Much Ado about the Shrew (21 page)

           
Ben crossed the large lawn behind
Dorset's house, easily spotting Bee where the servant had told him she would be,
standing next to the cliff, staring out over the edge.
 
He rushed across the green expanse, slowing
down when he neared her so as not to surprise her.

           
"Bee?" he called out
tentatively, but Bee did not respond. "Beatrice?" he said, nearing
her and trying to catch her gaze by moving closer to her line of sight.
 
The backdrop of waves crashing below meant
that he knew she probably could not hear him, and he did not want to frighten
her and cause to her to slip.
 
His heart
contracted as he neared, wondering if she was contemplating jumping.
 
No, no he reasoned.
 
The Bee he knew would never contemplate
suicide.
 
She was standing close to the
edge of the cliff, but perhaps, Ben told himself, she just happened to wander
up there. Yes, she just happened to wander out across the lawn and walk to the
very edge of the cliff just as a storm came up.
 
Ben gave a slight shiver through his jacket as a strong breeze raced by,
and realized that Bee did not have a wrap.
 
She must be freezing, he thought. Why on earth would she be out here in
the cold?
 
Perhaps the storm happened to
come up and Bee was watching it come in?
 
For the love of God, why was she so close to
the edge?
Just one large step and... he pushed the thought from his mind,
and continued to draw closer.

           
"Bee, love, look at me,"
he said loudly, battling with the sound of the ocean.
 
A storm was definitely brewing, and the grey
clouds hung low, bringing with them an icy wind. Bee did not show that she had
heard Ben, but stood at the edge of the cliff, staring out at the endless
ocean.

           
"You must be cold," Ben
tried again. "Come, let's go back to the house." He held out his
hand, and walked up to where a small outcropping of rocks jutted out, right
below the narrow ledge that Bee was standing. They were not difficult to
navigate, but the wind and the crashing ocean waves below twisted his stomach.

           
"Please, Bee!" he all but
yelled, "Come down this instant!" He did not know when his voice had
raised, but her calmly standing on the ledge, just a few feet from death, while
he balanced, precarious on the rocks, made his stomach clench with fear.
 
He wanted to jump up and grab her in his
arms, hold her and keep her safe, but he was afraid of her reaction.
 
Would she walk over the edge just to spite
him?
 

           
Bee looked up, at him, no
through him
, and turned, walking down a
narrow path Ben had not noticed before, that skirted around the rocks on which
he was so carefully balanced. Breathing a sigh of relief, he scrambled down to
the lawn just below where he had been standing.
 
He intercepted her and grabbed her hand. "Bee," he started to
say, but he was out of breath. He squeezed her palm gently, but she did not
look at him, nor did she return the sentiment. Instead, she just said,
"Lord Kendal, how nice of you to come out."

           
Ben panted, taking in deep breaths
as the sprint across the lawn, compounded with holding his breath as he had
approached her had left him quite bereft of oxygen.
 
What the hell was she about, anyway?
 
Didn't she realize that she had been only a
few feet from death?
 
Ben glanced at the
ledge again. Even where she had been standing did not look altogether safe.
 
"Bee," he said again, looking at
her, then out at the ocean and the dangerous ledge, then back at her.

           
Bee shook her head. "I am
afraid, Lord Kendal, that even I do not have the courage for that at the
moment. But do not fear, I am engaged to Lord Surrey.
 
I believe that with the stories I have heard
about him, that after a fortnight of marriage, I should walk calmly over with
nary a pause."
 

           
If she had spoken the words in her
usual flippant tone, Ben would have breathed a sigh of relief.
 
Instead, the words were flat, honest, and
devoid of emotion, leaving a hollow pit in Ben's stomach. Ben swallowed hard
and drew up Bee's other hand. "Bee," he said, "look at me."

           
"Of course, my lord," she
said, and her face tilted up to his.
 
Her
eyes were the palest green, almost colorless.
 
They did not focus on him, her gaze distant even though she was looking
straight at him.
 
"We should be
getting back, I believe," she said, and drew her hands from his, walking
back towards the house.
 
Ben had little
choice but to follow her dumbly.

           
He grabbed her again, however,
before they entered. "Bee, you don't have to do this," he said.

           
Bee drew a breath, but did not look
at him. "Do what, my lord?"

           
"Don't marry Surrey," he
told her.

           
"It is too late, Lord
Kendal," she said softly, in a matter-of-fact tone. "The deal is
done. Now you no longer have to worry about following me from ballroom to
ballroom." Ben felt his heart sink to his stomach, remembering his words
from last night. "Bee," he tried to explain, but she continued, taking
another breath, and added, "and you receive the land you have been wanting
for the better part of your life.
 
It is
a good deal all around, is it not?"

           
Ben had no idea how she had found
out about Dorset's offer. "Bee," he said, gripping her hands tightly,
"let me explain."

           
She looked up and
through
him with those lifeless pale green eyes. "I
must return to the house," was all she said.

           
"This is insane," Ben
growled at her.
 
"Surrey is a lying,
cheating...
murderous
bastard."

           
"That is true, but that has not
stopped such men from marrying before."

           
"Bee, you don't have to go
through with this. You don't have to agree to this idiocy."

           
"I did not make the
arrangement," Bee said.

           
"You don't have to go along
with it," Ben argued.

           
"And who, or
what
am I, anyway?" Bee continued
in her soft voice.
 
She lifted her head
and looked out at the area from where they had just returned, but Ben could
swear that her eyes were not focused on anything. She gave a slight shrug. "I
am merely
chattle
to sell or give away."
 
Ben winced at the words being tossed back at
him- he could have handled the blow if she had only glared at him with that
spark in her eyes, but instead she spoke resolutely, as if she had only now
finally come to the conclusion that she was putting into words.
 

           
"I have tried to escape my fate
on so many occasions, but alas, I was never successful.
 
There comes a point in which one must learn
that the battle is lost."

           
She said this in the same monotone voice
as on the cliff; there was no feeling in her words, merely an acceptance of defeat.
 
And Ben found that he did not have words for
her. He opened his mouth to say something,
anything
,
that would give him back his fighting minx.

           
But Bee pulled her hands from his
and drew them around her own body.
 
"I find I am cold, Lord Kendal.
 
It has been pleasant to see you, but I think you do not need to come
again. I am sure my uncle will settle the paperwork with you directly."
 
She turned and opened one of the French doors
into the library.

           
Ben grabbed her arm, and she
stopped, but did not look up.
 
"I
must ask you to kindly release me," she said softly. Then, "You no
longer have to worry about your promise to my brother. I'm sure that he would
never have wished to negatively impose upon you."

           
"Bee, don't do this," Ben
implored.

           
Bee sighed. "We seem to
constantly be at odds, do we not?
 
I find,
my lord, that I am too tired to fight anymore. There is no purpose in
it."
 
And Ben felt his grip loosen,
and watched her slip into the dark house.

           
He knew that had not won anything,
but felt somehow that he had just lost everything.

           
Ben slipped into the house a few
moments later, only to see Bee's back as she moved into the foyer.
 
He rushed through the library, but was
stopped when Bee's uncle came out and greeted him from the hallway.

           
"Kendal, my boy, I didn't know
you had come!" Dorset's voice was a little too loud, and Ben could tell he
had been imbibing of his brandy earlier than usual.
 
He tried not to wince when Dorset's pudgy
hand gripped his shoulder, pressing him back into the library.
 
Ben looked at Dorset's red face, and then to
Bee's back as she slowly made her way out of sight.
 
He sighed resolutely; he could not chase
after her right that moment, although he swore he would find a way to talk to
her again.
 
He would not let her marry Surrey,
he swore to himself; he would
not.

           
"I have to give you credit
m'boy
," Dorset said from the far side of the library,
"I didn't think you could do it."

           
Ben looked up and noticed that
Dorset had made a beeline for his desk and was pouring himself a brandy.
 
He frowned and instead walked next to the
fire, welcoming its warmth.
 
It was too
small for the size of the room, Ben realized; there should either have been a
mate at the far side of the room to help heat the area adequately. It seemed
almost a futile effort, he mused, a small fire trying to warm such a large
area, and no matter how large a fire one could build in the small area, it was
doomed to fail. Ben looked over to the large desk where Dorset now sat and had
no doubt that the far side of the room was chilled. Eventually the fire would
burn itself out, and Ben wondered if Dorset would even notice.
 
It seemed a fitting analogy for Bee, he
thought, a fire burning as brightly as possible, trying to warm such an empty
house, and such a frigid heart.
 
He felt
another stab of guilt as he realized he was directly responsible for killing
Bee's fire, her spirit that had always attracted him to her.

           
Attracted
him?
Ben sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did he bother to
pretend anymore? The woman was gorgeous, she was intelligent, and if their kisses
were any indication to her passion, there would be no question that he would spend
as much time with her in the bedroom as out.
 
What the devil had he been thinking all these
years that he had loved her, ignoring her and finally letting her get away?

           
Loved her. Yes, damn it all, Ben
thought, he loved the little hellion. He loved the way her eyes sparked when
she was angry, or when she had won an argument.
 
He loved the way her hair could never quite stay up in its chiffon, no
matter how many pins her maid tried to shove in her head.
 
He sighed.
 
He could keep going on, but it mattered little at this point if she was
indeed engaged to Surrey.
 
Ben's mind
raced, trying to come up with a way around this mess he had created for Bee,
and inadvertently, himself.
 

           
"I suppose you are waiting for
me to give you my eternal thanks, eh?" Dorset said from behind Ben. Ben
looked up, slightly dazed; he had forgotten where he was, immersed in his own
thoughts.
 
"What? Oh, no, that's
unnecessary, I'm sure," Ben replied, trying to keep his voice low and
cool. "So you've got the chit engaged already, I hear?"

           
Dorset laughed, his red bulging
cheeks bouncing, his eyes too bright from the drink. Good God, was Bee really
related to this disgusting prig of a man? Ben swallowed, and forced his face to
remain impassive. It would not do now to give his hand away, lest he provoke
Dorset into spooking.
 
Lord knew, Bee had
given him ample reasons in the past to be wary.

           
"Yes, yes, Surrey has stepped
up," Dorset said, swallowing the last of his brandy.
 
He set the glass on the table, and focused on
pouring himself another.
 
Ben forced himself
from turning in disgust as Dorset concentrated on pouring the liquid, sloshing
the brandy both into the cup and managing to spill a great deal across the desk
as well.
 
He did not seem to notice,
however, and with a gleam, picked up the glass. "To shrews!" he said,
and without waiting for Ben to reply to his toast, nor noticing that he had
never even bothered Ben a glass, took a large gulp.
 

           
"Yes, indeed," Ben said,
trying to keep from frowning.
 
"Why,
my Lord, my I ask, does Surrey wish to tie himself to your niece?"

           
Dorset burped and sat back into his
chair, sighing.
 
"It's all your
doing, you know, ol' chap. He wouldn't have touched her otherwise. No one
would, you know. Horrible chit of a girl, she was.
 
Always arguing. But," he stopped, and
tried to sit up, failed, fell back, and scooted himself forward, "he said
that it was because of you he would take her." Dorset tried heaving
himself forward and back, continuing to try to sit up, then finally gave up,
and focused merely on staying upright in the chair.
 
"Good thing, too, I daresay,"
Dorsey sighed. "Got myself in a bit of a pickle, you know, at the
tables.
 
You know how it is. Money's tied
up in investments and all. Dowry's the only thing to liquidate."

           
Ben listened to Dorset and did his
best not to either hit him or wince. He felt as if there was a knife in his
chest, and Dorset was twisting it deeper and deeper the more he spoke. When
Dorset told him that it was because of him that Surrey was proposing to Bee, it
was all he could do not to stand up, declare the both of them a bastard, and
run out and apologize to Bee. But that would not do; he had a bigger game to
play now, and it would require more finesse.
 
But it made sense now; at least Ben now knew Dorset's game.

           
"But Lord Surrey... certainly
you know of his, well...
reputation
with
the ladies?"

           
"Of course
m'boy
.
I helped him create it!" Dorset smiled and held up the glass in his hand
as if to toast, splashing some of the liquid on his hand and sleeve. He didn't
seem to notice, but drank what was left in the glass and set it down on the desk
with a soft thud.
 

           
"Really?" Ben asked.
"I didn't realize you knew Surrey."

           
Dorset gave a low chuckle. "Oh,
yes, we were thick as thieves before the war. In fact, Surrey was the one who
helped me get rid of..." he paused, blinking and swaying a bit, as if he
wasn't sure of what he was saying. "Did me a favor, you know? Have to find
some way to pay that debt off," he murmured under his breath. Dorset
drifted off, and Ben wondered if he was going to pass out.
 
If he hit him while he was passed out, would
it still count? Ben open and closed his hand.
 
Besides hitting Surrey in the ballroom, he had never been prone to
violence off of the battlefield, although for the life of him he wanted nothing
more than to beat this bloody bastard who called himself an uncle.

           
"Well, I imagine all of the
papers are drawn up, then?" Ben said, standing, for he knew that if he
stayed he would end up somewhere between punching Dorset and killing him, and
he could not trust that he would not go through with the latter.

           
"
Hrm
?"
Dorset burped again and jerked himself awake. "Oh, yes, yes. The land.
Always wanted that, eh? I was going to sell it to you, anyway, you know.
 
But owed Surrey a favor, you know, and he
always fancied the girl. Figured it would kill two birds with one stone."

           
Or
kill Bee
, Ben thought.
 
Dorset
reached out, still slouched in his chair, and ruffled through some papers that
were on the desk, pulling out a small sheaf and handed them to Ben. Ben took
them, noticing that they were slightly wet where the brandy had spilled on the
edges. "Thank you," he said through clenched teeth. Dorset waved him
off and closed his eyes again, and Ben considered himself excused. For himself,
he decided that not caring about anything but a strip of land was the best
acting he had done in his life.

           
"Good bye, my lord," Ben
said under his breath as he turned back toward, but he was fairly certain that
Dorset had just passed out in his chair.
 
He strode out resolutely as he pocketed the papers Dorset had given him;
he may need them for leverage at another time.
 
He peered into the foyer and glanced into a side parlor, looking for
Bee, before he was pulled back and shoved up against a wall.

           
"Do ye believe me now, you
bloody bastard?"

           
Ben groaned as the air was pressed
out of his lungs.
 
He had not been ready
for Lennox this time, either, but he would be damned if the man would interrupt
him now that he was on a mission.

           
"Lord Oak, I was just looking
for you."
 
Perhaps flippant wasn't
the best way to go, Ben thought in hindsight as Lennox shoved him back against
the wall again.
 
What on earth did
Lennox's mother feed him to make him so large, anyway?
 
Seriously, the man's arms were small logs.

           
"Don't play with me. Did ye see
what you've done? Did you see how you've broken her?"

           
Ben looked up at Lennox's face,
which was red with rage, and tried for contrite.
 
"If you could... kindly set me down,
perhaps we can discuss what can be done?"
 

           
"Yes, Lord Lennox, it would be
unfortunate to kill the man before you can determine if he can help get Lady
Beatrice out of this situation," Milford said in a bored tone behind him.

           
Lennox loosened his hold on Ben's
jacket, and Ben slid to the ground, but was still pressed against the wall. Not
out of the proverbial woods just yet, he told himself. Or at least from behind
the tree, he amended to himself.

           
"
You
aren't going to do anything about this situation. You've done
enough," Lennox growled.

           
Ben shrugged his jacket back into
place and pulled the sleeves down.
 
"It appears not."

           
"I'm telling you, ye’re gun to
stay away from '
er
!" Lennox roared, his brogue
thickening as his anger grew.

           
A squeak from behind them and a
large crashing noise revealed a young maid who was scurrying past them.
 
Frightened, she had dropped the books she had
been carrying, and Ben saw his chance.

           
"Allow me," he told the
maid, sneaking by Lennox, who was staring dumbfounded at the mess the maid had
created.

           
"Oh, no, sir, please, I was
just, well... I was just surprised. I'll clean it up, I will. It's just some
books."

           
But Ben had already bent down and
retrieved a few of the titles. He scanned through them. Radcliff, Shakespeare,
Byron... a small smile hinted at his lips.

           
"Why are you smiling, you
bastard?" Lennox growled.

           
The maid squeaked again at Lennox's
outburst. "My apologies for Lord Lennox here," Ben murmured to her,
while Lennox barked, "I... what are you doing with these books,
anyway?"

           
The maid looked from Lennox to Ben
to Milford and back again, not sure of whether she should speak or run from the
room. Ben gave his best reassuring smile and took the maid's hand, placing the
few books he had picked up in her hands. "Yes, young miss," he said
to the maid, holding her hand a moment longer before releasing her, "can
you tell us where these books are heading?" When the maid continued to
stare at him, he spoke again. "The library, perhaps?"
       

           
The maid shook her head. "Oh,
no, sir, Lady Beatrice said specifically these should no longer be in the
house. She said that they were naught but trash, but then changed her mind and
said that they should be donated to the lady's orphanage. I'm just takin' them
to the housekeeper, so she can see to have them delivered."

           
Ben smiled again. "Do you mind
if I look through a few of them first?"

           
"Oh, no, I mean, I don't think,
I mean..." the maid looked at him, flustered. "Of course,
m'lord
, you do what you wish."