The Reluctant Duchess Ch. 02

When he caught up with her, Sophie was pacing back and forth. "That hypocrite. Being so nice to you, and saying that she thinks that I'd be a great leader. My god..."

"What's wrong with that?" Mark asked.

"Mark, my mother has never said a single nice thing about me. She has criticized me my entire life. When my brothers were alive," she took a breath before continuing, "When my brothers were alive, she regularly said to me, 'Sophie, I'm glad you will never rule Klippenberg. You would be a disaster, not like your brother.' And now, all of a sudden, I'm a worthy successor to my father? To Karl-Wilhelm, who was a genius?"

"Maybe—" Mark started.

"No, don't 'maybe' me. She hasn't changed her mind. She's either trying to convince herself that I can actually do this, despite my constant complaining and lack of training, or she is trying to manipulate me into embracing this role that I have never, ever, wanted."

Mark didn't know what to say. He had assumed that Sophie was at least resigned to her new role if she hadn't accepted it completely. But he wanted to be there to comfort her. Stepping forward, he opened his arms, hoping that she would come to him.

"No, Mark. I'm not looking for someone to comfort me now. I'm angry, not sad."

Awkwardly, he dropped his arms to his side. "Sorry, I just thought..."

"Mark, don't take it personally. I'm going through a lot of shit right now, and I'm all over the place. You're a really good guy, and great in bed, seriously, but I'm not looking for a boyfriend, or whatever right now. OK?"

The tall, blonde man realized that it was for the best, despite his attraction to Sophie. Sure, she was an incredible woman, unlike any he had ever known, but she was also petulant, a little immature, and could be difficult. He was certainly happy to take advantage of her hospitality—how often do you get to hang out with a Grand Duchess in a palace?—and of course, the sex was great, but he would try to make sure he wouldn't get too attached.

He noticed Sophie staring at him. "Trying to process this all, huh?"

Mark nodded. "It's a lot."

"Imagine how it is for me."

Mark nodded again.

Sophie looked at her phone and made a face. "Look, I have to do some work. I have to meet with the Minister of Communication about some Internet thing. You must be exhausted. Why don't you go get some rest, and I'll make sure you are awake for dinner. I'm going to arrange for an informal meal by the pool for us, and some of my friends. It should be less intense than lunch."

*

Sophie actually enjoyed herself at the dinner. Johanna had brought a few of her friends, and along with Mark, they sat by the pool, ate well and drank copiously. Although the other guests tried to remember to speak English so that he could understand, as the night went on, and the booze flowed, they forgot more and more, lapsing back into their local German dialect.

Mark found himself alone, with his shoes off, pants rolled up, with his legs in the cool waters of the pool, looking at the others enjoying himself. He particularly noticed Zoe, a beautiful dark-haired friend of Johanna's who was about as different from Sophie as possible. Where Sophie was average height, blonde and athletically built, Zoe was short, dark and curvy. And while he had only spoken to her briefly, she seemed friendly and easy going, despite the fact that her English was spotty.

He watched her chatting with the others, and noticed that she didn't seem attached to anyone. And after his chat with Sophie earlier, it didn't seem like he was obliged to be faithful to her, although he would be, if she asked. Mark sensed someone approaching, and as he looked up, Sophie collapsed next to him, her legs splashing into the pool. Luckily, she had already abandoned her shoes, and was wearing a short skirt. She leaned her head against his shoulder, holding a bottle of liquor in her hand.

"Hey. Sorry that everyone started speaking German. Their English gets worse the more they drink, I guess."

"That's fine. I don't mind. I'm the outsider here."

"That's the way I feel. Not one or the other, if you know what I mean."

"So, how was your meeting with the Communications guy?"

She took a drink from the bottle. "I don't fucking know. They were trying to explain to me something about 5g or 6g or something, and it made no sense. I just told them to do what they think is right."

"That approach might make you the most popular Grand Duchess ever." He smiled, to make it clear that he was joking.

Sophie took another drink. "Maybe, but in the back of my mind, I know that isn't ruling. That's just watching. And sometimes that bothers me."

Mark had no response, because the situation was way outside his experience. He turned back to look at the partying crowd.

"Zoe, huh? She's hot," Sophie slurred, taking another drink from the bottle and offering it to Mark. "She used to hang out with Jo and me before I went away to school." Mark shrugged and took a swig, feeling the burn, followed by the pleasant warm feeling of good booze. "It's OK, I saw you staring."

"Was I?"

"Yes. She's a nice girl. I mean, not that nice, if you know what I mean?"

"If you say so. I don't know her, but she seemed nice when we talked."

"Save her for another day, Mark. I need you to take me back to my room and fuck me, OK?"

"Now?"

"Now."

"What about them?" Mark asked, pointing at her friends.

"Oh, they won't mind. I've been away so long, we barely know each other anymore, and anyway, when I leave, they won't feel like they have to behave like their Grand Duchess is watching them. Johanna will make sure that they are out of here at an appropriate time."

"Johanna? Why? She's your friend, right?"

"Yes. She and I sort of grew up together—her mother was my nanny. But now she's also my 'attendant.' Fuck, I hate that word, it sounds so fucking medieval. She's really my assistant. That's much better. 'Assistant.' And she has a good head on her shoulders. I trust her."

"It's good to have someone to trust."

Sophie nodded and took another drink, before throwing the empty bottle into the pool. "C'mon," she said, pulling on Mark's hand. "Let's go."

*

The next day, while Mark amused himself wandering through the picturesque capital, Sophie met again with the coronation committee to go through, yet again, all of the steps that were part of the ceremony. After a short break, the group reconvened to discuss, again, the details of both parties. During the discussion of the after party, Sophie was surprised to see an extra table that she hadn't seen before. Pulling up the guest list, she noticed a group of new German names. She asked Clara Eltsmann, the Director of Protocol, who was coordinating the events, who they were.

"Your Highness, Duchess Charlotte Marie asked for them to be added to the list. They are descendants of German nobility."

Sophie felt her anger begin to build as she finally realized the reason that her mother was so supportive of the "young people's" party. Turning to her mother, she snarled, "Who said these people could be invited? This was supposed to be my party, for my friends, not an event for you to try to marry me off to some phony count."

Charlotte Marie paused before answering. "Sophie, I should have asked first. But I knew that you would have this reaction. I think the Americans say, 'sometimes it is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.' And I know that you would not be so rude as to withdraw an invitation already sent and accepted."

"So, who are these people?"

"All of them are from noble families, both the men and women, and all are about your age. Most of them, actually, are distant cousins of yours, but that should not be a surprise. I thought that you might want to meet them, because under the current circumstances, you may end up crossing paths more often."

"So, no plans to try to marry me off to one of them?"

"Well, if that were to happen, I would not complain. You do know, Sophie, that by law, you are required to marry someone of noble blood."

Sophie rolled her eyes. "Who's talking about getting married? I'm far from that point. And I'm still not sure how long I'm staying as Grand Duchess."

"Stop that talk, Sophie. Anyway, some day you will need to settle down and stop having casual liaisons.

"But I like my casual liaisons. A lot. And I'm young and not ready to settle down."

Charlotte Marie decided to stop fighting, and returned to a final review of the menu.

Later that afternoon, Sophie was in her room with Johanna.

"Thanks, Jo, for making sure everyone got home yesterday."

"Of course, Sophie."

"Look, there's something I want to discuss with you. I was talking with Mark last night--" Johanna arched an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, before, you know, but anyway, I hate the idea of you being my 'attendant.'"

"But that's my job."

"Technically. But I see you more as my assistant. Would you be interested in moving on from getting my clothing and stuff like that, which I can do myself, and doing things like running my schedule, and generally being there when I need you?"

Johanna thought for a few seconds. "What about Count Ertz? Doesn't he do your scheduling?"

"Ugh. He was my father's friend, and I think he's loyal to Mother more than me. Since it looks like I'm stuck with this for now, I need to start putting my own people who I can trust into the key positions. He can retire. I'm sure we can find someone to do the more menial tasks that you currently do, and have you focus on more important things."

"I'd be honored, Sophie. And proud. But I'm not telling your mother."

"No, that'll be my job. By the way, did I tell you that she secretly invited a bunch of eligible German nobles to my party?"

Johanna shook her head. "I'm not surprised. Your mother is nothing but focused on the continuation of the dynasty."

"My plan is to ignore them completely."

"Sophie, what is there to lose? Maybe one of them is hot? And interested in a test drive?"

Sophie realized that Johanna was right, again. "That might be fun. And even piss off Mother. You're already earning your promotion."

*

The coronation was exactly the beautiful and symbolic ceremony that Charlotte Marie wanted, although it lasted about twice as long as Sophie would have liked. There were prayers, and speeches, and the Cathedral was filled with dignitaries from all across Klippenberg and the world. Clearly, her coronation didn't get the same level of foreign visitors as an English one, but it was still a pretty remarkable turnout for such a small country. All of the hotels and guest houses in the country, and in nearby Germany, Switzerland and France, were booked. In fact, the committee and Johanna had to work hard to find places for Sophie's American friends to stay, locating extra rooms in private houses, and even bringing in some trailers that were parked, discreetly, around the palace grounds.

The night before, Sophie had enjoyed spending some time with people who knew her as a friend and not a Grand Duchess, but she also knew that she couldn't go out carousing with them, which didn't put her in the best mood, as she also slept alone. But the rest allowed her to survive the dull ceremony and be ready for what she hoped was a fun night to come.

What struck her, though, was when she exited the Cathedral into Josef Karl Platz, the crowd of Klippenburghers, who stood out in the heat to watch the ceremony on video screens, burst into a deafening cheer and then began chanting her name. That she had done literally nothing to seek their approval, and in fact had done pretty much everything in her power to distance herself from the country, seemed not to matter anymore. Sophie remembered once, watching a baseball game in New York with a man who was a lover so talented that she was willing to sit through the dull, incomprehensible three hours, waiting to resume their screwing when it was over. She recalled him saying that he was such a devoted fan of the Mets, a team that was usually terrible, that he "rooted for the laundry," which he explained meant that he supported any player who wore the team uniform. She supposed that Klippenburghers supported the crown, and whoever wore it received their unquestioning support. Of course, for generations, the person who wore the crown was worthy of this support. And she feared that she was not,which made her feel sick to her stomach. She stopped, causing the entire procession to make an unscheduled pause, shook her head, bent over slightly and took a deep breath.

"Your Highness," asked the Prime Minister, walking just behind Sophie as they descended into the plaza, "are you unwell?"

"No, Count Markel, I'm just a bit hot, and a bit overwhelmed."

"That is to be expected. Let me know if you need my arm for support."

Sophie looked at the tall, graying man in his 60s and smiled. "I think that I will be fine, Matthias. But thank you for the offer."

Meanwhile, the crowd appeared to take Sophie's pause as an excuse to cheer, chant, and sing the national anthem, as men and women throughout the crowd and even the procession took off any hats or caps that they were wearing as a show of respect.

When the song was over, Sophie raised her hand in the air and waved. The crowd responded with a roar, and she smiled, stepping down a step, allowing the procession to continue. Reaching the plaza, the crowd pressed up against the rope line, waving and yelling encouragement to Sophie. It was both scary and exhilarating, and Sophie wondered if there wasn't more than a whiff of desperation. They needed her to succeed, so they believed that she would succeed. Sophie, however, was far from sure that she would.

Eventually, Sophie found herself in an air-conditioned limousine with the Prime Minister, her mother and Johanna, who was constantly checking her phone to keep up with the details of the constantly evolving schedule. She handed Sophie a cold bottle of water, before doing the same for Charlotte Marie and Count Markel and handing Sophie a clean towel to allow her to blot off some of the sweat. After getting a signal on her phone, Johanna told the driver to be ready to move out toward the palace.

"That was wonderful, Sophie," her mother exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. For the first time, she saw her daughter appear to accept the role that fate had put her in, and she saw the crowd reaction. For the first time since finding out that her husband and sons were dead, she had hope. She knew that Sophie was smart, if lazy and selfish, and hoped that she would be forced into applying herself for fear of letting all of those cheering people down. Not to mention her family.

Sophie, on the other hand, was spent, as the heat, responsibility and loss of adrenalin caused her to feel profoundly tired. She leaned her head back on the seat, uncomfortably, until she removed the jeweled crown that had been placed on her head what seemed like hours ago. The weight being lifted off felt wonderful, even if she still felt the symbolic weight of her responsibilities. Sophie handed the crown to her mother, leaned back and closed her eyes.

"We have two hours before the official ball begins, Soph—" Charlotte Marie shot Johanna a sharp look. "Um, I mean Your Highness." Charlotte Marie nodded, while Sophie subtly shook her head. "Would you like to return to your chambers to rest before it begins?"

Sophie took a swig of the cold, refreshing water, feeling its coolness travel down her throat into her stomach. "Yes, Jo. That would be perfect. Thanks." She was not looking forward to the stuffy, formal event that her mother had planned, so she would need some time to prepare for it.

*

Refreshed and dressed for the ball, Sophie descended the stairs alone, dressed in a couture dress that Sophie could barely stand, but which her mother had insisted on. It was not terribly flattering, but it looked like Charlotte Marie's conception of what a Grand Duchess should wear. She could hear music and conversation coming from the ballroom, as her honored guests milled around, drank and ate hors d'oeurvres, dressed in fancy gowns and tuxedos. Jo stood outside the door, her face tense with the responsibilities newly placed on her young shoulders, staring into her phone. Seeing Sophie approach, she smiled at her friend, and nodded to the two liveried men standing by the large wooden doors to the ballroom. They opened the doors and Sophie, as she had practiced more times than she thought necessary, entered.

As she walked into the room, Sophie saw everyone stop what they were doing, turn towards her, and begin applauding. She stood there, soaking in the applause, before holding up her hand, causing the applause to peter out before stopping. When the room was silent, she stated the words she had memorized, "Friends, family and honored guests, thank you for sharing this important day with me. Please enjoy the ball, and your time in Klippenberg."

There was another smattering of applause, and then the guests returned to whatever they were doing before Sophie arrived. Somehow, Jo had sidled next to Sophie and began to lead her toward her seat of honor at the main table. As they passed through the crowd, she smiled, shook hands, and acknowledged the few familiar faces as well as the handful of people who bowed or curtseyed, before sitting down in the center of a long table.

A waiter appeared shortly with a tray featuring a selection of foods and a glass of Champagne. "Thank you. Can you bring me a strong vodka martini, and keep them coming, please," Sophie asked the waiter.

"Yes, Your Highness, right away." He bowed and scurried off.

Surveying the room, Sophie noticed that she was likely the youngest person there, although there were a few trophy wives that might have been her contemporaries, but looked older due to their heavy makeup, designer dresses, jewels and entitled expressions. Sophie had been instructed to wait at the table for people to approach her, and not to circulate in the crowd "like a common guest," as her mother had put it. For the moment, she felt peaceful, and took a bite of a fancy looking morsel from the food tray, a delicious beef and vegetable concoction. Kurt and his crew were on top of their game, Sophie thought. She took a drink of Champagne, and briefly felt comfortable. Soon, the waiter returned with a martini glass, placed it down in front of her, with dishes of olives and pearl onions. Very thoughtful, she thought, thanking the waiter for his quick work. She added two olives and took a sip, reveling in the burn and waiting desperately for the alcohol to take effect.

Her quiet surveying of the partying crowd was interrupted by the welcome figure of Johanna, who approached her chair. "Sit, Jo, keep me company for a minute." Sophie could see the stress in her eyes. As smart as she was, this was by far the most complicated event that she had ever been in charge of.

"I'm not sure that I should, Soph-" she looked around to see if anyone was listening—"Sophie."

"Your Grand Duchess commands you to please sit your hot ass down," Sophie responded with a smile. She could see the tension briefly lift from Johanna's face as she pulled out the seat next to her, reserved for Charlotte Marie, and sat.

"Thanks, Sophie. I feel like I'm under water."

"You're doing great. Look at how everyone is enjoying themselves."

Johanna nodded. "I think you may be right." Sophie offered her the martini, and she took a swig, shaking her head as she swallowed the strong liquid. "Thanks."

"Remind me--what happens next?"

Johanna scrolled down her phone. "Not much, right away. You sit here, and wait for people to come by and give you their congratulations. Then the band starts playing. You dance with the Prime Minister, and then with whomever else has the balls to cut in on you. Then dinner, more dancing, which you can opt out of, and then we get out of here so we can go to the fun party."