Much Ado about the Shrew (14 page)

           
“Always
wears green...” he heard Welles say.

            “What?”
Ben asked distractedly, wondering now where he could put the empty champagne
flute.
 
Where were all the blasted
servants?

            “I
said,” Welles repeated, “that was dastardly to deceive the man like that.”

            “Lord
Oak?” Ben scoffed.

            “Lord
Oak?” Milford laughed. “I thought his name was Lennox.”

            Ben
smiled. “That’s just what I call him in my head after Welles’ comment the other
night. But,” he paused, noticing a passing servant with a tray of champagne. He
switched the empty flute for a full one; if brandy could not be had, then
champagne would have to do. “I did not lie. At any ball or country dance I've
been to with Bee, I've only ever seen her in green.”

            “Really?”
Milford’s eyebrows raised, and Welles tilted his head in interest.

            “What?”
Ben shrugged, taking another sip.  “She must really like green."

            “Hmm...”
Welles said.

            “Yes,”
Milford affirmed.

            “Did
you ever noticed Lady Beatrice’s dress color, my Lord?” Welles asked Milford.

            “Why
now that I think about it… no, I have never noticed the color of any chit’s
dress. I spend most of my time imagining the dears without them.”

            “Well,
that hardly counts then, now does it?” Ben said, distracted. Bee had wandered
off the dance floor and she was no longer in her sights. Dammit, maybe he
should have told Lennox where she was and had 
him
 play
chaperone all night.

            “I
propose a game,” Milford said.

            “A
game, here?” Welles asked, looking around and the milling people, musicians,
and dancers. “Not enough entertainment for you?”

            “A
little word play is all,” Milford suggested. “For example, perhaps, Welles, you
could tell me something about yourself… maybe that no one else might know?”

            “Um…”
Welles looked at Milford quizzically, then back at Ben.  “I
er
… guess,” Welles said. Ben sighed, knowing that somehow
this “game” was going to be directed at him.

            “Excellent,”
Milford said. “Perhaps you could tell me something innocuous at first, such as,
oh, I don’t know, your favorite color.”

            Welles
smiled widely. “Stop,” Ben warned.

            “Blue,”
Welles said, his grin so large his teeth were showing. Ben took a gulp of the
champagne and tried to look over the tops of people’s heads. If he were Lord
Lennox, he could just throw people to the side to get a clear view.
 
He imagined individuals flying through the
air and smiled.
 
He could start with Milford.

            “Mine
is red,” Milford supplied.  “And Kendal,”

            “I
said to stop,” Ben growled, his smile immediately disappearing.

            “Well,
that seems uncharitable,” Milford said with a deadpan face. “After all, Welles
here and I both played.”

            “If
I recall,” Welles said quietly, “I believe his favorite color is green.”

            “Green?”
Milford said, pretending to be shocked. He even took a step back. The man
should be in the theatre, Ben thought. 

            “Why
so shocked, Milford?” Welles asked, the grin still plastered on his face.

            Ben
pretended not to hear the conversation going on next to him, but concentrated
on trying to see glimpses of green patches flitting through the ballroom.

            “Didn’t
Kendal say that Lady Beatrice wore green to these affairs?”

            “
Always
wore green, if I remember,”
Welles replied.

            “
Always
?
Well, now, that 
is
 telling.”

            “Cease
your prattling,” Ben warned.

            “English,
my dear man, is the cornerstone of modern society.”

            “If
you two are the paragons of modern society, then God help us all.”

            “God
help us all, why?” Ben heard a sweet voice coming from behind him and turned
quickly. Thank the Lord, it was Bee in that dress of hers. The green was bright
and vibrant, like her eyes from behind the mask. Hoping Bee hadn’t been privy
to their 
entire
conversation, Ben turned his relief into annoyance
and grumbled, “God help all us men from ladies who eavesdrop on others’
conversations.”

            “Oh,
please,” Beatrice said, rolling her eyes. “Certainly you men don’t plan on
having a private conversation amidst a few hundred people.”

            “A
pleasure, my mysterious lady,” Welles said, sketching a short bow.

            “What?
Oh, yes, my lord,” Beatrice laughed. “Likewise,” she added, and bobbed a small
curtsy. “I forget sometimes I’m wearing a mask.”

            “Really?”
Milford chimed in, and Ben groaned, waiting for the retort. This could not be
good for him.

            “Bee!
Bee!” a young girl came running towards them, and latched onto Beatrice’s arm.
“Oh, I thought I would never find you!” Ben almost verbally gave thanks at the
interruption.

            “Where
is Auntie, Julia?” Beatrice frowned.

            “Oh,
I don’t know!” Julia wailed. Beatrice rolled her eyes while the men raised
their eyebrows.

            “All
right, all right,” Beatrice hushed the young girl.  Her eyes were wet
with
unspilled
tears, and her white gown and white
mask on a stick in her hand indicated her youth. Ben wondered if she was old
enough to even be allowed to come to such an event.

           
"Not
horse-faced!" Milford whispered to Ben, who pointedly frowned at him.

            Beatrice
sighed and, waved her hand towards the three men. “Here, let me make you known
to Lord Kendal, Lord Milford and Lord Welles. They always travel in a pack, and
are quite insufferable.”

            “Inseparable,”
Milford supplied with a grin.

            “That,
too,” Bee smiled back.

            “Oh,
dear,” said the young girl beside her. “I thought the point was that we weren’t
supposed to know who anyone was.”

            “Only
if you’re planning an assignation, my dear,” Milford smiled, then gave an
oof
! sound as Ben elbowed him in the ribs.

            “Beatrice,
I believe these are the rakes my mother warned me about,” Julia said in a
small, frightened voice, drawing back from the group. 

            Beatrice
rolled her eyes and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Really, Julia, rakes or no, they
are probably the safest ones here.”

            “I
resemble that remark,” Welles said smoothly, taking Julia’s hand and bowing
slightly. “Lady Julia, I, for one, am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He
looked pointedly at Ben and Milford. “Now, my sweet, I believe I am the safest
even of these three to lead you out to the dance floor.  May I?” And
without reservation, tucked Julia’s hand into the crook of his elbow and walked
towards the music.  Julia took a couple of staggered steps, but with
Beatrice waving her off, she followed Welles away.

            “Smooth,”
Milford said, breaking the silence.

            “Thank
God,” Beatrice muttered, and when Ben raised an eyebrow defended herself. “You
have no idea what it’s like, having her to watch her every move to ensure she
doesn’t do something untoward.”

            “I
may have some idea,” Ben said.  Beatrice gave him a confused look.

            “Just
in from the country, then?” Milford asked, looking towards where the couple had
lined up for a dance.

            “La!
As if you couldn’t tell. She is Lennox’s youngest sister.  He was
supposed to meet us here. You haven’t seen him, have you?” she frowned and
looked around the room again.

            Ben
glanced around as well. Odd, it would seem difficult for such a large man to
get lost in the crowd. “No,” he said. “We haven’t seen him,” and tried to
ignore the glaring look from Milford.

            “Alas,”
Bee said, “I may have to stick with you for the moment, then. There are too
many people here, and our aunt is about as helpful a chaperone as Milford here
is at a debutante ball.”

            “As
Welles stated earlier, I resemble that remark,” Milford said in his stuffiest
voice.

            Beatrice
laughed, and Ben found himself relaxing as the three continued to banter back
and forth. The champagne must finally be kicking in, he told himself.

           
"Has
anyone said anything about last night?" Ben finally asked.

           
Bee's
smile beamed up at him and Ben felt his heart skip a beat. He caught his breath
and slowly released it. Maybe there had been something off with the
hors
-
d
'oeuvre
he had just eaten.

           
"Thanks to your mother, I have
been either congratulated or fawned over all evening. Although I believe I and
any of my future generations are permanently banned from Lady Putney's
ball." She sighed and gave a slight shrug, which Ben noticed pulled the
bodice a bit. He had to close his eyes in order to stop from staring.

           
"I say, Kendal, are you feeling
alright?" he heard Milford ask.

           
"What? Um, yes," Ben gave
a slight cough and opened his eyes, forcing himself not to stare at Bee's
chest. The current fashions were not amenable to hid the way his thoughts were
going, and he did not wish to cause an even greater scandal. "I, uh... I was
just thinking about last night. I suppose that except for you and Welles
needing to sell out, I suppose that we avoided another social disaster,"
Ben said, staring out at the dancers. The people talking along the wall. The
waiters. Anywhere but Bee's chest.

           
"What?" Bee asked.
"Lord Milford?"

           
"I'm afraid it's true,"
Milford sighed loudly. "But please do not bother yourself at all. Lord
Welles and I were hard-pressed to stop this lout from causing a scene
first."

           
"So now it's my fault?"
Ben asked with raised eyebrows.

           
"It is never the lady's fault,"
Milford said, staring evenly back at him.

           
Bee broke the tension between them
by reaching out and touching Milford's black coat with her gloved hand.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Lord Milford!" she exclaimed. "I remember now
you were discussing as much in the carriage, but I confess I was not myself at
that time. If my family can help you in any way, please let me know. Lennox
knows that we owe you a great debt."

           
Ben scowled. She owed Milford a
great debt? So where did that leave him? And why was she still touching
Milford?

           
Milford smiled back at Bee and gave
her hand a reassuring pat. "Never you mind,
sweetling
,"
he said. "I would stand up for you again in a heartbeat."

           
Ben clenched his jaw.
"Yes," he said through clenched teeth. "Milford was very
brave."

           
Milford's eyes twinkled and he
smirked at Ben. "Oh," he said with a wave of his free hand. "You
only say that because it's true."

           
Ben blinked once. Then twice.

           
"Oh, Lord Milford, you are so
witty!" Bee said, breaking the silence between the two.
 
She pulled her hand back and adjusted her
mask that had slipped a bit, and Ben found himself releasing a breath he hadn't
realized he had taken.

           
Dear
God, what the hell was wrong with him?
 

            Ben's
thoughts were interrupted when Welles and Julia returned after the first set,
Julia looking flushed. “My dear, you look positively radiant,” Milford bowed
when they returned. “I do apologize for not noticing earlier. Perhaps I can
assist you to the refreshment table?” He offered his arm and gave Welles a
pointed look.

            “I’ll…
er
, I’ll join you!” Welles said quickly. “Dancing
does work up a thirst!”  He took Julia’s other arm.

            “Perhaps
we should all go,” Bee said. 

            “No,
no,” Julia up smiled at Welles and Milford as she was led away. “We can bring
something back for you.
 
My favorite
color, my lord? Why, blue, I suppose. What's yours?"

           
Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes. "She looks as if she was just hit
upside the head,” Ben remarked as they watched the trio walk off.