Much Ado about the Shrew (13 page)

           
As
Ben was jostled once again by one too many revelers, he was reminded for what
he was sure was the thousandth time of why he disliked masquerade balls.
"I detest these things," he muttered to Milford and Welles, whom he
had picked up in his
very nice
carriage. They had all opted for capes and dominoes, allowing the women the
challenge of coming up with unique costumes.

           
"Which
explains why you felt the need to bring us," Welles said, frowning as he
was pushed by a group of young men rushing to the refreshment table.

           
"I
brought you because I needed backup," Ben said. "If Surrey shows his
face here, by God, I don't care what will happen, I will probably kill
him."
 
And the fact that my mother tricked me into coming
, he silently
amended.

           
"Now,
now, Kendal. You wouldn't be able to recognize Surrey even if he were
here," Milford reminded him.

           
Ben
shrugged, trying to hide a smile.

           
"Oh,
dear," Welles said quietly. "I'm afraid we are about to be
accosted."

           
Ben
looked over at a group of young girls who were making a beeline towards them.
"What in the..." he started, but Welles shushed him. "Milford!
What did you do?" he asked in horror as the young things rushed towards
them.

           
"So
many things," Milford sighed, shaking his head sadly. "To what are
you referring?"

           
"Why
are there... one, two...
five
young
women trying to shove their way towards us?"

           
"Dear
God, not a one can be over 17," Ben exclaimed.

           
"Hmm..."
Milford said, glancing quickly towards the girls before putting a finger to his
lips in contemplation. "I believe that is your fault, Welles. Not
mine."

           
"How
is it my fault?"

           
"Remember
the night of Lady Stafford's ball?" Milford asked. "And remember the
Putney's ball, before Kendal here decided to show off his moves from Gentleman
Jackson's?"

           
"Not
particularly. Why?"

           
"I
do believe you danced with at least two of the young ladies at the Stafford
affair, and demanded at Putney's that I get them punch. Now I am certain they
are enamored of you."

           
Welles
groaned. "Oh, Lord," he said, looking around them. "Perhaps a
tactical retreat?"

           
Ben
smiled. "Buck up, Welles. Just have Milford talk to them for a minute and
they will be gone before you know it."

           
"So
confident of your own prowess with the women?" Milford asked, one brow
raised in question.

           
Ben
was about to answer when the group finally approached them.
 
They were all dressed in what appeared to be
white sheets over plain white dresses. Ben furrowed his brows, trying to make
sense of them.

           
"Muses,
I'd guess," Milford suggested softly, and Ben looked at him thankfully.

           
"Majors!
Majors!" one of the girls cried. "We've been looking everywhere for
you!"

           
"That
was so heroic what you did at Lady Putney's ball!" another said.

           
"But
why aren't you dressed in your uniform?" one young girl asked.

           
"Well,
for one, it's a masquerade ball. For another, I'm afraid we're merely common
folk now," Milford said with a sigh. "Resigned our commission and
all."

           
"Oh,"
she said sadly. "You did look dashing in your red uniform," the other
girl said.

           
"I
still do," Milford murmured. Welles narrowed his eyes angrily at him.

           
"It
is a pity," Welles said. "Perhaps you could go idolize those young
bucks in the corner," he suggested. "They appear to still need women
to follow the drum."

           
The
girls looked to where Welles was pointing. "Oh, dear. Yes, please excuse
us!" the tall one said, and they both scurried off.

           
"That
was bizarre," Milford said. "Welles, they didn't even declare their
undying love for you."

           
"Shove
off," Welles said.

           
"Well,
I for one am thankful that I do not have to watch either of you follow a chit
around like a lovesick puppy," Ben said.

           
"Yes,
because you would never be caught dead following a woman around, from ball to
ball... to garden party..." Milford said mockingly.

           
"That's
different, and you know it," Ben said, but before Milford could interrupt,
added. "By the way, you are both coming over to my mother's house for
dinner tomorrow."

           
"We
are?" Welles asked.

           
"Welles,
you didn't tell me that was scheduled for tomorrow night. And I had planned an
assignation, too!" Milford said.

           
"I'm
not your bloody secretary," Welles growled, but added, "besides,
Kendal just told us."

           
"Will
there be any lovely young ladies for us there?" Milford asked.

           
"And
what's this about an assignation? You've been avoiding women like the
plague," Welles added.

           
Ben
shrugged. "I don't believe so. Just Bee and her cousin."

           
"So,
just her cousin, then," Milford said.

           
"I
would bloody well know if you had an assignation planned," Welles grumbled
under his breath, swallowing the rest of his champagne before exchanging
glasses with a nearby waiter.

           
"What's
wrong with Bee?" Ben asked.

           
"Kendal,
you've made it quite clear we're not to go near your young lady," Milford
reminded him.

           
"She's
not
my
young lady," Ben frowned.

           
"So
are we allowed to pay our attentions to the cousin or not?" Milford asked.

           
"Why
you would want to pay your attentions to any woman is beyond me," Ben said
testily.

           
"Is
the cousin horse-faced? Is that the issue? You're just trying to warn us off
now?" Milford asked.

           
"I've
never met her," Ben admonished. "But I'm sure she's lovely and far
too good for you."

           
"What's
the problem, Kendal?" Welles asked.

           
"Nothing,"
Ben sighed. "These past two days have just been... difficult.
 
With Surrey, and Bee, and then my mother...
and these parties. Everyone is always asking about who I have an interest in,
and trying to read into every little thing... why won't women just let men be
men?"

           
"Hear,
hear!" Milford said, raising his glass up. "Men deserve to be men!
Much better than treating us like ladies."

           
"Sod
off," Ben told him.

           
"Don't
you want to get married?" Welles asked.

           
Ben
shrugged. "Eventually, I guess. I never thought about it. It wasn't an
issue until I came into the title. But I will not be rushed into it, and I will
not be led around by the nose by some overbearing female, saying 'yes, dear,'
or 'no, dear,' or 'whatever you say dear.' Pathetic," Ben frowned.

           
"Oh,
ho, I detect a challenge," Milford said.

           
"You
do not," Ben replied matter-of-factly.

           
Milford
ignored him. "I will bet Welles here, oh, 20 pounds that you will not only
say one of those, 'yes, dears' or 'no, dears,' but that you will find yourself engaged
to one of these... what did you say? One of these
overbearing females
by the end of the month."

           
Ben
laughed. "You have a desire to lose your money, then? Why don't you make
the bet with me?"

           
"Because
then you would have a personal interest in the bet. I wouldn't want you to
sabotage your one chance at happiness."

           
Ben
scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Lose your money to whomever you wish,
then."

           
"You
still owe me 10 pounds from last week," Welles reminded him. "Am I
supposed to cover this as well?"

           
"Are
you saying you don't want to wager?" Milford asked with narrowed eyes.

           
"No,
no I think I'll win," Welles said. "I just think you'll owe me 30
pounds by the end of the month instead."

           
"So
it's a bet, then?"

           
Welles
shrugged and the two shook hands. "By the end of the month," Milford
smiled.

           
"You're
an idiot," Ben told Milford, then turned around and scanned the crowd.
"Now, help me find Bee. She's here somewhere."

           
"I
don't see her. Welles, do you?" Milford asked.

           
"There
are so many people here I wouldn't know where to begin," Welles replied.

           
"There!
There she is," Ben said. "She's dancing the cotillion right now.
Should be safe until the end of the dance, then."
 
Bee was dressed in a lovely green dress with
small leaves wrapped around the bodice paired with a mask covered with small
green feathers.
 
She was laughing at
something her partner was saying, and Ben had to force himself to unclench his
teeth.

           
Milford
stared at him. "Amazing," he said.

           
"What?"
Ben asked.

           
"Point
her out to us," Welles said, standing on the other side of him. Ben nodded
in her direction. "She's dancing with Beaufort right now."

           
"Beaufort?"
Welles scoffed. "That old goat? I'm surprised he can still walk much less
dance."

           
"He
offered for Bee," Ben said absently.

           
"Why,
he's old enough to be her grandfather!" Welles said. "I'm
open-minded, but that's going a bit too far."

           
Ben
opened his mouth to reply when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

           
Lennox
was standing behind them, scanning the crowd. "Kendal! Oh, and Milford and
Welles, too. Have you perhaps seen my cousin?" he asked. "They came
on ahead of me, and my aunt suggested that you might know where she was."

            
She
is in the emerald green dress with the bodice cut much too low. Does she want
every man this side of the Thames staring down her chest? 
“Alas, it is
a masked ball for a reason,” Ben said instead, turning around to face Bee's
cousin. He wasn’t sure why he lied to Lennox, but somehow he felt the man was
infringing upon his territory, as if insinuating that Ben was not up to the
task of watching over her.

            “I
seem to have found you gentlemen easily enough,” Lennox frowned.

            “That
is because we wished for it, you know,” Milford spoke up. “Masked balls are
really less for men, and more for the ladies.  It would not do if
they could not find the man with which they wanted to form a dalliance.”

            Lennox
turned red and sputtered, “You… do not… suggest… my cousin… or my... sister....”

           
“Enough,
Milford. You’re going to give him apoplexy,” Ben said quickly.   “Honestly,
Lennox, Lady Beatrice almost always wears green to these
affairs.  From my count, there are..." he glanced around the
ballroom as if he hadn't been keeping a keen eye on things already, "a...
half-dozen young ladies wearing green on the dance floor, and another, oh,
three or four skirting the edges. That might be a good place to start.”

            Lennox
stared hard at Milford before mumbling a goodbye, and, turning on his heel, set
out towards the nearest green dress. Ben sighed and brought the champagne
to his lips. God, he hated this bubbly stuff almost as much as Milford. He
looked around for a servant to request a brandy, but there were too many
spinning skirts and dominoes to make out much of anything. He sighed and downed
the liquid.