his brothers footsteps, right into the Navy, right into Russia, where I forbid him to go." The dowager sighed, shaking her head; "Tarble was always a better grandson than Vegeta ever was, submitting himself to both my wishes, as well as that of the wishes of his father. Vegeta was ever willful, needing to prove himself--which is why he had run off to the Navy, not that we knew any of this until he returned, a full Commodore...or Rear-Admiral," She frustratedly waved her hand again, "It did not matter. What did matter was that my son was sick, and it was Vegeta's time to become a man. I must say, he surprised even me with how fluidly he fit into the role of a Duke, not that I got to see much of it, with him shipping me as far away as he dared." The dowager turned away, her eyes looking into a past Bulma knew nothing of as she continued, "I do now know what he said or did with Tarble during this time, but the next thing I heard was that when Tarble was of age, he too had joined the Navy. But Tarble had never been strong like his older brother--I knew it was going to happen, I knew there was no way of Tarble returning from the warfront--and I was right."

Bulma would have felt more sorry for the dowager if she had heard an ounce of remorse, or loss, for losing Tarble, perhaps thinking that she had affection for the younger grandson--if not for the tone she spoke about him in. It was obvious that the dowager had wanted Tarble to replace Vegeta only because of his malleability--in the easy way she could perhaps control Tarble in ways that she could not control Vegeta. She held no sense of loss for the human being, just sadness for losing another way of gaining power. Still Bulma softly said, "So that is why Vegeta finally sought Goku out...he needed someone to take up the viscouncy."

The dowager's eyes were back on Bulma, glittering and dark, "He had needed someone. Until he had sired a child on you. A child, for all intents and purposes, and not for any reason I can imagine--he decided to legitimize through marriage."

Bulma felt her own upper lip curl at this, though she forced herself to take another sip of tea before she calmly said, "Shame you instilled such a sense of honor in him then, isn't it? To right the wrongs he had made."

The dowager's nostrils flared, reminding Bulma why the older woman had always reminded her of an ape, though she was distracted from these thoughts when the dowager's voice pierced her thoughts, "Do not look to me for why he married you. He was the one who went against our plan, the one who decided to do the honorable thing with an American of all people."

Bulma stood, ready to leave, though she froze as she caught onto something the dowager said. She tried to force herself to leave, to not be sucked into this old bitches games, but found herself instead asking, "Plan? What plan?"

Bulma could have hit herself for falling into the dowager's ploy, especially as the older woman's beady black eyes glittered in satisfaction, a small smile on her face that put ice in Bulma's stomach as she said, "Oh Vegeta's honor hasn't prompted him into telling you exactly why you have a bastard in your stomach? You poor bitch...what, do you think he had feelings for you?"

Bulma said nothing, her mouth drawn closed, her every muscle still as the dowager let out a humorless laugh, "It was all part of a plan we had cooked up. You were in the way of Kakarrot making a suitable match, and so we devised a way to be rid of you--ruin your reputation, and force you to be shipped back to the states." The dowager's smile faded as she simply said, "I never expected him, of all people, to grow a conscious and marry you." The dowager looked Bulma square in the eyes as she said, "You better pray you have a son...because if you have a daughter, I will do everything in my power to ensure that Vegeta leaves you and annuls the marriage, leaving you and your child on the streets."

Bulma felt an odd sense of disappointment as she realized the truth behind the dowager's words, not the idle threat at the end, but in Vegeta's behavior with her (why else would he have pursued her, and impregnated her when it seemed to her that she represented all that he hated?), but she let none of this show. She instead affected a stiff upper lip, only giving a slight bow as she made her exit, thinking of no polite words with which to end her audience with the dowager.

Truth was, Bulma knew if she stayed in there a moment longer, she was liable to snap the dowagers neck, propriety be damned.

~~&~~

Vegeta found himself completely entranced by Bulma as he sat across from her at the dinner party he had chosen for them to come to. Entranced because...well, he forgot how well she carried herself in public, and, truth be told, he had not seen much of her these past three days, and dammit, he had missed her and all that she had come to represent to him.

Ever since the morning when she had stormed into his office, Vegeta had not seen Bulma. Not even a hint or whisper of her, no lingering lilac scent, no trail of blue hairs, nothing. Though that could be because he had been at the war offices more often than not, working endlessly with Basil to try and circumvent the plot that the Russians were soon to be hatching. All signs were pointing to an attack, and soon--and for the life of them, the offices could not exactly figure out who, what, where, when, or, perhaps most importantly, how.

The King was facing his own dissension among the ranks though, the advisors he had amongst him turning to in fighting that was throwing further confusion around the already thickening plot of what was going on. The Crown was crumbling, the most trusted of advisors turning on each other (and, Vegeta feared, the crown itself)--and all of this had to be hidden from the public. If they knew that their King could not trust those closest to him, what faith would they have in the monarchy? Not only that, but the King refused to leave his seat at Windsor, saying his friends and country needed him more than he needed himself, whatever in the hell that meant. Vegeta wished he could respect the decision the King was making, but how could he when it was putting his very life in danger?

Not only that, but Zhelonie was still taunting them with his presence. He was still working--but who the hell was he? Every time Vegeta was ready to dismiss him as nothing more than a myth or a legend, there would be another report, or more proof that he existed. Vegeta, when not in the war offices, strategizing with Basil about just what the plan of attack could be, was pounding the pavement with Nappa, the two of them questioning every and any informant they had ever had. But this man was a freaking ghost, or worse, a legend--everyone had heard of him and seemed to respect him, but none had a single clue just who in the hell he was.

Vegeta was beyond ready to start pulling his hair out.

Not that he was thinking about any of this, really, as he stared at Bulma, watching her charm her way through their seventeen-course dinner. He had picked this party because it had the smallest number of guests (only around a hundred) of any of the social events coming up in these next few days, and only the cr�me de la cr�me of society was there. Exactly the people Vegeta needed to have see him and his wife together, so that when he was gone, there could be no doubting these peoples words that Vegeta's new wife was a legitimate one, one to be respected, especially if she bore him a son.

He had been expecting a night of boring conversation, and Bulma to be as far away from him as possible, ignoring him much as she had been doing since they had returned to England--but no. It had been the opposite. She had been at his side, and acting just like a doting wife should. Not that there had been any sign of this before they had come into the public eye. In the carriage she had silently sat across from him, her eyes glued to the outside world, her chin resting on her fist, her elbow on the side of the carriage--her profile to Vegeta, refusing to meet his eyes, to speak to him, to answer his questions, or anything.

Not that Vegeta had been able to look away from her, his eyes glued to her. She wore a sapphire blue gown, one that made the paleness of her skin, the blueness of her eye and hair stand out--and most importantly, covered the small swell of their unborn child. Her hair was up, a few wisps trailing down her neck, much like he wanted to be doing with his lips, and there was a sense of general sadness about her that somehow made her look more delicate and beautiful all at the same time. Not that Vegeta was stupid enough to think that the delicateness of her beauty translated to anything but the strong woman he had come to marry, to produce a family with. Though he wished he could erase the sadness she was feeling, especially as he knew most of it was his fault.

It had been four days since they had last been intimate, since the last time he had seen that creamy white flesh covered by her gown, and he found himself hungering for her like a man who had been starved for weeks--no, months. Vegeta had thought that once he had made love to her, once he had had her, he would find himself growing bored of her, find himself no longer caring if they had sex or no. But no, it was the opposite. He had an addiction to all things Bulma--not just having sex with her, but also seeing her smile, making her laugh, hearing her voice, her dreams, her hopes--and he had cruelly been denied her for these past few days. Vegeta wished he was the sort of man who could know just what to say to charm her back to him...but Vegeta was never the sort to lie to a woman, and he knew anything but the truth with Bulma would be sure to get him slapped in the face. Though if that meant she would put her hands on him again....

Still, he had been surprised that the second they had arrived at the party that she had latched onto him, acting much like a newlywed wife should. Bulma did not expect Vegeta to act with her, knowing that to have him act overly affectionate would make the Ton suspicious of what the hell the two were up to--but she used his natural quietness and aloofness to her advantage. She spoke to others when Vegeta and her were approached, but she did not approach anyone else, whispering in Vegeta's ear when no one else was around. Vegeta wished that she was saying more into his ear than Newton's three laws, or the naming all of Jupiter's moons, or reciting the Fibonacci sequence--but no one else in the crowd knew that. They only watched the two of them, the men with envy in their eyes, the women with...well, envy and respect in their eyes.

It was interesting to be here, observing other's as they observed them. When Bulma had first made her debut she had been fawned over by the men, the women staring at her with mistrust and (well placed) jealousy. Now it seemed as the roles were reversed. The men were staring at her with mistrust, and jealousy, wondering how her flirtations with all of them had ended her with the least affectionate man in the Ton, while the woman fawned over her and her ability to capture the most eligible bachelor of the last seven seasons. Well, not all of the women--the proud mama sharks who had no doubt seen Vegeta as some sort of prize for their daughters to win--they were not happy to lose him to an American, and they were not afraid to make their disdain for the stranger amongst them known. As passively aggressively as possible of course.

But Bulma had ignored the digs, the little snide comments--she heard them all, and she graciously let them slide off of her as easily as water did. Vegeta was beyond impressed, if he did say so himself. Not that he let her know this. Though he kept her arm tucked in his all night, wishing that society would not frown on them if he tried to hold her just a little bit closer, a little bit more. She was his wife for Kami sakes--though even he knew that they were already spending more than the requisite number of hours at each other's side in public.

When they had been escorted to dinner Vegeta had found himself (being the highest ranking male in attendance) escorting the hostess of the whole party into dinner. He had been greatly pleased to see that Bulma's seat was not only right next to him, but as near the head of the table as society etiquette allowed. It appeared not every woman was stupid enough to snub the newest Duchess of the Ton, the head hostess seeking Bulma's attentions and favors as Vegeta was sure even the most jealous of mama sharks were sure to do when they realized just how much power the American had in the Ton.

As dinner had commence, Bulma had continued to surprise him as she had efficiently and effortlessly commanded the attention of the table, charming those who would probably prefer to hate her. Vegeta had watched, much as one watches a brilliant play, or a general plan an attack, trying to keep the smirk he would have loved to be wearing off of his face. She was ruthless in her civility, brilliant in her charms, and beautiful when she laughed--Kami, he could watch her all night. Ê

For everyone who would have questioned why Vegeta would marry an untitled American woman, who would whisper behind their hands the real reason for their marriage--Bulma was proving them all wrong. She was proving herself to be as delightful and respectful as any English rose would be, her blood as blue as those born in England...though Vegeta was not stupid enough to think that this would stop the rumors, or that Bulma's time as his wife, or the dowager of Vegetasei (once he was no longer here), would be easy.

But tonight, watching her in public, how she held her own--it was putting him at ease to know that she did not need him to conquer the Ton. Bulma could do it without him, without his protection. And that, to be honest, was a load off of his mind he did not even know he carried....

Vegeta was content to let Bulma play the night out as she wanted--but he did not sit out completely. He had felt his sense of gratitude for Bulma, for making this night so smooth and effortless for him--well, it had to be repaid. And repay it he did. The only time they were apart (even though he knew all their time together was sure to be brought up in the gossip rags the next day) was when the men and women were forced to be separated after dinner. As much as Vegeta would have liked to forgo the usual port and cigars the men shared in the parlor, he could not, especially not with the rising Russian threat so close at hand. He needed to be all eyes and ears, looking for any sign of what just the looming threat could be, or if anyone there had inadvertently heard or seen anything.

Plus, Viridian was in attendance tonight, and though he had been perfectly charming as usual with all of the women--Vegeta had not missed the way his eyes had constantly flitted to Bulma, or the jealousy glinting in his eyes whenever Bulma pushed close to Vegeta to fake whisper something to him. Vegeta wanted to keep an eye on the bastard as it was--Viridian might have been staring at Bulma all night with affection in his eyes, but whenever he looked at Vegeta....

As the appropriate time had drawn for the men to rejoin the women where the after dinner tea was being served, Vegeta had taken his time walking, expecting Viridian to seek him out, to say something to the effect of having lost to the better man (of course Vegeta would not believe a word of it). It was what men did when they were jealous of another man--complimented him, and left veiled threats and potshots to the man. But Viridian did not track him down, instead walking out in one of the first groups of men to leave. Vegeta was content to wait until he was the last man left, knowing Bulma would be back at his side the instant he appeared in the group. He took his time getting back, entering the parlor quietly, observing the room. Bulma was currently not in attendance, but he did not let this worry him as he walked over to the curiosity cabinet in the room, near the back, content for her to reappear.

He was on the other side of the glass encased cabinet, his eyes drawn to that which had been taken (or stolen) from the natives of Papua New Guinea, when he heard a shrill voice he recognized as one of the most unpleasant women in the ton--not counting the one he was related to. She was an older woman, three of her daughter's out, all aging (and not well), the first two almost spinsters, and the third not far behind. Though she still retained a title, she was one of the rare divorcees of the Ton, her husband having left her for a much younger woman. A scandal to be sure--one that had made her bitter and angry--and loud. She was standing in a group of women, her mouth covered by her fan as she spoke, quite loudly, about Bulma and Vegeta.

Not that she said his or her names--but Vegeta was no fool, and the old hag was hardly being that obscure. "...I've had it on good authority from a kitchen maid of mine that speaks to a kitchen maid of theirs that the original pair to flee to Scotland was more...brother and sisterly than the pair who ended up marrying."

Another tittering old bat, "No! How could that be?! I thought with the way the pair of them were acting that it was a love match. I've heard that they loved each other too much to wait."

The original hen chuckled humorlessly, patting her friend on the head as if she were a simpleton, "Please, do you really believe one of his stature would lower himself to marrying an American if he had not gotten her with child? I hear it was not a love match, but one borne out of his honor--especially as she has none!"

Vegeta, unwilling to hear anymore slights against Bulma, especially after how wonderful she had been to him tonight, made his presence known by stepping around the cabinet, all eyes drawn to him, the one to the immediate right of the bitch who was talking face going white as she gaped at him like he was some sort of specter from a gothic novel. "Y...y...your Grace!"

Vegeta resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the woman's histrionics (or flair for dramatics), instead approaching the bitch in the middle. "You do me a great service, Lady Satan, to espouse such honor onto my character."

Lady Satan, the dumb toad that she was, actually preened at that, looking well pleased. While the rest of the women in the group took a step away from her and him, their mouths snapped shut, Lady Satan only spoke louder, sounding rather delighted with herself. "Well, of course I knew that you would never marry a woman such as that otherwise...."

Vegeta held up a hand, "You did not let me finish." Lady Satan looked offended, but she kept her chin up, though Vegeta was glad to see her lose all color in her face as Vegeta continued, "You do me a great honor by thinking me so full of honor--but the truth of the matter is you are wrong. If I had made the disastrous mistake of begetting a child on any of your feather brained daughters--I would hardly feel the need to do my 'honor' bound duty to them, let alone recognize them or any bastard children they produced, even if they were dying in a ditch I happened to be passing. I would not blink twice, nor would I pause, even if the child was the spitting image of me."

There was a general gasps of disapproval (and delight, the ton did love a good gossip), but Vegeta was not done, still feeling the sting of annoyance at these women, the need to defend his woman. Especially as she had been more than he could ask for, or truly deserved, tonight. "My lady wife on the other hand, would probably offer them every kindness, as she had proven herself to be the most honor bound lady I have ever had the privilege of meeting, her beauty paling in comparison to her brains or the strength she possesses." Vegeta took a step away, giving a slight bow to the cow of a woman he had been speaking to, "You need to be careful what you say and where. You might find out that I seem to hear and see everything--and if I ever hear you even think of besmirching my wife's name again...well, you might learn where I earned my nickname, the Dark Duke."
Another gasp, as Vegeta knew the rumors of where his nickname had come from ranged from him murdering women, to eating babies (or other horrible oddities he was sure), turning as he spoke, "If you'll excuse me. I need to find my lovely wife," before he turned, feeling rather proud of himself for not throttling the women as he made his way as far away from them as possible.

~~&~~

Bulma stood on the other side of a large potted plant, having returned from the retirement room where she had sorely needed a few moments to herself, a large, unbidden smile on her face. After dinner, when the men and women had been forced to separate, Bulma had known that the full on nastiness of women and their gossip would come out--though she had been surprised to find as many women wanting to befriend her as those who wanted to defame her, and she had found a safe group to talk to as she awaited her husband.

But Bulma was growing tired, tired of the acting she was doing, of the anger she carried around--of the general sense of unease she could not escape. While she could not escape her thoughts, she could escape from the tittering women around her for just a few moments, allowing her to drop the mask she often wore in public. She took just enough time to get a hold of herself and her emotions, before she had taken a deep breath, feeling much like she was swimming in shark infested waters.

When she had walked back into the tea parlors, she had been stopped behind the plant, the Lady Satan's words breaking through her well-crafted mask for society as if they were arrows piercing her armor. Her loud words hurt, not because there was any untruth in them, but because of the sheer delight the woman and her cohorts seemed to have in saying them. Bulma suddenly felt very tired, tired of the games, tired of hearing gossip and cruelness from people she did not know (nor did she deserve), and she had been ready to step out from her unintentional hiding spot to tell them off, when...when...

Well, when her knight in shining armor had ridden in, saving her.

Okay, maybe it was not that dramatic, or romantic--but Vegeta's words, his defense of her honor, of why he had chosen her--Bulma was more than a little choked up. She was not afraid to admit that the dowager's words earlier had gotten to her--but now, maybe...maybe Vegeta did have some sort of feelings for her other than lust. She could not have asked for a more glowing review, especially not from a man who usually handed out no reviews at all. For him to speak up for her, to defend her--and to slam that old cow (though she was a pussycat compared to the dowager...but the dowager was a dragon in human skin)--well, that meant more to Bulma than she could put into words. She had watched her husband retreat, and made a vow to thank him, tonight, in private. Ê

As Bulma finally slipped from behind the potted plant, tears wiped from eyes, silly grin hidden, elated feelings held in her heart, she planned a route that would have her run into her husband in a rather circuitous route, when she found herself stopped by the last person she expected.

"Your Grace."

Bulma turned to find a bowing Viridian, her eyes going wide as she curtseyed to the handsome, charming man. "Viscount! I had not expected to see you here."

Viridian smiled, catching her hand to press a kiss to it, "Of course I am here. Once I heard you would be here, I had to see for myself that you were married to that...well, man, I suppose."

Bulma frowned at him, "Vegetasei? My husband you mean?"

Viridian affected a look of consternation, his hand going over his heart, "Oh to hear those words from your lips, and to not have them directed at me...they wound me more than you know."

Bulma resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though she did smile politely as Viridian winked at her. He was not done, continuing on, "I forced myself out in public to see for myself that the fair Miss Briefs was indeed married to that fool of a man, forcing me to find suite with another maiden who would be nowhere near as fair, nor as beautiful."

Bulma only gave him a polite smile, wondering how she had ever thought the man charming, wishing she could escape from him. She looked past his shoulder, seeing that Vegeta had caught her eye with his own, and the current frown gracing his face on seeing whom she was talking to. Bulma tried to step away politely, giving a slight curtsy, "If you excuse me then, Viridian, I do believe my husband is looking for me."

Viridian stepped into her path, grabbing her recently dropped hand, pressing another kiss to it, as he bowed low, saying softly, "Please, call me by my first name. Now that you are married, I believe it is most proper."

Bulma smiled politely at him, wishing to get out of his way, especially with the way Vegeta's eyes were boring into the pair of them as he stormed up to them, and the hand Viridian had yet to release. "Of course, it would be my honor...." She hoped her silence would prompt him, though she knew Viridian was prone to being more verbose than anything.

Thankfully, Viridian picked up the hint and supplied his name with a ready smile, as he finally relinquished her hand, telling her his name as he walked away from her:

"Zarbon. Please call me Zarbon."

~~&~~

A/N: Okay, at this point, I know approximately zero of you did not see that coming (Zarbon is Viridian??)--but I liked pretending it was going to be a surprise. Humor me and tell me how flabbergasted you were by that, okay??

Love to all, and in honor of it being this stories TWO-YEAR ANNIVERSARY (that must always be written in caps, it is law)--next week, another chapter. Why? Because I love you all. Also, is it just me, or does next week's chapter smell sorta...lemon scented?