Royally Duched (Duched #2)

by Xavier Neal

  I knot my fingers together tighter to keep my mouth closed.

  Hm? Oh, you want to hear what I have to say? Well you’re the only one. Every time I open my mouth to have an opinion or speak about a topic, I am immediately brushed off, or spoken over to the point I learned early on at this engagement brunch charade that it would make more sense to remain silent. Apparently, just having Edith here is a huge deal and I should feel privileged, at least that’s what Mildred keeps insisting. Edith doesn’t leave her ‘lair’ for just ‘anyone’. She has an entire country that depends on her guidance and promise to up hold righteous traditions. See the stab my direction there? My guess is she wanted to get a better view of the woman she’s gossiping poorly about. That’s what I’m convinced all seven women except Soph are here to do. And since you’re listening, purple and green? What is Barney the Dinosaur trending now?

  “Sweaters will be good for you darling.” Edith gives me a stern look. “It’ll do wonders to keep your shape better hidden and your…assets put away until your husband is ready to enjoy them in private.”

  My lips press tightly together to refrain from biting back.

  She just called me fat and trampy in the same statement. Look, I know I’m not the treadmill enthusiast, but I can at least do more than push the buttons before I get winded.

  “You really ought to consider toning down your style now that you’re going to be a duchess,” Samantha Steinberg, one of the women closer to Soph and I in age, comments. “Let Kellan make all the headlines. You should really stop giving the media a field day with your…promiscuous attire.”

  I’d be lying if said I hadn’t glanced at what people were saying about me every once in a while. I’ve been curious. I remembered the hateful things they said when Kellan and I first went out together, so imagined they would be worse now that we’re engaged. To be truthful, it’s quite a bit less. There’s been a shift from heavy hatred to admiring my confidence to stand out in a crowd. To continuously stand by his side despite the rumors surrounding the racial tensions. Bloggers have a field day every time someone catches me doing something kind, like visiting the children’s hospital or buying board games for MINOH in Fayweather out of my own pocket. The comments from the people in this country and the ones from back home are overwhelmingly kind. But then I wear a sheer top or my old chucks in public and I become a raging disgrace on fashion sites. I swear, the fickle opinion of me is so unsteady it’s unbelievable. I’ve literally been called everything from a beautiful addition to the Kenningston family, to a black stain history will never forget. The hurtful comments don’t bother me as much as Kellan fears they do. My parents taught me from a very early age that no matter what happens in life, it’s about how you feel about yourself. Aside from drowning in wedding plans, social engagements such as this one, and competing with my fiancé’s never ending ringing cell phone, I feel pretty good about myself. Contrary to what these women believe, I much prefer wearing my jeans and t-shirts than the cocktail dresses I keep getting sewn into. The playful necklines and sexy cuts are really just my way of punishing Kellan for showcasing me around. I love the pain in his eyes every time he gets a good glimpse of something that he can look at but not touch. Plus, it keeps me laughing in my head through the strenuous conversations to see him attempt to adjust himself without drawing attention. Alright, so maybe I’m a little naughty, but not the way she’s implying.

  “That may be difficult for her since that’s the role she’s set to play,” Margaret Moorehouse, a middle-aged woman who is her husband’s second wife, defends.

  Finally, I speak up with a look of bafflement buried on my face. “Excuse me? My role?”

  “Oh, don’t take it to heart,” she waves off, picking up her tea cup again. “We all have one. For instance, Edith has always been seen as a matriarch even before they had six children and Vivian has always been viewed as too kind hearted.”

  Odd considering the fact she murdered eight minxes to make her coat.

  A set of footsteps appears behind us around the time she finishes, “You are the wild one while Soph is the girl next door, which is perfect for the next queen of Doctenn. Hannah was viewed quite similarly and would absolutely adore Soph. It’s impossible not fall in love with her.”

  I try not to let the insecurity she’s trying to create take hold.

  It isn’t working. Do you think Kellan’s mother would hate me? Am I too loud? Too abrasive? Is my attire too scandalous? I’m wearing a light pink, long sleeve maxi dress with a slit up to my lower thigh. Sure, it has a slight v-neck, but anything higher and I look like I have no neck!

  “Excuse me Mrs. Sophia and Miss Brie, your ride has arrived.”

  “Perfect timing,” Soph mutters under her breath as she rises to her feet.

  My eyes zoom in on her long sleeve, chiffon maxi style dress. It’s a bold red color that she’s paired with chunky gold bracelets and wedges. The sleeves are three quarter length, and there’s an unnecessary belt with a bow in the front.

  Sure, she looks stunning even in something that shouldn’t be seen that way. The woman could’ve easily been an underwear model right alongside Kellan and Kristopher. Hm…I could hand model on marker packages.

  “Brie,” she urges me with wide eyes. “Thank the ladies for having us for tea and we shall be on our way.”

  “Right.” I brush away the thoughts I had slipped into. Once I’m on my feet, I plaster on a fake, polite smile, and begin to shake their hands. “Thank you so much for celebrating my engagement with me. It has been an absolute delight having you all here.”

  And Kellan says I can’t lie…

  After goodbyes are exchanged, Soph and I make our way out of the posh parlor that reminds me of my grandmother’s old sewing room minus the sewing part and straight down the hall for the exit.

  The moment we are out in the open underneath the warm fall sun Soph lets out a giant sigh. “Bloody hell, I hate those women.”

  I helplessly smirk.

  Glad I’m not alone…

  “They do an impeccable job of devaluing any opinion I have about real world topics until I’m nothing more than a fashion mannequin with moving appendages.”

  The two of us plop down in the back of the golf cart and I exhale sharply. “It was like having tea with the first wives club of supervillains. Pretty sure DC sent me a voicemail demanding they come back or there would be potential for suing over copyright infringements.”

  She giggles, this time tossing her head back in laughter. “Oh gosh, they even look it! Edith could easy be married to Ra’s al Ghul and with that botched dye job Mildred could be married to Two Face. Oh! Samantha would pair nicely with Lex Luther!”

  I give her an impressed smile. “Your comic book knowledge surprises me.”

  “Oh, I’ve got two younger brothers. I’m more than familiar with the DC crew.” After another exchange of giggles, she questions, “What about you? Your sister a fan?”

  “God no.” My face cringes. “She was always more of a ballerinas and ball gowns type of girl. I typically had guy friends and they were all about superheroes.”

  The idea of how better suited my sister would be for these types of social settings begins to settle on my shoulders.

  Her and Kellan would be absolutely wrong for each other and the thought alone makes me sick to my stomach, but she would definitely be better at prissy tea parties than me. I had years of traumatic pretend ones with our dolls that could be entered as evidence of that. She’d also have no problem talking about fashion trends or diet fads.

  Sophia’s hand lands on my thigh just at the same time the vehicle comes to a halt outside the doors to the main palace. “Don’t let those women bother you. They are from a completely different era, one in which their husbands worked hard on their businesses instead of their marriages. Played harder with each other than their wives. Hell, most of them had mistresses then and still have them now.” She pauses to add, “Just a side note. I’d chop off parts of Kristopher an
d flee to a country without extradition if I caught wind he was having an affair.”

  I lightly snicker.

  “My point is we aren’t anything like them. We have our own lives, our own passions, our own projects, which we truly love and give our energy to. Most of those women lost who they truly were the moment they had a ring placed on their bony fingers because that’s what was expected of them. For them this is all life has to offer anymore. Poor gossip and even poorer judgment. We are not like that. Our men are not like theirs and I highly doubt they ever will be. You’ve know the Kenningston men as well as I do. When they’re in love it’s hard for them to do anything else other than be in love. They completely forget the rest of the world exists. Most importantly, they’re willing to do whatever it takes to do what is right for us and our future children, even if it’s not the popular opinion.” She gives my leg one final pat. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving.”

  The two of us stroll towards the open door together.

  On the other side of the threshold, we cross paths with Kristopher who is cheerfully rounding the corner. At the first glance of his wife he freezes his body in place, mouth awkwardly frozen.

  Not a cute look.

  “What are you eating?” She suspiciously asks.

  He finishes chewing quickly and tries to smile innocently. “Nothing.”

  “Kris…”

  Reluctantly, he offers the chocolate chip cookie in his possession, and hangs his head, “They just came out of the oven.”

  Soph snatches the cookie but places a warm kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

  Kristopher instantly melts and the truth of her earlier speech reverberates loudly.

  When a Kenningston man is in love…he puts her first.

  After she has a bite, she breaks off a piece and offers it to me, “Annaliese is the world’s most renowned baker. I mean, she’s won actual awards for her cooking, but her favorite thing to make are these bloody cookies.” I take the piece at the same time she adds, “She just started baking here when I married Kris and I swear I put on ten pounds from her desserts alone.”

  Before I have a bite, I ask, “How come I haven’t had her desserts before now?”

  The delicious treat is so divine as it effortlessly melts in my mouth I almost miss the answer to my question.

  “When she started, she had it in her contract that for about ten weeks out of the year, every year, at the same time unless there is a royal wedding, she is given off to compete in world class baking competitions and visit her family,” Kristopher explains.

  “And her beef cakes,” Soph slips out between giggles.

  “Soph!”

  “Oh, what! You lot can travel the world letting your cock slip into what fits the lowest mold, but she can’t get her lips frosted occasionally?”

  The imagery has me laughing and shoving the remainder of the cookie bite into my mouth.

  They’re worried about what I look like, but shouldn’t they be more concerned with what she sounds like? No. She’s actually really well put together in front of the camera. It’s like night and day.

  “I’m going to go change then meet you two for lunch,” I announce, heading for the stairs. “Is Kellan here or did your father make it back in time to have that meeting with him in town?”

  Kris shakes his head as his arms wrap around Sophia. “Father won’t be in until this afternoon. Breakfast ran a little late with the LaStouls. However, it was a success from my understanding.”

  I shoot him a smile and return to my journey up the stairs. When I finally reach our room, I’m slightly surprised to see Kellan at the desk.

  At the sound of the door shutting, he spins his chair around and pins me a loving smirk. “There’s my lovely fiancé. How was tea?”

  “You mean Breakfast at Bitchy’s? Audrey Hepburn would’ve been appalled.”

  He smiles in a way that lets me know something he isn’t saying.

  “You have no idea what movie I’m referencing, do you?”

  “That’s the film where she’s got on that black dress with those pearls and sunglasses, correct?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “Of course that’s what you would remember about the movie.”

  “I appreciate iconic fashion.”

  “You are iconic fashion,” my childish mock receives a smirk.

  Ugh. It wasn’t intended to be an actual compliment.

  “Seriously,” he begins again standing up. “How was tea?”

  “I hate tea.”

  “I know.”

  “And the entire thing was-”

  The ringing of his cell interrupts my sentence. Kellan swiftly lifts a finger for me to pause. He answers the call and insists it’s a good time to talk.

  Hm? Yeah, it is becoming more frequent and by all means frustrating. After he received the additional funding from the DuPonts, who were absolutely the sweetest, some of their friends became donors, and he has been searching for volunteer doctors and nurses at the locations that don’t offer medical care. Most of the extra funding will go towards better health services for the children while a small fraction is being set aside to implement more art activities into the programs that are here in Doctenn, possibly one in the states. I did my small part to help the situation by creating a simple supply list they can buy in bulk and activities for the next couple of months. Believe it or not teaching is something I’ve actually begun to adore. I want to discuss with Kellan the possibility of maybe letting me create a more fundamental art curriculum for his program in the future, but he hasn’t exactly stopped long enough to hear me out. He actually hasn’t stopped long enough to do anything outside of his career and royal responsibilities.

  He ends the call and questions, “You were saying?”

  “It was-”

  The phone goes off again. Quickly he says, “It’s Ava. I have to answer.”

  He takes the call from his secretary and I roll my eyes as I begin to remove my earrings. I patiently wait, eyes planted on him. To no surprise, he drops back down into the chair, turns around and begins typing something on his lap top. Realizing their conversation has now passed the point of brief, I stroll over to our dresser to check my own phone during my wait.

  I click the missed text from Jovi first. The picture of her and Merrick at a Flowmait exhibit from last night warms my heart at the same time it crushes it.

  God, I haven’t been to anything like that in forever. Between the constant wedding plans and Kellan’s numerous never ending social events, I haven’t been given the chance. I miss seeing paintings and sculptures. I miss gagging at the ridiculous price of some pieces. I miss Merrick and Jo’s weird Van Gogh flirting. Hell, I just miss my friends. She’s been the best she can be from video chats and texts, but it’s definitely not the same.

  My attention moves onto the missed call from my mom, followed by the obnoxious clump of ‘urgent’ wedding emails from our planner.

  She’s insane. And unfortunately for me because we want a wedding on New Year’s Eve there are a shit ton of decisions that have to be made fast and now. Including shopping for a wedding dress. I really don’t want to do that without my mom and Jo. Nor do I want to agree to wedding invitations without Kellan’s help…

  His conversation ends, but he continues typing as if he’s completely forgotten I’m in the room. With a heavy sigh, I decide to move past the useless tea discussion, and straight for the other thorn currently in my side. “Kellan, we have to pick out wedding invitations.”

  He doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder. “Whatever you decide is fine.”

  My body leans against the dresser and I fold my arms forcefully across my chest. “We also need to decide on the menu-”

  “Whatever you think is best.”

  “The cake…”

  “As long as you like it.”

  “The music.”

  “Whatever-”

  “Kellan!” I shout, snapping him out of the work fog he had hurled
himself into. This time when he turns around in the chair, I bite, “Am I marrying myself?”

  He leans back in his seat with a playful smirk. “I might be a tad jealous if you did.”

  The enraged look on my face doesn’t disappear.

  His body shifts forward and he sincerely asks, “What’s the matter, love?”

  “I-”

  The ringing of his cell phone causes me to scream through gritted teeth.

  Kellan lifts a finger to me again and answers.

  “Unfucking believable,” I mutter under my breath, exasperation expanding through my entire system with each passing second.

  All of a sudden a realization rocks me to my core.

  Holy shit, I’m the tea ladies…