Much Ado about the Shrew (23 page)

           
"If it came down to it, who
would you have chosen, me or Welles?" Ben blurted out. He hated himself
the moment the question came out of his mouth; there was no good way to reply,
and he knew the answer, anyway.

           
Milford, however, cocked an eyebrow
at him. "Neither," he said. "For I was prepared to shoot you
both myself."

           
Ben smiled. "The only right
answer."

           
Milford gave a small tilt of his
head. "Indeed," he said, and took another sip of his brandy.

           
"My lord?" a short, eager
young man in his mid-twenties came into the study. "Simmons said you
wished to see me?"

           
"Chambers, excellent," Ben
said. "I need you to take this," he picked up the newly sanded note
he had been writing, "and this," he opened a drawer and pulled out a
pile of bank notes, "and go buy up as many of Dorset's markers as you
can."

           
"My lord?" Chambers asked,
awkwardly taking the paper and the notes.

           
"I've written down a list of
the more frequented gambling
hells
," Ben said
absently. "Take a footman with you."

           
"Of course, my lord,"
Chambers said, with a short, deferential bow.

           
"Check back in with me when
you've bought as much as that will buy," Ben told him.

           
"Yes, my lord," Chambers
said, still obviously confused, and walked out of the study.

           
"My new valet," Ben told
Milford, knowing the question was coming.

           
"Does he know any words
besides, 'my lord'?" Milford asked.

           
"To be honest, I don't
know," Ben said, thinking. He shrugged. "Probably."

           
"And his name is
Chambers?" Milford added, swallowing the last of his brandy and setting
the glass on Ben's desk.

           
"Yes."
 

           
"So you will find Chambers in
your chambers?" Milford asked.

           
"Yes, I suppose... oh,"
Ben said. "The poor man."

           
"Could be worse. Could have to
go through life with the surname Milford," Milford said.

           
Ben laughed. "It appears you've
finished your drink, so off with you. Go find Lennox and Welles.

           
"Ah, life used to be so
easy," Milford lamented as he retreated from the study. "Get up,
don't get killed, shoot at some frogs, don't get killed some more, drink, go to
bed."

           
"Are you still here,
Milford?" Ben said loudly from his desk.

           
"Just leaving," Milford
called over his shoulder, although Ben was pretty certain he heard the words
"ungrateful" and "bastard" as well.

           
Ben decided he should probably send
notes around to all of his friends, just in case Milford was unsuccessful in
making any himself.

           
Ben readjusted the mask he had donned
and shifted in the saddle.
 
He and Lennox
had been waiting on this particular bend of road for what seemed like forever,
and still Bee's carriage had not passed. He wondered if perhaps his information
was incorrect; perhaps Bee had changed her mind about coming back to visit her
aunt, or perhaps she decided to leave at a different time. He fidgeted until
Balthasar
tossed his head in frustration, and took a
calming breath. "Sorry,
Balthasar
," he
said, stroking the gelding's neck.

           
"Do you think she's still coming,
then?" Lennox asked, peering around the corner. He was mounted on a
massive black horse of questionable heritage, although he looked fleet of foot
enough for the task at hand.
 

           
"I dearly hope so," Ben
muttered. "Otherwise this is a bloody waste of time."
 

           
"She is supposed to be coming
this way," Lennox said, answering his own question. "Her maid said
she would be heading back to my aunt's house this afternoon. I chose this bend
in the road as it is the only area that will work for your plan as it isn't
heavily trafficked."

           
"Yes, it's perfect," Ben
grumbled, "as long as she comes."

           
"She'll come," Lennox
said. "Her maid was certain she would come today." He paused and
looked down. "Or was it tomorrow?"

           
"Dear God, Lennox!" Ben
exclaimed. "We're sitting out here dressed like bloody highwaymen! If
anyone sees us we're likely to be shot!"

           
"I told Bee's coachmen to
expect us," Lennox said defensively.

           
"As long as it's her goddamn
coach that comes by! We've been sitting along the road for two bloody hours and
now you're not sure if she's going to come today or tomorrow?"

           
"Hush!" Lennox said,
holding up his hand.

           
"I will not hush!" Ben
said loudly. "This is ridiculous- I knew it was a stupid plan when I came
up with it."

           
"No, hush!" Lennox
repeated, waving his hand to quiet Ben. "A coach is coming!"

           
Ben peered through the poorly cut
holes in his mask. How did highwaymen do this, anyway? Most often they robbed
coaches at night, not in broad daylight, and usually the coaches were not
prearranged to be stolen. It was a good thing he was an Earl, Ben decided, as
he would have made a poor highwayman.

           
He chuckled to himself. This was the
first time since his father and brother had died that he
 
was actually glad he was Earl, although in
this case it was opposed to pursuing a life of crime. He would have to remember
to tell Milford and Welles when he saw them next; they would find the humor in
the situation.

           
If Welles was still talking to him,
that was. Bother it all, he just wanted things back to how they were a week
ago.

           
"It's her!" Lennox said.
"It's her coach!"
           
Oh, good, her brand-new bloody
coach. He was looking forward to riding in the paragon of all coaches.

           
"Are you ready?" Lennox

           
"I suppose," Ben said
dryly, adjusting his mask again.

           
"This is your insane idea, just
remember," Lennox said, sitting forward in his saddle as the sound of hoof
beats grew louder.

           
"I know," Ben frowned. Was
this too insane, after all? What if Bee did not appreciate the spirit behind
the masquerade? The noise of the horses escalated; the coach was almost upon
them now.

           
His thoughts were interrupted by
Lennox pushing his horse past
Balthasar
, throwing Ben
off balance. He spun his horse around just as the coach flew around the corner
and Lennox spurred his own horse on towards the moving vehicle.
 
Swearing under his breath, he directed
Balthasar
to follow.

           
As he trailed behind Lennox, Ben
realized that he had no idea how to stop a moving carriage. Did they shoot a
pistol into the air? Grab the lead horse's reins?
 
He thought back to the novel he had read that
had inspired this idea; the highwayman had kidnapped the heroine from her
coach, and they had fallen madly in love.
 
The entire capture of the coach and the kidnapping was all sort of
vaguely written, Ben realized retrospectively.
 
In fact, the majority of the novel had been focused more on the
heroine's eventual desire for the highwayman, the miller's son, who had
secretly been in love with her for years.
 

           
Whatever
was I thinking? This is the stupidest idea I've ever had.

           
Lennox, however, seemed to
understand as to how the entire highwayman approach was to ensue, as he yelled
"Stand and deliver!" while edging up to the lead horses and grabbing
their reins. Ben directed
Balthasar
to the other side
and proceeded to do the same.

           
Immediately, the coachmen began to
slow the conveyance down, although Ben wasn't sure if the fact that they knew
Lennox was behind the mask was the reason, or if that was really the way to
overtake a carriage. He made a note to ask someone at his club the next time he
was in.

           
"Stand and deliver!"
Lennox yelled again as the horses came to a halt, breathing heavily. The
coachman up top murmured something to the footmen, who immediately jumped to
the side of the vehicle.

           
Ben looked stupidly on as Lennox
directed the footmen away from the coach with a wave of his pistol. They would
hitch a ride back to London proper on Ben's coach, which was parked only a
short distance away.

           
"Well?" Lennox said,
looking at Ben.

           
"Well, what?" Ben asked.
"Well done, I suppose."

           
Lennox frowned and motioned to the
coach with a wave of his hand. "Go get her," he commanded in a low
voice.

           
"What? Oh," Ben said, and
hopped off of
Balthasar
, his reins in one hand as he
walked up to the coach's door.
 
He pulled
his empty pistol out of his waistband, and realized belatedly that Bee might
not know him immediately.
 
He wondered if
Bee carried her own loaded pistol in one of those many nooks in that carriage
of hers.

           
"Come out nice-like or we'll
shoot
yer
coachman!" Ben yelled in his best
imitation of the coves around London.
 
The coachman, who was still sitting on the top of the coach gave Ben a
disdainful look. Ben shrugged back. It wasn't as if he was
really
going to shoot the man, after all.

           
When no movement came from inside of
the coach, Ben called again. "We know
yer
in
there, missy. You and your maid of
yers
. Come out now
or
ye'll
have a man's life on
yer
hands!"
 
Ben looked over at Lennox,
who just shrugged a shoulder at him. Ben frowned and was about to yank the door
open when Betsy, Bee's maid, came out.

           
"Oh, dear, oh
deary
me!" she cried, running out as the door slammed
shut behind her. "Whatever will become of us? Oh, my lady, they'll shoot
us for certain!"

           
Ben rolled his eyes at the maid, who
had stopped only a few feet from the coach before smoothing her skirts. Ben
gave a short shake of his head; this was altogether too difficult even when
everyone was in on the plan.
 
He yanked
the door open and stood to the side, lest Bee decide to blow his head to
smithereens. Bee was sitting on the far side of the coach, however, taking off
her earbobs.
 

           
"I said, out of the
coach!" Ben growled.

           
"You'll just want the jewels,
I'm assuming," Bee said in a bored tone. She placed them in her reticule
and held it out towards Ben. "I told Becky not to run out stupidly, but of
course she didn't listen. Here are my money and jewels. Just go along now like
a good thief and we'll be on our way."

           
Ben almost barked a laugh at Bee's
tone. Apparently being robbed was not high on her list of particular fears.
Leaning back, he tossed
Balthasar's
reins to a nearby
footman, and climbed into the coach and slammed the door, tapping the roof
twice before sitting down opposite Bee.

           
"Whatever are you doing, you,
you... heathen!" Bee cried as the coach began to move forward.

           
"Ah, not so prissy now are
ye?" Ben smiled.

           
"What do you want?" Bee
asked as her eyes narrowed, although Ben could see a bit of fear in them. They
were a darker green than when he had seen her yesterday at her uncle's house,
which he assumed was a good sign.
 
The
pale green of her eyes made her look lifeless.

           
"What do you think?" Ben
asked in his best villainous voice.

           
"If you think to attack me...
in my carriage," Bee didn't finish her thought, but had scooted all the way
against the squabs and was now as far into the corner as she could.

           
"Why, that's an excellent
idea," Ben said, dropping the accent and moving towards her. Instead of
kissing her senseless, however, Ben found himself at the end of Bee's tiny
fist, which walloped him quite soundly against his jaw, just above where Lennox
had hit him a few days before. She followed that up with several other punches
and began kicking him as well.

           
"
Ow
!
Ow
!" Ben yelled. "Stop! Stop, I say! Bee, stop,
it's me!" Flattened by a woman. Dear God, he was glad Milford was not here
to see this.

           
Bee kicked him one more time for
good measure before reaching over and pulling the mask off of his head. "What
in the- Ben? What is going on? What is the meaning of this?"

           
"Well," Ben began
sheepishly, looking over at Bee as he settled into the seat. "Um,
well..." he trailed off as he stared at Bee who was staring angrily at
him.

           
"Tell me, Ben," she
ordered. "Tell me exactly what you're doing here."

           
"Um," Ben said with a
reluctant smile. "Rescuing you?"